From Russia with Love

I don’t speak Czech, eat pork, or drink Becherovka. But I do speak spa. And that’s exactly why I headed to Karlovy Vary, a quaint spa city situated in Bohemia, the western part of the Czech Republic. Making my way to Lazne III, I decided it didn’t matter that I couldn’t understand a word anyone was saying because all I needed to do was find “Spa III” and relax.

Twenty minutes later, an elderly woman carrying a stack of white towels shoved one into my chest, and waited for me to undress. With predictable American modesty, I positioned the towel over my private parts as I stripped down, and then waited for my next command. Finally, the spa assistant grabbed my arm, and pulled me in front of a wide wooden door, which I presumed was the sauna. A second later, she opened the door and shoved me in.

The wooden room was dark and hot, so I felt confident that I had guessed right. Slowly, I moved toward the wooden tiers in front of me as my eyes started to adjust. Unfortunately, they adjusted on a naked old man lying on Tier #1.

“Shit,” I squeaked, clutching the towel around my chest as I realized that I had just entered a co-ed spa. Taking a deep breath of hot unisex air, I quickly reminded myself that I was in a new country for new experiences. And this certainly qualified. So, I decided to stay, and open my mind (if not my eyes) to enjoy the life of an elderly Czech person.

Slowly, the heat started to quiet my mind, and I decided that I was proud of myself for staying. For being somewhat “European.” Well, if you ignored the fact that I was still wrapped in a white towel. Without warning, the door to the sauna swung open, and another guest was shoved in. Only this time it was a gorgeous Russian man. Correction: a gorgeous NAKED Russian man.

With a beautiful “hello,” he smirked at the towel covering my body. “Aren’t you hot?” he asked with a soft Russian accent that made me sweat even harder.

“No, I’m American,” I said sounding like a complete idiot. While it had only been two days since I had spoken English to anyone, it appeared I had lost all conversational skills.

Twenty minutes later, my naked Russian man asked me to take a plunge in the cold pool. In my mind, I said yes. I dropped my towel, stood up, and took the plunge with him. In reality, I sat on the second tier of the sauna, and watched my naked Russian man head for the pool, and then disappear. Fortunately, the old man left with him, and for ten hot minutes I got to enjoy spa life without my towel (and only a tiny bit of regret).

Suggested Number of Drinks:


(Translation: three shots of Becherovka)