See you in the trees: Ururi Onsen, Sagamiko Pleasure Resort, Kanagawa

Someone asked me the other day what it is about onsens that I love so much. I thought about it, and said “I can’t think of  a place where it’s possible to do any less for 7 hours”
So, having said that, I’m gonna dispense with all the narrative bullshit and just tell you that Ururi Onsen fucking rules.

First, it’s the hills of Sagamiko in Kanagawa, amongst the Sagamiko Pleasure Resort.  One of the 2 rotenburos has a very nice seating arrangement that allows one to look up at the mountains and through the valley.  It’s a pretty sweet view. On this clear day with cirrus clouds of that very ephemeral nature, I was in flavour country.  Although when I was here with Sexy Boy, he may have suggested that the mineral qualities in the water may have been artificially added. Controversial.

 

 

Second, the neruyu/neyu/nekorobi is under its own shelter and is thus like a hut filled with puddles.  They are about 7 or so ‘puddles here’ which are noticeably deeper than usual (they are about around 2 inches deep).  Outside the neyu there are also classic Oriental some wide brimmed hats in case you’re going to get your sunbake on.

Third, they have awesome deck chairs and bath side recliners.  The first time I went here anyone that sat on these would lay on these backwards, so that they were lying down with their legs in the air. What a bunch of pros.

 

 

Fourth, the sauna kinda sucks.  The room’s too big and the oven’s not powerful enough.  Oh well.

Fifth, the mizuboru has a chair formed into its side. That’s amore right there.

Sixth, their jacuzi jets are pretty powerful.  Good for a sore man’s quads.

 

Seventh, the restaurant is pretty solid and they have pretty decent stout beer.  I smashed a few of these last time in between soaks. To boot, they have wifi.

Eighth, even though I am not a ganbanyoku man, I have done it twice here.  Falling asleep in a 50 degree room and sweating into some form of pyjamas is not mormally my kind of bag, but, hey, there you go….. oh, and the sleeping rooms look amazing. But I have not tried them….yet.

Ninth… I did not know this at the time, but during winter the Sagamiko illumination/lighting used the most LED lights of all the Kanto region illuminations.  Hence the ridiculous traffic coming up the hill on the way home at night.

Tenth, this place seems to attract a lot of kids with their fathers.  As I may have mentioned before. it’s a pretty funny sight seeing the little ones trip balls when they first walk in to the sauna exclaiming “It’s hot! It’s hot! It’s hot!” or freaking out when they step into the mizuburo.  Although there was one 10 year old chappy that thought he could stay longer in the plunge pool than me. Fair credit…. he stayed a lot longer than most.  What  a champ.

Let’s check the ol’ board:

THE SCOREBOARD OF SENTO SUCCULENCE: Ururi Onsen, Sagamiko Resoirt
Features:	2 rotenburo, 2 ofuro, 5 massage jets, sauna, neyu nut, outdoor furniture,  mizuburo, ganbanyoku, restaurant, sleeping rooms
Bath Heat/10	8 (41)
Sauna heat/10	6 (felt like about 70)
Spatial aesthetic/5	5 (interior 3)
Quality of Chit chat/5	5 (I didn’t want any….. i really should remove this criteria)
Variety of bath types/10	8 (The ofuro were pretty basic, but the neyu, rotenburo and jets make up for this)
Quality of rotenburo /10	9
Mizuburo/10	8
Lighting /10	7
Cost to value /5	4 (1000 yen, extra 200 for ganbanyoko, and extra 300 for more clothes.)
Accessibility /5	3 (because the journey is kind of part of the point, and final bus is very often)
Little extras /10	8.  That restaurant has a balcony, but could be better. The sleeping rooms are dark as hell. They have wifi.  That’s a biggy if you;re feeling all ‘netty’ and what not in between soaks.  I haven’t even checked out the other stuff at the resort (ferris wheel and rides, garden area)  but I’m sure it’s great.  In fact, hiking up the hill here past the lake could also be an option and would probably take 1-1.5 hours.
Overall feeling /10	9
OVERALL PROXIMITY TO BOILING POINT/100	80

 

80 degrees…. that’s hot.Get there or you can be-be-be square.

P.s To get there, use a journey planner.  In short, just get to Sagamiko Station and ask for the bus to Sagamiko Resort…. it;s a #23 from memory. Warning though:  On the weekend the last part of the Chuo line only has trains every half an hour, it seems ;(

Ururi Onsen/Sagami Lake Onsen
Sagamiko Resort
http://www.sagamiko-resort.jp/ururi/

252 0175

Sagamihara, Kanagawa, Green Wakayanagu 1634 Sagamiko Resort

 

Soshigaya Onsen 21: Freazy like a Sunday Morning

I don’t even recall how we got talking about it, but last Wednesday I asked Ayumi to start googling sentos with ‘minus saunas’ again.  It had been a while since I had thought about them. Matter of fact, discovering that Yukari Onsen (now known as Jindaji no Yu…. I was back there last week… more later) had stopped running theirs pretty much turned me off the idea.  I don’t usually give up easily, but thanks to the onset of summer, the search was back on.  Almost instantaneously Ayumi found one about 30 minutes way, and just as quickly I endeavoured to be at  Soshigaya Onsen 21 before the week was over.

The journey was easy and harmless enough. Well actually it was two trains over 30 minutes, but who’s counting? All it took was a simple 5 minute walk from Soshigaya Okura Station and the guiding hand of Google Sensei.  Discovering the sento was exciting, so exiting in fact that I would, post-bathing, find out that I left my tablet on top pf the ticket machine for 90 minutes.  In any case, the Sento-master was a kind old lady who ushered me in, confirmed that there was in fact a ‘frozen sauna’ (‘reito sauna’) and sent me on my merry way.

{FYI: Insert beginner’s guide to how to get undressed and wash here. I keep reading it in every onsen and sento review I come across, suggesting that there is indeed no such thing as a English-speaking sento readership. Having said that, I also noticed on the way out that Soshigaya Onsen has some pretty sweet sento books in the lobby}

Walking through the changerooms, you immediately notice a few things.  First, there is some of that serious black Tokyo water on the baths to the right.  Oh yes.  I believe is this is why Soshigaya is considered an onsen, although the set up is clearly classic sento bath house material.  The bathouse is a domed/tunnel shape, and when you look down to the back you see three kinds of saunas.  That’s the light at the end of the tunnel alright:  the mist sauna, the classic sauna, and the frozen sauna.

Now like most people I have mentioned this to, I also do not quite comprehend why it is called a sauna, as it is clearly just a small room maintained at 0 degrees.  I had been lead to believe that this sauna would be maintained at -10 degrees, so I will have to venture back to inspect this.  When I say it is a small room, I mean small. Standing room only, in that it is less than 1m squared space.  I wasn’t entirely sure of the etiquette here and if it was a shared space or not.  Even though I later told a guy that  I didn’t care if he joined me in there, after all, it’s a just a couple of dudes standing in a freezer, I’m still no less clear about the manners of this, although this friendly Filipinjo fella explained some of the signs for me.   Here: look at these ominous doors.  Not sure what the red light is for:

Let’s hope that if I find another frozen sauna, it is big enough for some sittin’.  Although I don’t think they’re intended for long term usage, and my sore throat a few days later might have something to do with the fact that I was spending 10 minutes at a time in there.  But I’ll still say not a bad word about the sento, and my official line is that “blame the air conditioning”.

Now, as for the regular sauna, there were some tasty surprises in there. For starters, no TV. Now that’s amore. The last few saunas I’ve been in have been playing absolute gibberish in them.  I swear someone should put the memo out that appropriate  sauna viewing is either curling, sumo, baseball or women’s diving.  It’s that simple.  Heck, I”d even allow the Tour de France.  Basically anything where there’s very little talking.  Which brings us back to this sauna: pink sitting mats, a multiude of signs explaining how to use the sauna, decent lighting and gas operated but somehow the air was also not that dry in there (as opposed to my local).  There was also a sign explaining how with each increase in level/step that you sit on, there is an increase of 20 degrees.  I noticed this earlier last week at Gokuraku, where a thermometer on the first step said 70 degrees but the top level said 90.  Intriguing.

But the treats don’t stop there my friends let me tell you: this bathouse also features a 10 metre swimming pool, which on this day was being dominated by small children and fathers. One child in particular seemed to be taking great amusement at throwing his towel at his dad and counting it off.  The father too seemed to be getting his rocks off.  Not only that, but in the middle of this pool are what I would like to call “taki taps” (I’m sure they have a proper name).  Basically powerful taps dropping water back into the pool, great for massaging the head and shoulders.  Also for massaging my disappointment that the monks at the Takao waterfalls won’t train me in waterfall meditation because I don’t speak fluent Japanese.  Wah wah wah.  So this was a nice surprise.  In this area the roof is also transparent, and you know how much I love that. (Maybe you don’t… I love that a lot).   The photo below really, really does not do the place justice:

Soshigaya also seems to have a real hard on for tenkiburo (the electric baths).  I wandered into at least two by accident and realised my mistake pretty quickly when my fist started curling up.  Can’t say I’m the hugest fan of the old tenkiburos, but for what it’s worth these ones seemed pretty sweet.  And, just in case you felt that no bathhouse would be complete without a tv, there is indeed a massive flatscreen playing at the top of the tunnel to be viewed from all the baths, albeit with the sound down.  My god these guys have class.

Let’s see how much class:

THE SCOREBOARD OF SENTO SUCCULENCE
Features:	Small 2 levelled tower sauna, three black water baths, one silk (white) bath, three tenkiburo, 10 m swimming pool, taki taps, mist sauna, frozen sauna, nice lobby.
Bath Heat/10	8 (42 was the hottest)
Sauna heat/10	10 (94 degrees, gas, no TV)
Spatial aesthetic/5	4
Quality of Chit chat/5	3
Variety of bath types/10	8
Quality of rotenburo /10	7 (I;m counting the swimming pool here)
Mizuburo/10	8
Lighting /10	8
Cost to value /5	4 (680 yen for 2 hours + sauna, 450 otherwise)
Accessibility /5	5 (it’s open 14:00-26:00) five days a week. easy walk from the station.
Little extras /10	10. Lobby, swimming pool taki taps, frozen sauna. I’ll say no more.
Overall feeling /10	10
OVERALL PROXIMITY TO BOILING POINT/100	85

 

That’s some hot stuff.  I was only there for about 75 minutes last time, and didn’t even step into the mist sauna, so I’ll be back for sure.  Even if it is two trains and about 40 minutes away.

Soshigaya Onsen 21
http://www.soshigaya-onsen21.com/

		Setagaya–ku, Tokyo Soshigaya 3-36-21
			03-3483-2611
			14:00 to 2:00
			(Sales of admission tickets to the end 1:30)
			460 yen for adults  in ¥ 180 people (elementary school age or younger)  ¥ 80 children (preschoolers)

Batter up, play ball: Oedo Korona, Sendai.

Having just been at my first baseball game in Sendai, do not be surprised if this review is filled with many half baked baseball metaphors and analogies.  I apologise in advance and hope that they are not all foul balls.

With half a bottle of sake and couple of hours of drumming with plastic baseball baths under my belt, I stepped up to the plate for another round of Oedo onsens.    Up in Sendai, at the Oedo Korona, there were a few notable changes.  Firstly, they weren’t using that beloved tag system that lets you pay for everything with a bar code.  There was also less fanfare upon entry…. such is the end of my criticisms.

For example, what other rotenburo has 31 rubber duckies for children to play with.  I didn’t count, the kids did. I probably shouldn’t have illustrated how to turn said duckies into water pistols. But who doesn’t like seeing brothers and sisters squirt each other in the face? (Answer: their fathers).  One repeated feature of this onsen are walls with water running down it.  How very, very pleasant.  Nowhere is this better exemplified than in what could only be described as The High Counsel of the Mad Kings of Spatown.  This is a row of about 5 or so slabs of rock, very vertical for those with a slump, with a fine layer of hot water running down the back, and a foot bath beneath it.  Kind of like a right angled, sitting neyu. Fantastdiddliastic. Like slumping in the dug out after one serious strike out.

The rather wide, central rotenburo here was also a smash hit. notable for the very large flat screen tv playing in the upright corner of the outdoor area. Why the f not?  Slightly bubbly/carbonated water. No complaints about the sauna- just a real 90 degree straight shooter there.   Same again about the steamroom.  Misty-erious and just how i like it.  The mizurburo is one of the deeper of its kind, at 1m, again with, yep, you guessed it, another wall of cascading water.  Although this made me wonder- given the space constraints often in Japan and certainly Tokyo, why is the mizurburo never a vertical plunger pool at 1.5-1.8 metres deep ala Peninsula Hot Springs?

Like other Oedos, Korona also has the wooden planks for a sweet lie down.  Check and check.  There were some rather bright floodlights pointed at the headrest area, so us brothers laid back to front.  Minutes later, I noticed another man had started to do the same.  Hey hey we’re onsen trend setters.  There is also a hinoki bath and a couple of bucket baths.  All berry berry good.  And, not to put too fine a point on it. but Korona also has a very reasonable drinking fountain.  Usually the fountains at onsens are either too weak a stream or they are too cold and hurt my precious teef.  This one was ticketyboo.  

That;s right: I’m turned on by drinking fountains, walls of cascading water and places to lie down. Let’s see just how succulent it is:

THE SCOREBOARD OF SENTO SUCCULENCE
Features:	Sauna, steamroom, mizuboro, bucket baths,  3 ofuro (basic jets), 3 rotenburo, hinoki baths, the high counsel for mad kings, wooden planks, and the waterwalls
Bath Heat/10	8
Sauna heat/10	8 (90 degrees)
Spatial aesthetic/5	5
Quality of Chit chat/5	5
Variety of bath types/10	8
Quality of rotenburo /10	9
Mizuburo/10	9
Lighting /10	7
Cost to value /5	4 (700, from memory)
Accessibility /5	2 ( it was an 1800yen taxi ride there and back….hmmmm)
Little extras /10	9
Overall feeling /10	9
OVERALL PROXIMITY TO BOILING POINT/100	83

 .    

    

83 degrees: that’s pretty succulent.

Oedo-Onsen-Monogatari Sendai corona
〒 983-0005 Sendai, Miyagi Prefecture Miyagino Ward Fukumuro character Tanakamae 1-53-1
022-786-1426

http://www.ooedoonsen.jp/korona/

 

Nothing Naff about NAF: Utsukushi no Yu

NAF Wellness Centre, AKA Utsukushi no Yu… you’re alright with me.

First off, on the weekends you can do laps here a 25m pool. Tick and tick.
Secondly, the extent of spa jets here is quite insane. About 7 different types, some of which had rhythmic settings working at different times on the lower back.  And one that shot bubbles straight up your pooper. Why not.
Thirdly, the four or so rotenburos are surrounded by very tall _____ trees.  And there is plenty of space to chill outside.
Fourthly, they have 2 saunas (60 and 90).  Having 2 saunas is slowly becoming something of a mandatory feature for me.
Fifthly, at least one of their ofuros is damn hot.  Nice spotlight on the bath as well.
Sixthly, it’s a piece of piss to get to, in so far as it is about a 5 minute walk from a station that is itself about a 20 minute train from Shibuya.  I don’t know who is putting out the message that Yukari is easier to get to.
Seventhly, the restaurant is not a bad place for a lie down on the tatami and a snooze.
Eightly, I want to eat ramen there now.
Ninthly, the pool boy was ever so keen to teach me the English words for the different swimming courses. To the point of stopping me mid-swim to tell me.
Tenthly, because I said so.
Bummer that the internet offers so little in the way of pictures.

Let’s board this baby.

THE SCOREBOARD OF SENTO SUCCULENCE
Features:	Sauna (90 and 60), 4 rotenburo, mizuburo, 3 ofuro, 7 spa jets, restaurant, 25m pool, massage, relaxation room.
Bath Heat/10	9
Sauna heat/10	10 (90 & 60 degrees)
Spatial aesthetic/5	4
Quality of Chit chat/5	4
Variety of bath types/10	9 The jets, man, the jets.
Quality of rotenburo /10	7
Mizuburo/10	8
Lighting /10	8. It was also overcast that day, and for me onsen+overcast= bread and butter.
Cost to value /5	4 (1200 with swimming on weekends, 900 otherwise)
Accessibility /5	4
Little extras /10	7
Overall feeling /10	9
OVERALL PROXIMITY TO BOILING POINT/100	83

 

Yessir, this place gets me wet.
And yet I haven’t been back there since I visited almost 6 weeks ago.
So little time, so much soaking.

NAF Wellness Centre
AKA Utsukushi no YU

Address 2-3-45 Takaidonishi, Suginami-ku, Tokyo
Telephone 03-3334-0008
Home Page www.nafsport.com (In Japanese)
Business Hours: 10:00am to 24:00
Admission Price: Adults 900 yen (1200 yen on weekends), children 600 yen (800 on weekends)

Just a couple of dudes who like to soak: Polar Bears Club

Being a general procrastinator and inveterate cheap bastard means that Christmas presents for my family are usually purchased at the last minute. In the year 2012 I took this to a new level and had not acquired any gifts prior to December 24. I dabbled with the idea of sorting this out on the 24th but I could not resist the allure of taking long strolls along Montreal’s frozen downtown streets, thereby forsaking shopping, the underground network of tunnels designed to prevent precisely this kind of outdoor walking and, as it would turn out, my brother’s health. My solution: buy my family giftcards to Bota Bota. What a lovely idea. A family Christmas in a sauna. Even the jolly fatman couldn’t top that one. Sure, my mother relies on a wheelchair 40% of the time but, other than that, what could go wrong? Long story short(er), Mama Bear wasn’t down, The Walletchucker was fighting off some bronchitis thanks to that walk, and the slightly ailing Magnificent Cunt (I’m sorry, but that actually is his name) and I were subsequently locked in for a visit to The Polar Bear Club in the Laurentians, about an hour away from Montreal. As for Papa Bear, see the entry on Bota Bota.

I’m not going to lie: I was a little bit apprehensive about how a sauna with the Magnificent Cunt (we’ll call him MC from now) would go down. Being a “high energy entrepreneur of good times all-round” with a distinct distaste for reggae, I wondered how the sweatbox would treat him. Almost every house he has ever owned had a hot tub, but I could not recall ever having soaked with him and, more to the point, I was fairly confident that for him hot tub equalled sexy times or group drinking sessions at 7am. Neither of which was going to happen here. To boot, I had a strong inclination that for him a one hundred degree sauna would make as much sense as going to bed without having eaten an apple. So, I had concerns. But these concerns could not really affect me too much given my excitement to be going to a Nordic Spa with 2 saunas, 2 waterfalls and mid-sauna access to the river.

The drive to The PBC was classic MC: making our way along traffic free highways under a minty fresh baby blue sky, accompanied by views of mountains and anecdotes of recent business meetings in a spa like the very one we were going to. Hell, I even think we broached the topic of our desires to raise children, all to the tune of mid 90s alternative rock and semi-mainstream British techno. We stopped into a St. Hubert restaurant for a chicken sandwich of some repute: personally I cannot understand the Montrealer hyperbole that surrounds what is otherwise a typical roast chicken. I have a suspcion that it might relate to the whole Anglo-Franco divide that seems to dictate everything else in Quebec. In any case, the drive was as smooth and hassle free as I would hope the PBC experience would be.

Alas, the PBC parking was something of a bitch, resulting in a slippery lil’ hike to the premises along roads with oncoming traffic. I had been warned of some the pitfalls of the PBC, such as the tiny locker rooms and the noise of the nearby highway to the baths, but this segway was not mentioned. But, hey, as they say, “no biggy”. Checking in was relatively painless, we were given a tour (during which my questions about watering the rocks were misinterpreted) and sent on our merry way. And yes, it’s true, the changerooms were and probably still are greatly insufficient in both size and style. Think Carlton Baths and you got the idea. As for the sound of the highway…. whomever made those criticisms should just grow the fuck up and learn how to meditate if one if going to be so easily disturbed.

Where was I? Oh yes…. The MC and I very quickly put our minds to tasting every lolly in the candy store. The Club is arranged along a series of connecting lodges so we ventured on out merry way from building to building. It would take us a few hours to realise that, alas, not every spa and sauna could be reached without walking amongst the cold air. Or, more importantly, along the frozen floor. Our feet took a bit of beating that day, perhaps nowhere more so than the actual granddaddy sauna.

Hat’s off to the PBC for their sauna set up: Preceding and attached to the sauna is a glass panelled relaxation room that overlooks the river and is kept at a thoroughly soporific temperature. Aside from hooks for towels and benches for lazing, this room also features two signs: an electronic one, alerting us to the current temperature of the sauna (which on the day never fell below 100) and a typed sign: “Only one person to enter the sauna at any one time”. Now here are a bunch of dudes who take maintaining sauna temperatures seriously and Peninsula Hot Springs, if you’re listening, take note. This is how it’s done. Three rows of seating, brick sauna and not much opportunity for getting distracted by events outside. And a floor that will scold your feet sooner than you can say ‘it’s like a sauna in here’. I learnt my lesson about thongs very quickly that day.

This map might give you an idea. Maybe more pictures from the MC later.

(On an aside note, if someone has some spare time on their hands, do mes favour and invent some post-sauna boots. Thongs don’t cut the mustard, crocs are, well, crocs, and the kind of cushioned slippers that they provide down at the Peninsula Hot Springs become soaked within minutes. Ideally I’m contemplating some kind of insulated, mid-shin rubber boot. Think waterproof ugh-boot and you’re half way there. Put simply, something to keep you feet warm whilst walking around but also something that can get quite quite wet.)

My apprehensions about the MC and the sauna were totally on the money: he didn’t last long in there. The fact that the PBC maintains a pretty militant silence policy didn’t help: I even saw one customer calling in some muscle to get some people to shut up. As a result, we spent a fair bit of time doing our own thing that day. I must say we were both unimpressed by the ‘access to the river points’: both of these were only about thigh deep meaning you had to lie down on your back to get the full river experience. There was another plunge pool but, if memory serves me correct, if was poorly located vis a vis the saunas. Nonetheless, my sweet spot was continually hit by going from the plus 100 degrees to the river plunge point with a rope for you to hang onto . My eyes did plenty of rolling into the back of my head that day my friends, let me tell you. I suspect that a lot of their outdoor furniture had been packed away for winter, and as such their vision for winter comfort fell a fair way short of the mind blowing standards set by Le Nordik. There was no much allowance for chilling outside, with only a small amount of skinny bench space provided. I dare say that was perhaps my biggest gripe of my day, in so far as my outdoor cool down process was one interrupted by a steady flow of people centimetres within my bench-lying body.

As I was saying before I so rudely distracted myself, my brother and I did our own thing that day, from time to time, only to regroup in 2 of the outdoor spas that were maintained at an approximate 39 degrees. Of these my favourite was the one higher up, from which one could ogle at three separate mountains with various ski tracks on them. I’m feeling like making gross understatement so I’ll say that was ‘nice’ and leave it at that. The MC had made his lot in life with this bath: I do not think he moved far from this one. I dabbled with a few more, including the waterfalls which were once again trumped by the majesty of Le Nordik’s waterfalls. Not to say I didn’t spend the best part of 20 minutes with my head under them. They just lacked power, that’s all, and I had imagined the water a bit hotter. As I write this, I also recall being slightly put off by an pronounced presence of chlorine in the water, but this could be my memory playing tricks on me.

I don’t know if the MC and I made an agreement but at some point we ended up in the zero-gravity chairs, which sounded amazing at first, looked underwhelming at second but finally delivered on their promise. These were a fine way to end the day, and I had managed to sort myself out in the four hour time constraint that I had set for myself.

We packed up our things and I let the Magnificent Cunt do what he does best: make a plan for a taste sensation journey that would lead us back to Old Montreal. This involved a stop in at Chez Claudette, a damn fine poutinery where he and I would smash some tandoori poutine, followed by an order from his downstairs fusion sushi joint. I could go on for quite some time about the latter, but this ain’t no food blog now, is it?

Very curious to see how the Bastu Board delivers the Justice:

 

The Heat/15	15
Spatial aesthetic/5	4
Quality of Chit chat/10	3 (9 with MC)
Ability and efficacy of water on rocks /10	7
Quality of fresh air access /10	8
Cool down/10	10
Lighting /10	9
Cost to value /5	3
Accessibility /5	1
Little extras /10	7
Overall feeling /10	7
OVERALL PROXIMITY TO BOILING POINT/100	74 (80 with MC)

Well, this is controversial. I have just realised that I have been occasionally including personal company in the chit chat factor. I’ll allow it this one last time and shall try and remain more objective in the future. As such I’m in a bit of a bind as to whether or not to deem this as Hot, or Not.

I’ve had a great weekend: PBC, thank your lucky stars, you’ve made the cut.

Polar Bear’s Club
930 Des Laurentides Blvd, Piedmont, QC J0R 1K0, Canada ‎
+1 450-227-4616 ‎ · polarbearsclub.ca

 

Sagacious Sweatin’ in Sydney: Bondi Icebergs

So, I’ve been asking people for guest sauna reviews.
The Sage has stepped up to the plate and boy hasn’t she delivered the goods.
Mmmmmm…. delivered goods….
Enjoy. I know I sure did.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

I’ve never wholeheartedly shared the hatred of a sauna window. While I will always extoll the virtues of an unholy dark sweatbox (Terry T, I’m looking at you), there’s at least one room with a view that holds a special place in my heart. Sure, that huge window comes at the expense of a few good degrees of heat. Sure, one’s need for a view while sauna-ing comes precisely from the lack of requisite zone-out temperatures caused by the presence of the impractical wall-sized pane of glass. But when the product of a causal compromise looks like this, well, anything can be rationalised.

 

 

Yes, that’s a silly commercial shot. Real sauna-cam is a tricky art to master, and one I haven’t actually gotten around to testing anyway. We (I) want to bring less, not more gear into the sauna. But I testify that this photo isn’t all too different to what the eye beholds inside Bondi Icebergs’ sauna room. Hailing from the bitter and unbeautiful southern climes of Melbourne town as I do, there’s a tendency for everything in Sydney to take on a postcard-from-paradise look. Don’t second guess, just enjoy the pretty.

Icebergs is a seabath facility perched iconically on the south side of Bondi Beach. As far as dealing with Bondi goes, it’s probably your smartest bet for avoiding tourists (you hypocritical tourist, you). At only $5.50 for entry you’d have rocks in your head not to swing by. The baths, as you can see, are filled with the same good ocean water as the rest of the beach. There’s a larger pool, perhaps just shy of 20 metres, for lap swimming, and another smaller pool for wading, frolicking and floating. Because this is Bondi, the cult of the body beautiful for which Sydney is so famous takes on parodic dimensions here. Icebergs, like the rest of the beach, will have babes in all varieties in varied states of repose. Leg spreading, phone yapping. This is ok, because Icebergs is also home to the serious group of swimmers by the same name. These folk have earned membership and the tacit respect of non-members by swimming at the baths at least three Sundays of every month between May and September. That’s Australian winter, folks. It’s still fucking cold. Icebergs (the place) maintains a good little balance between lightweight beach babes and intense sea dogs that love a regular freeze and thaw. Surprisingly the baths themselves are rarely what anyone would call busy – even in peak summer season. The only place that’s never quiet is the sauna.

Yep, the sauna really steps up. Despite all the charms of Icebergs, I’d probably never really cross the Point Piper/Bondi threshold if the rocks weren’t cooking. To reiterate – entry to this place is $5.50. That’s FULL entry. Fuck, the bitch of NARC stings me for $7.10 with concession. And all I get to see through Northcote’s window is a balding Greek grandfather chatting up a middle aged Vietnamese woman in the spa. It’s not even as good as it sounds.

The sauna at Icebergs is powered by two large conventional electric units, one at either side of the door. On my most recent visit a major flaw in the design of the room was pointed out to me during sauna chat – incidentally, is there any better subject for sauna chat than saunas? For some reason the ceiling is a foot higher above the front part of the sauna before it drops down again at a right angle for the rest of the room. This means that a good deal of the heat generated by the units rises and becomes trapped at the point before the ceiling drops to its regular height, only to escape out of the door whenever it’s opened. Which is often. As a consequence the sauna is rarely as hot as it should be for its size, considering it’s cooking on two burners.

This is mitigated by the strong watering culture I suspect is fostered by the Icebergs members. There’s a refreshing and absolute lack of signs forbidding the pouring of water on the rocks. I have never visited without some wise-guy giving them a full dousing, often with a dash of Eucalyptus oil. Once I accidentally dripped my pink lemonade bottle on the rocks, leaving the room in a stinking cloud of cotton candy – and no one minded. With the right person attending to these duties, the temperature can rise to a doable level. Although I’m sad to say I’m yet to experience a good ‘I’ve getting the fuck outta here’ moment, I have zoned and dreamed, usually with an eye to the horizon hoping for a whale sighting (it happens, only not to me), or otherwise, watching the younger surfers wring all the ride they can out of the waves that wash the shore.

As an incurable non-lap swimmer my appreciation of the sea bath aspect of Icebergs only comes from using the pool as a between-sauna-rounds plunge. In this respect the pool is more than adequate – it’s deep, clean and super cold. Knowing the water has come directly from the adjacent ocean somehow gives the act of plunge-pooling an extra refreshing dimension. I have no time for diving into chlorinated water between saunas so I’m particularly grateful for opportunities to do true hot-cold cycling as the sauna gods intended.

I’ve always enjoyed the chat at Icebergs. Experience behind the bar has shown me there’s nothing bitchier than a middle-aged businessman and certain Icebergs members have proven no mean exception. Last time someone was getting their speedos in a knot about never getting invited to on ongoing brunch. There’s also some high quality bullshit going on – ideas for phone apps, general theories of language acquisition, work-out tips, Indonesia in the 1970s, bifocal versus multifocal lenses, pretty girls. That’s the talk you want to hear, and there’s no shortage of it. Given its location within a premiere tourist destination – there’s a weird restaurant upstairs and god knows what goes on up there – it’s reassuring to know that Icebergs retains its culture of regulars. One can’t help feeling that these guys know they know what they’re doing. Let’s see what the board says:

The Heat/15	11
Spatial aesthetic/5	5
Quality of Chit chat/10	9
Ability and efficacy of water on rocks /10 (or use sensor to increase steam/heat)	10
Quality of fresh air access /10	10
Cool down/10	10
Lighting /10	9
Cost to value /5	5
Accessibility /5	4
Little extras /10	8
Overall feeling /10	9
OVERALL PROXIMITY TO BOILING POINT/100	90

Holy moly, 90. That might sound high for a place that has never pushed it, heat wise. Still, while it hasn’t pushed it, the room does get hot enough to sweat and zone. I imagine without the sauna as the warm ‘carrot’ dangling in front of swimmers doing laps in the freezing water of the Pacific, Icebergs would have very few members. It’s the unsung hero of the club, and fast becoming my personal favourite haunt in our fairer neighbouring city.

Bondi Icebergs:  ‘The Home of Winter Swimming Since 1929’

1 Notts Ave, Bondi Beach NSW 2026

Hardcore saunography

In many ways, I cannot help but think of Ottawa’s Le Nordik like Melbourne’s Der Raum.  The latter was possibly one of my favourite bars in Melbourne.  Drinks like the Moroccan Blazer, The Baxbeet Pinot, Sausage Fingers, Death in the Afternoon, Sugar Cane Swizzler….. we had some some of the finest taste sensations at the corner of Church and Swan.  Drinks that were groin grabbingly transcendent. Drinks that insisted you tell your partner to shut the fuck up (as did the sign outside the door). But getting smashed there…. that remained a challenge.  And on the one night at Le Nordik back in January 2013, try as hard as I could, I just couldn’t hit the sweet spot.

But by golly Le Nordik sure offers a dizzying array of opportunities.  I had never been in a barrel sauna before, let alone one with small barrels of snow outside for the stove.  I had also never been to an aufguss session before, this time held by my good friend Lady J and some pretty mad towel skills.  The Finnish Sauna there was massive and I’d guess it could seat around 60 people at full capacity. The stove itself was, from memory, about 2 x 3 metres.  On that night it felt like it was operating at a cool 75 degrees though- and as soon as I wrapped my head around this and adjusted to the fact that this was more of a sleeping room, I was down with that.  I did not have the pleasure to check out the steamrooms- we had put ourselves on a bit of a tight timeframe.  Hence my continual use of the barrel.  There has been a smaller, hotter sauna up until a few weeks prior when it burnt down- a damn shame.

I discovered the waterfall way way way too late in the evening- approximately a 4 metre fall of 6 degree water. That was dope and would be my bread and butter if I lived within reach of Ontario. had some serious whack to it.

But by far the keeper that evening was the Tuli . Seriously, look at this sexy lil number:
A hexagon (Lady J?) shaped sauna with a hexagon shaped glass fireplace in the middle. Doper than dope.  Logs of wood outside and windows to see back into Ottawa. Probably maintained at….. well, everything felt like 75 degrees that night, in spite of the minus temps outside.  Sure, when we put ice on the rocks on top we almost killed the fire, and assholes keep putting their towels to dry in front of other people watching the show, but still…. very hard not to be down with this place. Top 5 saunas for sure, regardless of the heat.  That’s the thing with Le Nordik- if all the temperatures were right (Lady J insisted they were having electrical issues that night… although many of the saunas were wood fired;)… yes if all the temperatures were right, it could be a real connosieurs’ kind of place. A sauna for every occasion. And while I was lucky enough to not be my usual asshole self and adjust to this, I just couldn’t get my groove on.

So I enjoyed the Tuli like a Game of Thrones bender on a Friday night.  We rolled in the snow and jumped into one of the horizon pools that looked back towards Ottawa.  I mean, this one:

Hell, I could even get over the fact that Cafe Del Mar cds were playing from the trees.  I briefly sampled the outdoor lounges with fireplaces, the baths that were cloaked in dark blue light and corned with make out couples (the iced steps to which were a real deathtrap).  I enjoyed having my hair freeze.  I spent a lot of time standing outside.  I didn’t eat, but the restaurant looked A.O.K.  Actually, I kinda feel like there were a few things I didn’t sample but from this candyshop of a bathhouse. The salt baths, for one.  The massages for two, obviously.  Serves me right for being a meat and potatoes kinda guy.  Let’s see what the Board says:

The Heat/15	11
Spatial aesthetic/5	5
Quality of Chit chat/10	4
Ability and efficacy of water on rocks /10	10
Quality of fresh air access /10	10
Cool down/10	10
Lighting /10	9
Cost to value /5	3
Accessibility /5	2
Little extras /10	9
Overall feeling /10	9
OVERALL PROXIMITY TO BOILING POINT/100	83

83 degrees. I obviously like this place.  Have a look at their website- it’s totally  saunographic to be sure.
The chit-chat quotient is topical: I had some great chats there but they do have the silence-policy.
And if you didn’t have a car, you’d have to bus out to here. Which I would do in a heartbeat.  I was naive to think 4 hours here would cut it.  8 hours for sure.  ‘Cause we all need to be loved long time.

And as for that silence policy, dig this: make your saunas hot enough, and we’ll all shut up eventually.

Le Nordik – Spa Nature

16 Chemin Nordik, Chelsea, QC J9B 2P7, Canada ‎

+1 819-827-1111 ‎ · lenordik.com

The Love Bota

I do not think I have ever been happier than the time I saw my father blissing out on the stern side of Bota Bota.I had just baked myself in the top floor sauna, blanched in the outdoor Japanese plunge pool, waddled ever so carefully to the spa outside on the back deck (in which I knew Dad aka Seargent Shortcut was soaking) and proceeded to rest on the deckchairs. The deckchairs were metal- oh yessss….. like frozen knives through hot butter. I lay down, my eyes doing their rollercoaster routine, the slightly off-putting yellow river waterfalling in the distance, snow garnishing my roasted flesh, the breeze post-coital smooth talking the shit out the situation…. and when i finally open my eyes, i look over towards Big Daddy. He is over there with his head back on the edge of the spa, probably flirting with angels in his own private heaven and bombing out like an absolute pro.

It’s nice when what goes around comes around.

So I’ll avoid the usual long winded narratives that usually expose my love for a given sauna. I’ll be blunt:Bota. Bota. Has.Got.Its.Shit.Going.On.Sure, they rock that whole “No talking please” imperative that I found in all of Canada’s Spa complexes, but try telling that to a couple of bogans who aren’t so much fish out of water as they  are…. actually, that’s exactly what my Dad and I are. Fish out of water. Anyways…. they got it goin on. The lil tug boat has been converted into a spa complex and permanently moored in the North River. At least I think permanently, I’ll let you check the back story. The important things are that it has 2 saunas, both with 4 separate ovens in them. That shit is genius, so that if some overzealous lil fishy comes along and drowns one of the stoves with  ladles of water,  the other 3 can still fire up.

The first one looks like this:
Oh dang we don’t have an image of that. Well, here’s the Seargent and I anyway.

And the second one looks like this:

Top sauna views to be sure.  Looking out over a frozen river while being in a sauna.  There’s a nice contrast there for which I’m yet to I’m yet to invent a contrived metaphor. I’ll let you know when I do.

The plunge pools obviously rule, with one being indoor and one outdoor.  The steamrooms I did not try, although if the Seargent’s story is anything to go by (about telling someone else to sit next to him because he thought it was me) I’m guessing it was pretty damn steamy in there.   The two outdoor spas are on opposite sides of the boat, allowing you to look back into the city and over to  good ol’ Habitat 67 respectively.  The indoor lounges also kick serious ass. the couches are alllll right, good bean bags, hammocks and all that. Thrown in some magazines and few art journals, and you have some serious ‘rug on valium’ scenarios.  I’m quite excited to see how Bota fares on (rejigged) Board of Bastu Justice:

The Heat/15	12
Spatial aesthetic/5	5
Quality of Chit chat/10	With old man: 9 Without: 2
Ability and efficacy of water on rocks /10	10
Quality of fresh air access /10	10
Cool down/10	10
Lighting /10	9
Cost to value /5	3
Accessibility /5	4
Little extras /10	9
Overall feeling /10	9
OVERALL PROXIMITY TO BOILING POINT/100	88 with Sgt. Shortcut 81 without.

Scoring about 80 either which way, which certainly puts it in the right side of ‘Hot or not’.

I didn’t eat or drink there and I didn’t have any massage. They are the extras, and I am simple man. Or so I like to tell myself.

On the walk back to my brother’s house,  the Seargent turned to me and said “Thank you for that beautiful experience”.

Beautiful. He said beautiful.

Dad’s don’t usually say that shit.

Saunas: 1    Schematas of human interaction: 0

Well, we all know that’s not really how that particular scoreboard looks, but I gotta lotta years left in me and lot of time to break this shit down, one sweatbox at a time. I just wish more muthas’ would step into the ring.
(Now there’s a thought for another day…. my mother and I in a sauna… that shit’d be real.)

Bota Bota
http://botabota.ca/en/
358 rue de la Commune ouest, Montreal, QC, Canada

+1 514-284-0333 ‎ · botabota.ca

Carlton Baths R.I.P

You know you truly love something if when it is stolen from you, you are not filled with anger or hatred, but the joy that you once shared in something so beautiful.
And that you don’t mind resorting to cliches to describe it.

Ever since the Yarra City Council kicked us out of Carlton Baths for renovations in late 2011, with the additional pain that they’ll be reopening sans sauna,  I have been a very dry vagabond indeed.  On grumbly days, moody with temperamental showers and outbursts of breeze, there’s nowhere I would rather be than sitting outside in the courtyard near Rathdowne and Alexandra, lying semi-naked on an ice-cold metal bench, hearing the sounds of eastbound traffic, having the sensation of thought slowly come back to your brain as your heart slows down its dance.  It is here that I discovered the joys of a cardio workout without moving and, as My Deepest Brother on The Planet would put it, that “no brain states are the shit”.  Moreover, it is at the CB that I realised that the cool down between sessions is, for me, possibly more important and ecstatic than the sweats themselves.

No one has probably ever said what needs to be said- the Carlton City Baths is the thing of legends:  the prison-style gym, so small that people took their workouts into the courtyard, the late night shenanigans of the housing estate crew amongst the free weights, the days in summer when we’d bring fish and chips in from down the road, the not so observant staff that made paying for entry something of an honour principle, not to mention what went on in the sauna (and boy won’t we get to that)…. and I only called the CB home for about 18 months.  So many more stories that I know not of.

Even though I’d spent a fair bit of time sweating all up and down Sweden, I reckon the CB is where I really got my method down.  Friday night was the night.  I might do a workout, I might not. Either which way, I’d be aiming to get in that sauna by about 8.00pm for a solid two hours.  For 3  fifteen minute on- fifteen minute off sessions, and always remembering to take two towels. For a while there I went a bit nuts and started taking a bath robe with me.  I’d try to be wrapped up 945pm, as the CB had only one shower and a very small changeroom and whilst I loved them for literally keeping their sauna on til 10pm (none of that turning the stove off half an hour bullshit that a lot of places do: this is pretty high on my shitlist incidentally) their showers were small to say the least.  After a sauna session here one couldn’t help feeling like a cloud wandering down Lygon Street, with its cluster fuck of shitty restaurants and flawed shisha joints: unaffected, deeply satisfied, clean.  A cloud that would probably keep pissing for the next two hours (try not breaking your seal in a sauna), but a cloud nonetheless.

Essentially, the greatness of the CB comes down to three things: i) their stove-sauna ratio was entirely on the money, so even without steam it could really bust your balls  ii) not only did they allow for the pouring of water on the rocks, but they left a very large funnelled watering pot in the sauna. Even when it broke down, they still didn’t take away the watering pot. What champions. iii) most of the clientele that frequented it knew that this was the best sauna in town, loved cranking it, and were characters to boot that loved to have a chat.

Yeah, I saw some funny things in this sauna.  The fellow who took in his shower radio and strapped ice blocks to his head (have I amalgamated these two?), the chap who always seemed to be on a date whenever I went in there, the Eucalyptus nut, the girl who was once seen writing an essay in there…. and then there were the regulars whose names I never really remembered. There was a veritable sense of panic amongst us when we found out the double pronged bad news about the CB closure and discussions about where to go next. The consensus was Nortchote Baths, and true, thus far they probably are the next best thing, but that’s a sad truth.  In any case, I loved that amongst these regulars I was not the one that liked to crank it the most.  Some of those fellas (you know who you are) went positively ballistic, as in putting on a litre of water at a time.  And that chat, the chat was good.  Random as shit as good sauna talk should be.  There was one fella who I would only see about once every 3 weeks. He would always comment on my weight change, good or bad, and we’d always forget what the other one did. Matter of fact, he was a nicely strange man. I bumped into him sometime later on Russell St and spontaneously invited him to dinner. The proceeding conversation felt exactly like a sauna conversation with long pauses, strong diversions and sighs.  He was lamenting how even though he called Melbourne home he didn’t know the people in the apartments nearby… It was like we never left Rathdowne St at all.

Man I’d love to be chilling on those outside benches again.  After getting my heartbeat up above 170 ( I always counted) or having to flee conversations because I couldn’t think straight anymore, I loved rushing outside and taking in some of that cold cold air.  Getting an idea in your head then was like watching the neanderthal come out of the cave, if you’ll excuse the trite.  I always wanted to give the CB some outdoors furniture for their courtyard. No doubt they’ll have some when they reopen, but at what cost? I’ll tell you the cost- no fucking sauna!! Okay, I said I wouldn’t get angry.

So, yes, their shallow 25 metre pool kind of sucked, their changerooms left a lot to be desired, their lockers were kinda frustrating and their spa was a bit soupy.   But you know I don’t care about these things.  The cost was about right, just under 5 clams concession I think.  It was open til 10 weekdays and 730 on the weekend.  It was never full and always, always hot.  It was on my tram line, and as close to the city as a sauna needs to be (see separate entry on how people protect their personal space in city baths).

It was the Carlton Baths and it was glorious.

The Heat Is On/15                             15
Space is the place/5                         5
I Heard it On the Grapevine/10        9
Release /10                                        10
Fresh  /10                                           9
I Get Wet /10                                      7
Ride the Lightning /10                      8
The Price of Love /5                          5
Easy like a Sunday morning /5        5
Boom boom shake shake the room  /10    7 
How Love Feels /10                           9

Overall proximity to boiling point     89 /100

Carlton Baths Community Centre
248 Rathdowne Street, Carlton VIC 3053

(03) 9347 3677‎ · carltonbaths.ymca.org.au

http://www.carltonbaths.ymca.org.au/

The Peninsula Hot Springs: The Scorchese

This place is indeed some of kind of wonderful waterworld, so much so that I’m gonna start thinking of the man who helped open my locker as Kevin Costner.  But before I start, I should mention that the following review contains spoilers and that if you like being suprised just stop reading and get your ass down the Peninsula asap.

………………………………………………………………
I have heard people wish the Peninsula Hot Springs were closer to the city, but I couldn’t disagree more.  The 80 minute journey down the Eastlink, with its assortment of public artworks of various quality (NB: I reckon we would book rooms at The Hotel were it actually a hotel), feels like the beginning of a lovely holiday and the drive back is filled with equal feelings of sadness and deep satisfaction that only a great trip can bring. Truth be told, I never really notice the time it takes to get down there. Commenting on the different colours of the Eastlink sunshades, counting Bunningses, passing through Rosebud, loading up on dolmades and other supplies, making sure to note where the nearest Macdonalds is, finding parking in the ever crowded lot on a Sunday afternoon, walking the last stretch to reception…. well, it’s all about warming up, isn’t it?

But once there, the Hot Springs open up to you like a lotus flower, with some kind of aqua treat always around the corner. For me, it begins with the body wash in the showers in the changeroom.  It’s not Aesop but something of that nature.  Once emerging from the changerooms, there is certainly a kid in the candy store effect.  You do in fact want to try every body of water first like a water-hungry Goldilocks or a hippo with a home to find. So, for the first while or so, The Sage and I tested some out, and this is what we found:

1) The pool immediately outside the changerooms: it’s the deepest (bout 1.5m me thinks) and seemingly one of quietest of the pools. This is probably due to its length, so people aren’t so close together.  I should mention at this point that I find my attitude towards chatting in sauanas and baths quite contrary (soak in solitude, sweat in society?? That sounds naff but nonetheless is how I feel)
2) The Japanese buckets: I am not sure if these are Japanese but they remind me a lot of some of the boats my brother rode in whilst living near Osaka.  Soaking in one of these is a highly sought after position, being only 3 in number.  Speaking of positions, I think we found that the best way to sit in these is to leave feat dangling outside, so that maximum torso is covered in the 34 degree or so water.
3) Some very strange rock pools that I have yet to sit in, but I think The Sage had a crack at them. Everyone looked very uncomfortable in them.
4) The only spa with the jets in it: people seem to dig these, which are of the shallow-lie down variety: so essentially your top side is not covered in water.  I’m not really a jets kind of guy, so this shallowness and the absence of other jet pools bothers me not.  But if I were, this would be one of the very few criticisms of the PHS.  But judging by the faces of many an elderly couple rocking out with some serious good time vibes, this spa is aallllllright.
5) There are still some other pools within this first vista which I have not tried: and don’t that say somethin?

Proceeding past these, shit gets serious as the rest of the waterbodies are a slow journey up the hill.  First time here, we hit these bodies with the cool calm and linear exploration of a toursist. Second time round, The Sage and I had our own methods and were beginnig to turn pro.

Before proceeding up hill, one notices a few things.  The reed swamped lake surrounded by deck chairs and primed for full time sunning- we have yet to hit this position up due to some renovations going on.  Passing this is the reflexology walk- a just-above-ankle deep, warm circular path stoned with rocks of varying type. Let’s say approximately 7 different patterns.  This is the shizzle, so much so that my dream house that I will never build is now moated in my mind with one of these paths all the way around it.  Like a gym for the soles of your feet.

Climbing up a few stairs, one has to make a tough decision: hammam, sauna, alcove bath or keep climbing the molehill of baths.  And, not that I knew it then but speaking from experience now, the showers. OMG the showers!!!

See the thing about the showers, besides having these cute smooth rock handles, is that you have two choices of shower (stream or sprayed), there are two lil stools you can sit on, and the water can become hotter or colder than you’d ever need it be.  I think of these as the PHS’ Joe Pesci: sure, he’ll never be the head of the Mafia, but he will be there to get the job done when it needs to be done.    They’re small, aggressive, and aren’t headliners: everybody loves ’em but doesn’t really talk about them. Talk about Joe Pesci more damn it!

It was in the alcove bath (aka Dennis Ferina), which would be amazing at night, that I became aware of the amount of big boobied ladies (actually, girlies) at the PHS.  This is something of particular import to the plunge pool, which we’ll come to later.  The Sage confirmed this and I like to think of a lady’s perspective as more valid in this regard (i.e not blinded by desire).  The alcove bath itself is a bit tepid, so to get most out of it you’d have to time it well between sweats and what not.

(I just noticed how much this review has become a bit of a blow by blow…..so be it)

The hammam and the sauna are both tricky ones and one can seriously rock out in them or be frustrated by the actions of others.  Having never been to a hamman before, I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect, but let it be said we were not going for the full treatment and massage that the PHS offers as a higher price. First time round, The Sage and I had the shit nailed.  The soft hissing  of regular steam and the moments of silence in between…. that was a good’un. Having the hammam more or less to ourselves for the best part of half an hour, we took centre stage and laid on the hexagonal block in the middle (NB: need to find out if this block is for massages, something else or exactly what we were doing).  I had a lot of fun just dripping and puring water onto the floor, throwing it against the walls, and playing with the echoes of this dome.  The Sage pretty much went into a coma while I did this, and yes, the atmosphere gets pretty dreamy in there.  At first I thought it was a bit cold: I’d guess it was about 60 degrees.  But with few entries and exits, it gets just right.  But, and here’s the kicker, on a busy Sunday afternoon, with young girls going in and out every two minutes and chatterboxing left, right and centre, the hammam gets both chaotic and a bit chilly. In another word, shit.  It;s all about timing with this one. When The Sage asked some Turkish girls about the existence of another hammam closer to Melbourne, they responded to her with a very dubious “no”.  A friend of hers is currently on the case.

The circular sauna (ain’t that a first?) can likewise be tricky: waiting for people to leave so that you can crank the stove can take a while, and again the constant door opening can really suck the life outta there.  It’s probably maintained at about 65-70 degrees.  First time round, I admit I didn’t get much love from this. Second time, we burned it down.  Not literally of course.  But the only other person in there was just waiting fort someone to drown that stove and drown we did.  With three levels to sit on (one of my golden rules from now on) it was the sssssssssssshit. Waiting for people to leave though, or finding out that people you had racially stereotyped incorrectly as not being able to read the English ‘no pour water blah blah blah’ sign, can be a bit of a pain in the ass.  Which is why having Joe Pesci at your side is important.  For when the sauna, aka Robert De Niro, won’t take the lead out.   Jo Pesci is also colder than the plunge pool, which is great to have, especially since, well, I don’t think you have to be a pervert to like seeing large breasted women jump in and out of a plunge pool, but it probably helps.  I’d hazard a guess that this pool is at about 15 degrees, but the 8 degree icepool at the Virgin Active has spoilt me on this one.  A final thought about the hammam and the sauna: with such frequent entries and exits, there really needs to be a heated middle/transition room, and there might even be the space for such a renovation. This is one of the few gripes with the PHS that I’d take seriously. Oh, on my second visit The Sage brought a friend who I will call the Evacuator:  mid-sauna, she mentioned that she might have syphilis.  The sauna was relatively empty at the time, but it got me wondering: are there questions and conversation topics that can clear a sauna without being passive-aggressive and/or rude?

I have lost count how many baths are on the way to the summit.  I’d say around 8.  I have only been in two or three of them though, and I think many people hold the illusion of logic that the summit spa is the hottest.  The others are like Ray Liotta (so it seems I have got Scorcese on my mind): lovely, part of a back up plan and great in an ensemble, but not something you really talk about that much.  If the summit spa and hottest spa are full, then you’d go wait in these.  But one of the beautiful things about PHS is that people always seem to make room. Or that I follow the modus operandi set by a bunch of yakuza WAGS.

The summit spa is set to about 38-40 degrees, overlooks the surrounding vineyards and rolling hills, and is the shit (you can have more than one “shit”, right?).  Obviously, people prefer to come up here for sunset, so there can be a bit of queue. You can see people standing around, wondering if they can fit.  On our first visit, there would have been about 12  people in there and judging by the couples wrapped in towels near the approaching stairs, it had been decided that no more can fit.  Try telling that to a group of 7 Japanese women who looked like they’d make juggling balls out of Takeshi Kitano’s gazoombas. They sauntered in, formed file, each one sat amongst an other’s knees and essentially owned the joint.  The ringleader assumed a pose that Kitano himself pulls from time to time, and you would just have to bow down (oh wow, now that’s a shit accidental pun) and admit that some cultures have soaking in their blood and some don’t.  Mine does not, as exemplified by the frequency with which women could be heard saying “If only I had a glass of wine…”.  Nonetheless, the summit spa is the bees knees.  I must have spent a solid 30 minutes with my head on the bricks staring into the vinyards, thinking about The Shining, listening to the mooing of cows and watching the sky change colour.  The scene up there can get a bit couply, all the more reason to welcome these and only these WAGS.  It’d be great if there was a bathroom up this high, as I don’t share The Sage’s attitude towards ‘heating water up the ol’ fashioned way’, but this aint a serious criticism.

Finally, we come to the hottest bath at 40-42 degrees.  This bath is a level or two down and can probably hold a maximum of six people.  It was only on my second visit that this bath really worked for me.  It was approaching 7.00pm, and I had been told by my ride that it was almost time to leave. I said that I would go up to The Hottest (aka The Pacino) and joked that I would hide from them like a boy not wanting to come inside for dinner.  It turns outs this is exactly what I would do. It was nearing dark when I entered the Pacino, with only three other people in.  The night lamps had come on, and yes, you got it, the vibe was aaaaaaalllllllright.  There was a young pretty thing sitting on the outside in glamour mode, and a bald man ever so slowly trying to chat her up.  I had my eyes closed, partially because I didn’t want to witness this car crash.  She had a nice voice, and he wasn’t totally sleazy, but after three guesses  as to what her occupation was (not to mention failing to guess her origins from Hong Kong) I had to pipe up and correctly guess that she was a teacher.  So I had intruded in on his game but, pick up or not, I couldn’t just sit there and wait for more crashes to happen. So she and I talked shop and when I could tell that damage had been avoided (after 20 minutes of soaking I was getting quite heated) I excused myself and sat on the nearby deckchairs, heart slowing down in a cool night breeze, staying very still and hoping that the Evacuator didn’t find me as she walked past to tell me that they were 100% prepared and ready to leave….. the spot had been hit one last time and yes, I was almost ready to go.  I jumped back in once more, told the others that I was hiding and alas, The Sage found me about ten minutes later.  Now I was ready to leave.

Showers, beer, a few more dolmade in ryvita sandwiches and the ride home.  We have decided that every fourth Sunday is Hot Spring day, and we are getting better at it.  Remember the grapes, dolmades, rice crackers, cucumbers (take salt with you as the cafe only has one shaker, and were it not for The Sage’s boldness in borrowing said shaker for half an hour, our ‘cumbers would not a been salted),  powdered drinks and some dried fruit and you’ll do fine.  Next time down we are going to try the PHS at night, but that could make the drive home a lil torturous.  We are getting better at this: being able to know how to proper utilise Pesci and co. is something of a skill, and I don’t call this place Scorchese for nuthin. I probably should have mentioned that entry is a thoroughly reasonable 30 clams, it really is best to book in advance, the cafe is open late (not that I’ve used it), the staff there are near invisible and are dressed in a baby blue shirts and mocha fisherman pants, the Mornington Brewery is about 20 minutes away (and don’t they just do a fine beverage or two), there is free sunscreen, robe hire is cheap (but again we haven’t tried), and, oh yes, of course, they are open from 7 am til 10pm 354 days a year.  Even Charlie Sheen doesn’t win like that.

I apologise for switching metaphors from Costner to Martin Scorcese’s dark knights, but can you blame me?

The Scorchese up against the Bennett’s Board of Bastu Justice: (I might need a different scale for waterworlds such as the PHS, in so far as I am using it for the whole venue and not just for the sauna, but for now it will have to do)

The Heat Is On/15                             11
Space is the place/5                         5
I Heard it On the Grapevine/10        8
Release /10                                        6
Fresh  /10                                           10
I Get Wet /10                                      10
Ride the Lightning /10                      7
The Price of Love /5                          4
Easy like a Sunday morning /5        4
Boom boom shake shake the room  /10    8 
How Love Feels /10                           8

Overall proximity to boiling point     81 /100

Yep, high distinction for the Scorchese!

Peninsula Hot Springs

Peninsula Hot Springs
Springs Lane (formerly Devonport Drive)
Fingal (Rye), 3939
Mornington Peninsula
Victoria, Australia

Tel: 03-5950-8777
Int: +61-3-5950-8777
http://www.peninsulahotsprings.com