Everything does shut down here for Easter, but luckily the uber-modern spa down the street was still open on my birthday. So, I decided to get a birthday massage. I was instructed to take a shower in their plush digs, (“You must be clean!”–that’s my thought bubble not an actual quote) before getting my rubdown
Once clean and in the massage room, I was greeted by a Big German man who I will call Big German. And this is where my dilemma began. Nakedness is different in Germany. Men and women sit bare-skinned together in the sauna. Parents and teenage children saunter naked together on the beach, etc. etc. I asked my Big German masseuse where to put my robe. He shrugged and pointed to a chair across the room. Now, walking across the room naked (and this was a big room) seemed too much for my American puritan blood. Instead, I sort of slid under the sheet and handed him my robe. This confused the Big German.
It took me months to get used to the co-ed naked saunas. But the cold weather and desperate need for heat finally allowed me to shed some of my fears. I can only hope that I will have enough opportunities on the massage table that this too shall pass.
– Debbie
