In June 2006 I visited the motherlode of all spa towns: Budapest. In four days I managed to visit three baths but I’ll be back to sample the several hundred more that I missed. Here’s the juice:

Gellert
This crumbling hotel houses the baths that you always see when you click for images of spas in Budapest. You know the ones: the pool with the columns, the outside pool with the wavy blue tiles. But the Gellert can’t be explained in pictures, it’s a rambling, labyrinthine and diverse bath house. Matthew Barney filmed Cremaster 5 here, which explains some of its otherworldly opulent appeal. The rules are confusing and you will get lost. You may be handed an apron to cover your modesty, or you may not. You may be given a sheet, or not, as you please. Don’t worry about the cabin system, just keep ahold of your metal disk and remember your cabin number.



Although these baths are the province of giggling tourists, if you are fat or wrinkled no one will give you a second glance or trouble your day, so walk proudly. Some baths are for soaking, some baths are for swimming (follow the arrows and swim in the right direction) and some baths are for washing. There are showers designed to wash your bits, and steam baths, massage rooms and a violent wave pool. The best bath is the thermal bath outside, a hot bath underneath some trees where you can soak with your friends and wave the waiter over to serve you beers. The most beautiful baths are the hot baths inside the old building, aquamarine tiles, mosaic, palatial, 36 degrees or 38 degrees, and a marble shelf on which to sit.

Rudas
This bath used to be open to men only, but in December 2005 the management were forced to accept that Hungary is now part of the 21st century, and they started admitting women. Allegedly. I visited this bath during their publicised women’s hours but was still refused admission and told that the Turkish baths, this dark 15th century steam room with a cupola that lets in star-shaped shafts of sunlight, was out of bounds. So I swam in the beautiful and ramshackle swimming pool instead, a pool that would ordinarily make me squeal with delight. I swam amongst sunbeams in cool water, underneath old old old pillars and stone fountains, with old people moving like turtles. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was not wanted here in this man’s place, I couldn’t get over the machismo, or the feeling that I had been lied to so that a sexist institution could save face. So I dried myself off, and I left.

Szechenyi
The queen of the baths, this place is ornate, sumptuous, grand and very very yellow. Endless bathing opportunities lie ahead of you in this palace of water. Inside, dip yourself in pool after pool. This pool is hot, that one slightly hotter; this one is made up of this kind of water, that one of that kind; this pool spins you around with strong jets of water, that one is still and tranquil; this one is old and crumbling, that one is sparkling and new. There is a constant procession of people in their swimsuits, moving along to the next bath, but nevertheless it is a peaceful place. Outside there are three vast pools: the first pool is a crescent shaped thermal pool where people soak in the sun or in the snow, or they let hot water from a fountain bounce off their tired shoulders, or they get pruney fingers playing chess with a friend. The second pool is a swimming pool, a place for lengths. The life guards are very strict, you must wear a hat if you have long hair, and you must swim in the right direction. The last pool is a riot of water jets and bubbles that gets packed full of people at the weekend, guarding their own personal jet and relaxing aggressively.

At the Szechenyi I booked an underwater massage because it was the most bizarre thing on the board. At my appointed time I was taken into a shielded off area by a meaty looking man and told to climb into a big plastic tub. It was hard not to float to the surface but I stayed low, and then he guy switched on a high-pressure hose and gave me a going over with it. I was to move at certain points – on my back, on my front, slightly tilting – so that he could reach my back, my shoulders my legs. It felt as weird as you would imagine. The room was skanky, tiled, I had recently been to the House of Terror and it looked like it could have been the site of a torture session.

Three bath houses in Budapest (.mov 5.9mb)

Read more about my trip to Budapest

http://www.spasbudapest.com