Sunday, 29 May 2022

De luxe

"Imagine there's no countries," sang John Lennon, referring to the ease of cross border train travel in continental Europe. It turns out that, after the madness of our Brexit-fueled visa bureaucracy, its easy to jump on a train in Brussels and go anywhere you want.

Taking advantage, we stuck a pin into a map. It landed in the middle of the ocean, which wasn't much help. After several more attempts, it stuck in Luxembourg!

I've never been to Luxembourg, but it's conveniently south of Belgium and - more importantly - a return train ticket is only €20. They speak French, and also Luxembourgish which amazingly is available on Google Translate. It's a country that has always punched above its weight, even ruling the Holy Roman Empire for a bit, and it now houses several EU institutions. In short, the capital Luxembourg City is the perfect destination for a weekend jaunt.

First impressions were of a compact but standard European capital: old buildings, free trams, nice food, clean streets, clueless tourists wandering around taking photos. But further exploration revealed that the place has some crazy geography, the city built around a vertiginous ravine full of staircases, bridges, and ancient fortifications. It's like wandering around an Escher painting; you can see where you want to go, but have no idea how to get there. They also have various lifts and funiculars to help out and further confuse the weary.

Of more interest to Pete was the best donut shop he's encountered outside of Houston, and a cat cafe where semi-feral felines beg for the crumbs off your plate. One vomited on Pete, so he got his hot chocolate for free.

Soon we were back on the train, chugging home to Brussels as the landscape flattened to green fields. Like a slightly less violent game of Risk, we're slowly conquering one European country at a time. "Ech hätt gär zwee Béier an e Pak Erdnuss, wann ech glift," as they say in Luxembourgish.


Arriving in the beautiful green surroundings of Luxembourg City.


And quickly finding food.


Personally, I would build my castle on top of a hill instead of the bottom of a gorge. But what do I know?


Can't get there from here.


Trapped!


Fancy lunch.


Followed by fancy donuts.


And a cat cafe.


What could possibly go wrong when mixing hairballs with croissants?




And at the bottom.


More surreal architecture in the Mudam art museum.


Some snacks for the way home.

Saturday, 21 May 2022

Aufguss

Sometimes you find yourself in a situation so odd, so unbelievable, so gosh-darn European, that you just have to hold on, wonder at the things happening around you, and hope you'll make it out with your dignity intact.

Such were my thoughts as Hannah and I sat stark naked with 40 strangers in a sauna, watching the "sauna master" re-enact a helicopter crash, in an artistic performance known as aufguss.

My path to this situation was more-or-less uneventful. Pete's school generously took all the kids to the Belgian coast for a week of activities and, because we knew we'd worry about him so much, Hannah booked us into a nearby spa for a couple of days. You know, for our own mental wellbeing.

The place is HUGE, and handily divided into clothed and unclothed sections. I threw off my garments, together with my English prudishness from a lifetime watching Benny Hill and Carry On films, and was soon soaking in salt pools and steaming in hammams without a stitch on, and very happy about it.

The place also has saunas - many, many saunas - starting with the "light" 60C of the Bio Sauna, through the 60-80C of the wood-fired Maa Sauna, up to the 90C Finnish Sauna ("not to be missed" says the website, massively overestimating my weak British constitution).

Most intriguing was the Event Sauna (80C/175F), a space that claimed it could accommodate 130 sweaty people along both sides of its central plinth of hot rocks. We poked our noses in, and it was indeed very large and empty, but what kinds of events took place here?

The mind did not have to boggle long as we soon spotted a timetable listing a "theme sauna" in 10 minutes, so went to join a (clothed in swimsuits) queue to see what was happening. A helpful lady explained everything to the crowd in Dutch and French, which meant I understood nothing, and soon we were ushered onto the scorching wooden benches.

The doors closed, the lights dimmed, soft music began playing, and as if by magic the aufgussmeister appeared. He ceremoniously ladled water onto the hot rocks, then dropped on some ice balls infused with various things like eucalyptus and lime. After these began to melt he grabbed a towel and started swinging it around, spreading the smells and pulling the hot air down from the ceiling onto those of us who sensibly sat on the lower, cooler tiers.

This happened two more times with different smells, with the sauna master grabbing a huge fan out of somewhere to do the towel's work. Just as I thought I might dissolve in my own sweat, the doors were opened for a blast of wonderful cold air, before being shut for the finale: tons of superheated humid air, wafted around to Phil Collins's "In The Air Tonight".

It was quite something, I reflected as I reclined in a swimming pool, attempting to get my body temperature back within operable limits. There were signs around advertising the Belgian Aufguss Championships, happening this weekend, and that some competitors were dress-rehearsing their sauna mastery that afternoon. "Let's do it!" said my always-more-adventurous wife.

So, a few hours later, we were back for our second ever aufguss. This one was different from the start. Firstly, we were all naked. Well, almost. I observed there's such a thing as a sauna hat, which protects your head from the heat (the rest of your body is unimportant) and now I need one so people look at me and think "Wow, that guy knows how to sauna!" Secondly, there were flags and banners hanging in the sauna of a helicopter crew, and something about coastguard rescue. Finally, there was the mild smell of motor oil in the air.

Once again, the lights dimmed and the sauna master arrived - not in a towel like the previous guy, but dressed in a helicopter flight suit. Including boots!! No standard aufguss this, it was a full-on one-man show. Flashing lights, sound effects, fake radio messages in-between the music tracks, all while ladling water and aromatherapy ice onto the rocks as we sat shoulder-to-shoulder naked and perspiring profusely. The story he was telling, as far as I could make out, was about a helicopter crash that made him resign his commission, before he was invited back to command the coast guard unit. All through the medium of sauna.

It was...is impressive the word? This man could swing two towels at once, like those pizza chefs do with their dough. He spoke dramatically, he emoted furiously, and it all finished with "Survivor" by Destiny's Child pumping over the sauna speakers. Subtle? No. After the performance he was outside, flight suit stripped off and chugging water. He looked rather cooked.

Having dunked a bucket of cold water over myself, I once again floated in a salt pool, untethered from gravity and possibly sanity, trying to find the correct space in my mind to file away "naked helicopter crash sauna aromatherapy experience". Nope, I had nothing, so started a new folder titled "aufguss" and locked the memory in there, ready to pull out when someone asks "So what did you get up to in Belgium?"

[Note: sadly, naked spas do not allow photography, even when I demanded "Do you know who I am?!" Please accept these stock images.]


The Event Sauna. It was certainly that.


The heart of aufguss: wooden ladles and aromatherapy ice balls.


Much towel swinging.


Sauna hats!


Less accomplished sauna masters may use a fan. Multiple sizes available.


Or a flag. Also: a sauna with a throne! When can we book in?