I'm not particularly body conscious but I have never, ever worn a bikini in Goa. So you'd assume naturally that visiting nudist baths would get my alarm bells ringing. But when I got the chance to visit a medicinal thermal water spa in Germany, I never considered nudity to be a problem. I thought of it as something similar to stripping off in a locker room, where people go around minding their own business—or so I hoped.

Last year, I went to Baden Baden, a posh spa town just an hour's train ride from Frankfurt (where I was staying). It's so conveniently located that eventually I literally just visited the town for a bath and came back to the city in the afternoon. Germans, like all Europeans, really do enjoy their baths and steam rooms. There's always a sauna at their yoga studios, which, by the way, are also welcoming of both sexes. I'm pretty middle class that way, so I did get bewildered by the German enthusiasm to shed clothes and carry on their activities with that cool, Teutonic efficiency. But I digress.

Friedrichsbad are ancient Irish Roman baths in Baden Baden that date back to 1877. Built in Neo-Renaissance style, these are one of the most luxurious baths in Europe. There are several rooms ranging from dry heat chambers to warm baths and chilled plunge pools. You have the option of going for just the baths which would be about 25 euros, with brush massage (35 euros) and a cream massage (45 euros). The cream massage is useless and there could be a chance you may get a male masseur, so unless you don't mind a strange man's hands on your back, this one is best avoided. You don't need an appointment. You buy your ticket, go in, shed your clothes and wear a thin white sheet, your only shred of dignity. Nudity is non-negotiable, so with a fair amount of trepidation, I tightened my sheet around me and walked straight in.

“Then, when your insides feel like they've melted, you went into another dry room that's so hot, it felt like a blowtorch”

The first thing I saw were two men flying towards me from opposite directions like torpedoes, fresh after a swim. In situations like these, you realise it's impossible to stop your eyes from meandering where they shouldn't, but you catch yourself just in time to feign innocence. Look at anything, the ceiling, the walls—just act normal. “This is cool,” I said to myself. “You're an urban sophisticate. Behave like you've done this before.” That room was only the beginning. Step one: shower. Was I supposed to shower in an open hall with two naked men? Thankfully, they bathed at a fair distance. I pretended to read the instructions for a bit, but soon convinced myself to shed my inhibitions. I dropped the sheet and melted into the methodical decadence of Friedrichsbad. I carried my sheet to room two—where they focused on dry heat—and laid it on a wooden lounger. This space came tiled with mosaic, stained glass and classical Roman statues. But even then, the hedonism was kept under control with small touches that remind that you're still in Germany. Every room has a clock with clear instructions on how many minutes should you stay in any room, no dithering or hanging about. The shower was three minutes long, and this was 15 minutes. Then, when your insides feel like they've melted, you went into another dry room that's so hot, it felt like a blowtorch.

Your head starts to feel woozy after you spend 20 minutes in dry heat. So a soap and brush rub-down seems like the best idea when you walk into the massage area. Again, you could either get a male or female therapist here, but it's not uncomfortable. My therapist asked me about the pressure (soft or hard) I'd prefer—I went with ‘hard'—and pulled out a brush that would be best used on a rhino. Rub, rub, rub, scratch, scratch, scratch... my skin felt like it was shedding in translucent layers. A no-nonsense smack on the bottom and a quick “turn” followed suit. While the hard brush felt abrasive, I have to say that it really did stimulate the skin. I felt quite tingly after another shower, because the blood circulation had amplified. Next step, damp heat.

“I walked in girding my loins mulabandha tight, sent out a prayer and dove straight in—GAH”

Theirs is the oldest steam room in the world, which is still powered by natural thermal waters. Right behind Friedrichsbad is the Fentequelle, an ancient drinking water fountain. The water isn't allowed for drinking now, but I filled a glass bottle to wash my face. Just using the water to cleanse makes skin extremely calm, like you've had 10 hours of sleep. So you can imagine how delicious the room feels when that medicinal, healing steam seeps into your pores. I was lucky that there were only a couple of men in the spa that day because the football World Cup was on. Separate days (when entry is restricted to women) are only twice a week, and the women's side doesn't include the beautiful cold pool that is placed under a dome right at the end. I'd prefer going on the separate days, but if you're only there for three days, you must drop your inhibitions and bathe everyday.

German men are very polite. When one was going past me towards the warm pool, he politely covered his modesty with the minuscule seat/towel used in the steam room. Sweet, I like manners. You're allowed a leisurely 25 minutes in the warm pool. I floated on my back luxuriating in the feel of warm water on bare skin. The room was white with ivory statues and stained glass ventilation windows. By this time nudity lay forgotten, along with the sheet I'd left somewhere. Feeling liberated and free, I walked next into a warm jacuzzi area, where I stayed for 15 minutes. The German women with me kept a strict watch on the time, walking out precisely before the last second passed.

After this, you finally reach the grand ballroom of baths. Cool water, terracotta walls, tiny stained glass windows and gilded statues going up a dome to the sunroof. Despite how refreshed you feel now, nothing prepares you for the last step—the cold plunge, icy and hard, like the the Miranda Priestly of pools. I walked in girding my loins mulabandha tight, sent out a prayer and dove straight in—GAH. In about 10 seconds the water started feeling sort of normal. Thankfully this was for just three minutes. I finished a minute and got out.

“Corners tucked into the centre and head propped on a pillow, you settle in for the sweetest nap breathing in the fresh mountain air”

From here began my favourite part: a short tryst with hot towels, followed by the recovery room where you lay down on warm sheets that wrap you up like a samosa. Corners tucked into the centre and head propped on a pillow, you settle in for the sweetest nap breathing in the fresh mountain air. You can then finish at the tea room in the spa, but if you're like me, you'd head straight to Cafe Konig for a thick slice of their original Bavarian Black Forest cake, layered with booze, cream and cherries. The cafe was a favourite with Tolstoy and Dostoevsky, and is only one of the many luxurious places Baden Baden offers. The Faberge Museum, for example, holds Maharaja Ranjit Singh's 500-piece gold dinner service, or you can even take a trip to Casino Baden Baden, which the iconic 18th-century German-American actor, Marlene Dietrich, called the most beautiful casino in the world.

Having spent many months in Germany last year, Friedrichsbad became a habit. I'd go there every week for a dip. It healed my skin, soothed my joints and calmed my mind. I still wouldn't wear a bikini in Goa, but in the cool, medicinal surroundings of those Roman baths, I'd happily strip off in a second.

Vasudha Rai has been writing on beauty and wellness for more than 15 years. She's the author of Glow: Indian Foods, Recipes and Rituals for Beauty Inside and Out, and blogs regularly on vbeauty.co

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