This blogging every day thing is friggin exhausting. Think I'm officially moving it to every other day. I mean, as much as I'd like to think this is happening, no one has bought front row seats to my website, waiting with bated breath for the newly published post, and then cursing and throwing tomatoes at their Lenovo Yoga 700 when nothing shows up at the regularly scheduled posting time. (But, wait. ARE you?!)
I went to bed at 5:30 AM on Monday night/Tuesday morning. And not cause I was doing anything 5:30 AM-worthy. Cause I was amped up from blog-writing and then wanted to get more shizz done. Hence why the every-other-day schedule has commenced.
I think this 30 days of yoga thing might actually happen. I mean who doesn't have 30 minutes to do some stretching and breathing--we're already doing half of those things without trying anyways. I can give up my dedicated time on Facebook looking at puppy videos and instead raise my vibes with some sweet yoga moves. And plus, Adriene is freaking cool. I reaaaaaaaaally wanna hang out with her. She's all, "we're not here to do yoga." Music to my ears.
It's now my 2nd day of the yoga, and I feel fan-flipping-tastic. Proud and limber. I'm ready to bathe.
It is THE most beautiful, warm Spring day today, and I decide to skip on over to a new bath called Rudas.
I see this one the way. Can you say #GOT?!
Ladies and gentleman, I present to you ...
THE HOLY GRAIL OF BATHS.
Why. Why. WHYYYYYYY did I not discover this sooner?!?! (Divine timing, divine timing, divine timing ... ahhhhhhh shut up, Universe!)
It is classy, clean, and QUIET.
I get my OWN CHANGING CABIN FOR FREE.
THERE ARE NO MEN THERE!!!!!!!!!!! NO MEN ON TUESDAYS!!!!!!!!!!
The goddesses roam free, and I seriously feel like I'm reenacting a scene from Roman times.
I can't believe I picked the perfect day to check this place out. However, although no men are allowed on Tuesdays, no women are allowed on Mondays, Wednesdays, Thursdays ORRRR Fridays. WTF. We need to work on the equal rights, Hungary.
As much as I should have expected it, I am shocked when confronted with my first bare-boobed group. Like, I almost have the instinct to throw my towel to one of them. But then I remember, NO MEN. Why don't more places in the world offer this? (I LOVE YOU, MEN. But not having you here is AMAZING.)
We aren't supposed to take photos inside the baths--since nudity abounds, of course--though a few young female tourists break the rules unwittingly. But just imagine a Roman goddess paradise, and that's what it looked like inside.
Funnily enough, for the past 3 weeks of being at Gellert, I thought I was drinking curative water from the drinking fountain, but I, in fact, was NOT. How do I know this? Because the drinking water here smells and tastes like rotten eggs. It's the stuff I should have been drinking. Oops. (Universe, you were looking out for me, weren't ya?)
I get hungry in the middle of my bathing experience, and Planner-manda smartly packed a little to-go snack. LEAVES. I ate them in the private cabin, sprinkled with herbamare, nutritional yeast and olive oil.
Upon conclusion of my blissfully leisure-filled goddess bathing, I make the trek up to the Citadella to see the sunset. It's supposed to have the most breaktaking views of anywhere in the city.
Of course, I don't factor in that I would be carrying THE heaviest bag on the planet, weighted down with sopping wet towels and clothes. So what should've taken me 15 minutes to walk up, took me about 30 minutes, and I seriously thought about crawling at one point.
BUT, I make it. And it is worth all the sulphur-infused blood, sweat, and tears I shed on the way up.
Budapest is crazy romantic. It's almost a sin to spend a month here single.
So, of course, I take myself out for a romantic dinner at Borsso Bistro, and I loved it. Everything is perfect. More chef's surprises--both in the beginning AND at the end, excellent food, tastiest chocolate mousse, and a lovely white wine. While this is not cleansing material, I'm doing my best to strike a balance between staying true to my mission and exploring this amazing city. So far, I feel good about it. If I were to do it again, I'd probably pick a thermal bath in a boring location so the only activities that I can engage in are reading, writing, walking, cooking and sleeping. That way, it would be far easier not to get distracted by shiny things.
I crash early Tuesday night--1:30 AM--and wake up at 10:30 AM today!
Today is another new bath. Kiraly.
Kiraly is the authentic live-like-a-local experience. It's more off the beaten path than the other baths, and it is also the least expensive of them.
More than half of the patrons are elders, and I get the sense I'm spoiling their sacred weekday ritual; they all know each other and spend hours chatting it up in the various pools.
I think this one might be my favorite. I feel like I am in a secret underground bath dungeon; there are peeling stone walls, it's dark and dingy, there's barely anyone there so I luxuriate in pools all by myself, and--dear Goddess--it's QUIET.
UNTIL ... a trio of young American girls shows up cackling and cawing about a bunch of dumb shit that matters to no one. RESPECT YOUR ELDERS, LADIES.
That's my cue to exit.
And, boy, am I glad I leave when I do. I manage to capture this insane pic right before the rains fall.
I have a couple coaching calls scheduled, and I think about seeing a Hungarian folk dancing show tonight. But, then the thunderstorms begin, and I take that as another cue to stay home and hibernate. I'm taking a very special excursion tomorrow, so I need my beauty rest ...