ShareThisIt is a sign of our harried times that, in order to relieve themselves of the burdens and stresses of modern existence, people will willingly cover themselves in mud.This week, I was one of these people. I recently had the opportunity to experience the fabled mud bath, the most misunderstood of spa treatments, and in the interests of journalistic integrity, I will report my findings to you.In recent years, modern treatments such as facials and chemical peels have taken the spa spotlight. But for those who demand relaxation in the form of several gallons of volcanic glop, only a mud bath will do.The mud bath experience begins with the exchange of your everyday clothing for nothing but a robe. You are led through a labyrinth of hallways meant to discourage second thoughts or potential escape. As you walk, the only thing separating your fellow spa patrons from the sight of your exposed person is the integrity of one robe sealing knot. You are reminded, unpleasantly, of every failed knot tied in your Cub-Scouting career.After several minutes of walking through identical corridors (and possibly some calculated back-tracking for good measure) you are led to the shower. It is important to rinse off before entering the mud bath in order to prevent the mud from getting too dirty.Entrance to the shower is your first opportunity to sheepishly disrobe in front of your unfortunate spa employee/guide. This person is not only paid to lead sheepish disrobed men through the spa, but is tipped as well, earning some of the largest guilt-induced tips in any service profession, making him not all that unfortunate after all.Next you are led to the mud itself. You are assigned your own tub, which you address from one side, carefully hoisting one leg, then the other into the mud. Your unfortunate guide supervises the entire ordeal. Once in the tub you quickly learn one of two important properties of this semi-solid glop - it is actually thick enough to hold an adult male afloat.The mud must, in fact, be raked over your body as you settle in. Your unfortunate guide does the raking, and his tip increases exponentially.Once settled in the mud, you quickly realize its other important property -- it goes everywhere. And by everywhere, I mean eh-very-where. You are left alone to contemplate this fact for a good fifteen minutes.This is where the relaxation comes in. It is, after all, difficult to be anxious when ensconced in a warm cocoon of blissful, mineral-rich volcanic sediment. At least until your nose begins to itch.At the moment that the itch is most unbearable, your guide returns to release you from the muddy clutches. As a cruel joke he invites you to sit up, which is virtually impossible until your arms are excavated. Peeling the mud from your legs you emerge from the vat with a sound not unlike pulling a spoon from day-old oatmeal.You are led to another shower to rinse away residual mud. Special mud toothpicks are provided for your fingernails -- you're on your own for other recessed areas. A soak and a sweat remove other impurities.After it all, you emerge feeling much like a lump of warm volcanic mud. But in the best possible way.(Ben Grabow writes for the young, the urban and the easily amused. Contact him at thinlyread(at)gmail.com.) (Distributed by Scripps Howard News Service, http://www.scrippsnews.com)
A mud bath, with an unfortunate guide and itchy nose
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