One Saturday, after two rather riotous nights (Friday had been a holiday), all parties agreed an afternoon of regeneration was in order. The method was the only dispute. Typically, we’d probably each simply stay home, play video games, read and eat comfort food without leaving our pajamas. But we could have done those things anywhere and at any time. Korea was calling.

According to at least one guidebook on the Land of the Morning Calm, one hasn’t truly experienced South Korea until he/she has ventured into the public bathhouse. I spent my previous post describing some of the culture and background surrounding the spa/bathhouse phenomenon, so I won’t do that here. This post is the story of my first visit to the nude, aquatic-relaxation center.

Danny, Brandon and I had been discussing bathhouses since our arrival in Busan. They’re integral to Korean life and are literally everywhere. But there was the obvious hesitation, largely if not solely, because it’d require dropping trou. The fear stemmed not so much from nudity in the presence of strangers, but in front of one another. I believe there’s modesty among male friends unique among my generation.

Personal note:
Not to minimize my friends’ reticence in matters of the flesh, but I found myself far less apprehensive in this regard than either Danny or Brandon. Perhaps it was my rather socially liberal upbringing (at least rhetorically so) that numbed my sense of shame. Anyone who knows Danny, Brandon and me would probably agree they are much closer to the social-modesty norm of boys our age than I.

Back to the story:
After a morning of instant messages, the stink and dehydration of a long weekend overcame the fear of male nudity and Danny and I settled on venturing to Taejondae Spa on Yeongdo Island, probably a mile from his apartment. Brandon did not join us this time, but would when we returned later in the week.

Just up until we walked through the massive entrance, it was difficult to determine that the Taejondae spa was in fact, the Taejondae spa. The massive building looked more like a small convention center than a spa and in front was arguably the largest parking lot I’ve seen in Korea.

The entrance was bustling with adults and kids coming and going, looking weary or refreshed accordingly. In exchange for a mere 7,000 won (approximately $5USD) she gave us each set of cotton pajamas and a numbered locker key and pointed us stage left – women were sent to her right.

Just outside the locker room was a small man on a stool, polishing some men’s dress shoes. Since Danny and I were both wearing sandals, there was little he could do for us, other than bark when we forgot to remove said sandals when walking onto the hardwood floors.
The first thing inside was a small convenience store stand selling everything from hard-boiled eggs and juice to fresh undershirts and socks. Danny and I moved across the room to our joint lockers. We opened them, perhaps half expecting to find some English language Blue’s Clue as to our next step. Everyone else in the room seemed to know what they were doing and where they were going. Beyond getting to our lockers, we were lost.

Not particularly anxious to disrobe, we tried exploring. But before we could walk through even a single set of doors, a man stopped us, pointed us back to our lockers motioning that we needed to remove our garments. Resigned, we turned back and upon reaching our lockers and began the process, giving each other one last look before removing our final coverings, just to make certain the other was still in on the pact.

Eventually we found our way out of the locker room and into the main bathing area. The room was a sight to behold with half a dozen pools, just as many sauna rooms and an enormous skylight. Again, I won’t go into too many details of the components of the bathhouse as I did in my previous post on the topic.

Danny and I entered the first pool in the room that we agreed was probably a warm-up pool. Just around 40° Celsius, the pool was comfy, warm but not hot or scalding. After soaking that in for a while we moved to the ‘health pool’ where a variety of different stations provide jets of water that blast your body’s aches and pains from all different directions.

We tried each of the pools, except for the ice cold one. We did go back and brave that one when we returned later in the week with Brandon. While each pool was relaxing and wonderful, the general atmosphere was less so this particular Sunday. Children ran through across the deck and cannonballed into the pools, splashing and generally roughhousing their friends. Our return visit in the middle of the week was far quieter. One interesting note, there were young children and adults from about age 20 to 90 in the bathhouse, but not one apparent teen.

Eventually we showered and retired back to the locker rooms to put on our comfy cotton robes. Venturing upstairs, we entered the massive co-ed hall where couples and families reunited. There were more saunas in the form of stone igloos. There was a Korean mini-restaurant selling gimbap and more hardboiled eggs. There was a sleeping room, an empty cove with dim lights and white noise where folks sprawled out and napped. Danny and I enjoyed that for at least thirty minutes.

For one last hurrah before we left, we sought out the masseuses. For 30,000W apiece, Danny and I each received extensive back massages that freed all types of muscles. These ladies knew how to pull on one arm or hand to get under and around knots are really break them up. There wasn’t any funny business, just a really fantastic massage.

And then it was over. Danny and I walked back up the island’s main drag to his apartment, ready for another night on the town.

In a lot of ways, Koreans are far more reserved than your average westerner. Adults and teens dress relatively conservatively compared to their counterparts in the U.S. Couples rarely if ever display affection publicly, even a boy and girl holding hands on the street is noteworthy.

But despite this seeming sexual repression, Koreans are open and upfront with at least one thing that makes most ex-pats blush from head to toe, and ironically the act lets one see every inch of that full-body blush manifest.

On almost any street in Busan you can find buildings with towering blue smoke stacks and adorned with a small red symbol that resembles a bowl holding three flames. These are the universal signs of the inexplicably popular public bathhouses – spas of varying opulence with hot tubs, saunas and a host of other amenities. From everything I’ve heard, read and learned since coming to Korea, the public bath is the thing to do for young and old alike in Korea. Parents take their kids, friends from work and school to together or one goes alone looking for some time to relax and perhaps meet a new acquaintance.

It all sounds normal enough, just like going to the mall perhaps or the beach. The only difference is that here everyone is naked, starkly and comfortably naked. In a recent New York Times travel article about the bathhouse phenomenon in Korea, one Korean man explains, “We don’t consider someone a real friend until we take a bath together.” Please check out the full article here, www.nytimes.com/2008/10/05/.

But the bathhouse experience gets stranger. Same sex friends of all ages (kids, teens and adults) hold hands and lead each other around like married couples. Small children perform all the horseplay one would expect from kids in a pool, with birthday suits in place of bathing suits. Sons help scrub their fathers’ backs and other hard to reach places as they shower together.

It is very important to point out that these activities are in no way seen as sexual, much less homosexual, in any way for that matter. Koreans of the same gender often hold hands while walking through the streets or school halls. While seemingly cold to members of the opposite sex, same-sex friends often share a physical closeness I’ve rarely seen in America. But it is never sexual.

Personal Note:
I feel guilty talking about the nudity and strangeness of the bathhouse. The frequency with which expats bemoan the terror of getting naked is telling of our general prudishness. If anything, I admire Koreans’ comfort with their bodies and the absence of the homophobia that is an accepted norm in America. If anything, readers should look to stories about bathhouses not as spectacles of a bizarre culture, but rather a shining example of the freedom shedding preconceived notions of shame (as well as one’s clothes) can provide.

Back to the background:
While bathhouses differ in size and amenities, the basic principle is the same; a public space where strangers and friends gather to clean up and relax. There are rows of showers to use, some patrons choose to use them in the traditional standing mode and others use small plastic stool to sit as they shampoo, shave, and general wipe the grim of the day away. From what I’ve heard, they almost all have at least one hot tub for soaking and one icy-cold tub to cool off. And most bathhouses have at least one sauna or steam room that gives patrons a number of ways to shock their body’s temperature in cruel ways.

These are only the basics. The higher end public bathhouses offer special baths with jasmine infused water, mud baths, natural springs, massage therapy, special “sleeping rooms” with heated floors and white noise machines and much more. They are palaces of excess designed to inspire the utmost relaxation-induced pleasure. Here in Busan is Asia’s largest bathhouse that boasts more than three hundred different baths.

This is the first in a two-part series. Last weekend, my friend Danny and I went to the spa in Taejongdae Spa together for the first time. Later in the week we returned with our friend Brandon. Check back here soon for a full report.