Naked With Strangers
In a bid to escape the arctic chill and connect with my fellow Amsterdammers, I spent last weekend doing the Dutchest thing ever: breaking in my new clogs!
That’s not true (and it’s also probably quite offensive), but I needed a fancy way to introduce what I did do, which was to spend the veekend at a DUTCH SPA! For those of you who aren’t yet with me, get your mind out of Mani-Pedi Ville, and head on over to Doodles Galore, because that’s where this story takes place.
The decision to partake in such an experience came about rather abruptly — the weather was forecasted to be even crapper than usual, which only really leaves two options: hibernate at home (central heating) or go out drinking (organic heating). I was sick of couch’s unrelenting stance on sauces, and they serve wine at the spa (yes, I checked).
I set off in the morning with a phone full of freshly downloaded podcasts, hoping to emerge in the evening suppler and wiser. That turned out to be a complete waste of time as we discovered on arrival that phones aren’t allowed in the spa. Because duh, Perverts. Whilst disappointed about the wisdom loss, I was happy to hear that nobody would be face-swapping with my ass. We each received a “modesty robe” (a mere bathrobe in disguise) before being pointed in the direction of the MIXED changing room to shed our loincloths and begin the opening of our minds and pores.
Chapter 1: Entering
Wriggling out of 45 layers of thermals while trying to keep a towel wrapped around you is no easy feat, I’ll tell you that. Especially when everyone around you is prancing around nakedly, and eye contact feels like something that requires protection. Entering the spa in our modesty robes, however, was the real turning point. In every direction, hoards of people swanned about with errrthang a’dangle. I’d been told by a friend the week before that it’s not uncommon for Dutch colleagues to go to the spa together. Are ya gettin this?! Colleagues, assembling naked, presumably sober. Oh, Earth, ya big weirdo!
Chapter 2: Exposure
After a few robed laps of the premises, it was time for the great unveiling. The outdoor pool was chosen due to the fact that it was the least busy, but this unfortunately meant de-robing in -1 degrees temperatures. I slithered out of my robe and into the water like a serpent on fire. Once in, I allowed the liberation to wash over my bare body, and found that I did, indeed, feel rather alive. I even put my head under – a rare event. The issue, however, was in the getting out. I can now state with 100% certainty that anyone who thinks getting out of warm water in freezing temps is “invigorating” is a fierce, raging psychopath. Remove them from your life as swiftly as possible.
Chapter 3: Steamed
The steam room rules are very strict, and you’ll get a phlegmy warning if you disobey. Shut the door behind you, find a spot quickly, and do NOT speak. My glasses fogged up soon as I entered, transforming me instantly into everybody’s favourite cartoon dork. I sat down and did my best to ignore the rhythmic snorting coming from the corner of the room, which did not sound even remotely human. Breathing through the fog, I tried as hard as I could to JUST RELAX, which probably sounds counter-intuitive, but basically summarises my life. Within 30 seconds I was saturated with sweat, and within 4 minutes I was having the kind of epiphanies you get on the third day of a festival. I did not last much longer.
Chapter 4: Wine
After my brief but vicious steaming, I made a beeline to the one place I knew would soothe me: the relaxation lounge, known IRL as a bar. Pores gaping open, I found myself connecting with my glass of merlot on deep AF level, and trance-like, ordering another. There was an ‘advanced’ sauna session that was due to start shortly, which — THANKS WINEY — suddenly felt like a real YOLO opportunity. I finished my glass and tottered off, excited about my impending peak health.
Chapter 5: Death
A robed group had gathered outside the sauna, looking very tall and nonchalant as is the modus operandi here in the Netherlands. The host emerged from the mist and gave a very lengthy Dutch speech about something something lemongrass something something, and then suddenly everyone was de-robing and filing nakedly into a small sweaty wooden box. I went for the top corner, which is probably one of the stupidest things I’ve ever done in my life, but hey:
After the room was sufficiently crammed — corpus to corpus — the host closed the door, banged on a gong, and murmured more something-somethings. She then began throwing scented balls on the hot coals in a dramatic yet graceful fashion. Each time a ball hit the coals, the room would get hotter. DID I MENTION THAT THE STARTING TEMP WAS AROUND 80 DEGREES? By the time ball 3 hit the coals, I was rocking backwards and forwards in some sort of demonic bid to stay conscious. I desperately wanted to roll around in a barrel of ice or do absolutely anything that was not this, but escaping the fiery pits of hell would mean standing up naked in a packed room of 100 people, and clamouring down to the front while dripping sweat all over my zenny peers along the way. I’d also have to open the door to the sauna, which would let the cold air in and break the spell for everyone else.
Chapter 6: Nuggets/Redemption
My near death experience left me shaking in a way that only chicken can fix. Fortunately, the bar serves the most succulent nuggets you’ve ever tasted (I KNOW RIGHT, AT A HEALTH SPA), and it’s hard staying sad when you’re in the presence of fried things. I was soon feeling quite pleased with myself despite the trauma. I’d stood up in front of 100 naked people, naked! Excellent tombstone material.
The rest of the day was spent flitting between the 5 different hot tubs, which is super relaxing once you’re able to come to terms with the fact you’re in a big bubbling Pot o’ Dicks. As far as the nudity goes, you really do start to forget about it after a while. Until Grandpa Joe hoists himself out the hot tub and you’re abruptly confronted with his geriatric ballsack, that is.
