Dispatch from Budapest, Hungary - Hanging Out at The Gellert

Greetings from Budapest. I'm here for the first time and am staying at the world famous Hotel Gellert and Spa. 

This grande dame of a hotel has loads of character. It is housed in a beautiful Art-Nouveau building along the Danube on the "Buda" side of the city. And the spa with it's thermal baths is world-renowned.

Source: www.danubiushotels.com

I love grand old hotels that groan with history. The only drawback to staying at these places, is that while the architecture and common areas usually are exquisite and the suites over the top, the regular rooms tend to range widely in size and decor from the sublime to the ridiculous. I've booked a "single" room, which in Euro-speak usually means a former broom closet. But I'm pleasantly surprised by my room - it is larger than expected and nicely appointed. And the view out the back of the hotel is great. So far, so good.

After exploring the hotel, I get ready for my spa visit. I'm a thermal bath virgin. I've never been and I'm not sure what I am in for. With some trepidation, I head from my room to the spa entrance - an ornate glass and gilt iron facade that houses an antique elevator. I press the button and the cables lurch into action. I hear the whirring as the pulleys lift the car. The iron door clangs open and this elderly lady in a white uniform greets me. She is right out of central casting. She smiles officiously and motions for me to enter the car. After I do, she slams the iron door shut, pulls a lever, and down into the bowels of the hotel we go.

The basement entrance to the spa is a hopeful sign of what's to come - a beautiful Art-Nouveau room clad in blue tiles and mosaics that reminds me of New York's Grand Central Station. From this grand entrance, I head to the men's change room which is nearly empty and kind of dark and spooky. And the attendant is stern. I'm handed a small dish towel contraption with strings that I'm unsure about. Is it a bib? Is it my towel? It can't be. It's too small. And I'm also not sure where to leave my stuff. I put on my bathing suit and leave the dish towel with my other stuff in as secluded a corner as I can find.

I enter the thermal baths. Oh Sweet Baby Cheeses, now I know what the dish towels are for! Guys have them tied around their waist like aprons to cover their kibble and bits. But the sides and back are open. And the thin, white material doesn't really hide anything when it is wet. Gadzooks, are you freaking kidding me?! Oh the humanity!

In my head, I repeat the "When in Rome" mantra over and over and proceed (or maybe my mantra should be "Water Off an Old Duck's Crack"). I step down into the baths and head to a relatively unpopulated area. The water is warm and does feel good, but I don't feel like I am being renewed or am dialing back the age clock. I need to give it more time. Maybe it's the dish towel-clad old dudes that are popping up everywhere in the pool. The towels are bobbing on the surface like jellyfish and under the water there is this reef of wrinkly bits. 

Source: www.danubiushotels.com

I look up to avert my gaze. Wow! The ceiling is gorgeous (even if the people underneath it...not so much). It is vaulted with ornate, colorful blue and gold tiling and mosaics. In fact, the whole room is exquisite. I begin to adjust to the surroundings and appreciate the beauty. Maybe the thermal water is starting to do it's thing. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a flash of color and look over to see a guy my age entering the pool. He does not look like he's from here and also has opted for a bathing suit over the dish towel apron. He looks at me from across the pool, smiles, raises his eyebrows, and rolls his eyes. I smile back. A-ha! I have a partner in crime. So I'm not the only one who thinks this situation is un poco loco.

After awhile in the baths, I've had enough. I head to the stairs leading out of the pool. As I look up to grab the railing, there is this elderly guy bent over, holding the rail, and climbing the stairs ahead of me. And yep, he is wearing one of those aprons. Doh! I won't go into detail of what was greeting me but suffice it to say that the image isn't leaving my brain any time soon. Nasty stuff that.

I decide to check out another area where I see guys going in and out. It looks to be sauna and steam rooms. I open a door to one and find a steam room packed with guys. And I mean packed like sardines. They all look up at me at me so I'm too embarrassed to not go in. I find the one bench that has a bit of room and sit down.

Less than a minute later, two substantial guys come in and, without any hesitation, wedge in on either side of me, the only space in the room, their bare buttocks and hairy thighs pinning me down like a sumo wrestler sitting on a kid. Okay, I'm done. Officially. I wriggle to get up, pop out of the hold, and head for the door. The Gellert Spa experience may be grand but it is also a little bit gross.


Later that evening, I have a fantastic room service meal followed by a night time walk around Budapest. As I walk over the bridge back to the hotel, The Gellert is beautifully lit and looks magical. That night, I sleep like a baby (though I may have had a dream or two about apron-clad wrinkly monsters). The next morning the hotel spoils me with a lavish breakfast buffet.

Hotel Gellert, while I may not think the thermal bath experience magical, as a hotel you most certainly are. Thanks for (most of) the memories.