A jimjilbang, or traditional Korean bathhouse, offers an inexpensive and luxurious option for anyone interested in a deeply calming spa experience. Grandmothers go, toddlers go, young professionals go. It's a wonderful place for the entire community to celebrate good health; one which might be compared to a top tier American community swimming pool, except separated by gender, located indoors, and enjoyed sans-swimsuits.
On one decidedly overcast and dismal Saturday, three of my friends and I decide to experience it for ourselves. My friend, Brittany, lives near a place called BIG SPO, which looks like a multi-storied shopping center. Following rumors that 'BIG SPO' is simply a misguided romanization of 'Big Spa', we enter the doors and approach the front desk. Some gesturing and shy attempts at pronouncing 'jimjilbang' results in stacks of fresh towels, bracelets with locker keys, and heavy cotton shirts and shorts for each person, all for 7,000 won apiece (a little less than $7.00).
A friendly employee directs us to the locker room, where we change into the baggy cotton outfits that look oddly similar to hospital scrubs. We then proceed to the common area where men, women, and children lounge contentedly, all wearing the matching cotton outfits, eating snacks, watching t.v., and chatting. It's a welcoming, if not unexpected, scene. We wander a bit, enjoying the feel of the heated floors and stepping along a stone pathway intended for foot massage.
Toward the back of the spacious room, a woman opens a tiny door and ducks inside. We follow. Immediately, my feet feel the fire of the smooth, heated rocks that cover the floor. The room itself is toastyhot, quiet, lit with dim lights, and showcases an Egyptian themed mural. With the soft haze of desert pyramids surrounding us, my friends and I lay down our towels and settle comfortably on the heated stones. As we talk quietly, so not to bother the six or so other occupants of the room, three little children approach. They smile, we smile. They sit close to us and chatter softly, occasionally pausing to poke us and say, "Teacher!".
The same scene is repeated as we visit a series of small rooms (curious children included), each one hotter than the last, until we arrive dripping in sweat at a mini igloo room. Welcomed by images of penguins, we happily rest with our feet propped against the walls of ice while our body temperatures return to normal levels. Invigorated, we conclude that it's definitely time for the pools.
At this point, the men and women separate into different rooms. Ciara, Brittany, Justin, and I waltz back into the locker rooms for yet another clothing change... this time with a bit more giggling and statements of "Are we REALLY going through with this?!" We all pause to nervously announce our insecurities ("ughh the sticky rice cakes from the teachers' lounge are going straight to my thighs", "A steady diet of mandoo definitely isn't resulting in a six pack..."), and then drop our towels and step into the chamomile scented wonderland of steaming hot pools.
I think it's fair to say that bodies come in all shapes and sizes. We make a serious effort to stride calmly toward the pools as though it's perfectly normal for us to stand naked in a room filled with a hundred women ranging from age 2 to 82. Our lack of knowledge is made obvious immediately, however, as several grandmother-types police us back in the direction of the showers along the entrance wall. A couple of women offer to share their shampoo and body wash, for which we gratefully thank them. Freshly showered, we turn back around and hop into one of the six or so hot pools in the center of the room.
The next two hours breeze past wonderfully, as we dip our way into one pool after another, spend time in the saunas along the right side of the room, and then return to the pools. one hot. one cold. one cold with heavy water pressure, another with nearly boiling hot water. While the majority of the room is dedicated to pools, the left side is reserved for another activity altogether: exfoliation. We look on from the hot pools as mothers, daughters, and friends vigorously scrub each other using rough cloths. It's somehow a loving gesture to observe, although unfamiliar enough for Brittany to look straight at me and say, "Yeah, I'll sit here in this pool with you, but we're NOT at that level yet."
no kidding.
Eager to maximize on our experience, we inquire about the availability of "massage-ees". To our delight, we find that a massage costs only 17,000 won. AMAZING. We pay and get in a hot tub to wait. Within minutes, three tiny 60-something year old women stride out with the swagger of football linebackers. Two bothered to dress in a bra and panties. One only got as far as the latter. Using swift gestures that say something like, "You paid, now let's get this over with", they motion toward three plastic-covered tables in the far corner of the room. Feeling happy in the scalding hot pool, I assure my friends that I can wait for my turn and watch from a distance.
The term 'massage therapists' seems entirely inaccurate in this context, so I'll just say 'tiny linebackers'. Using every ounce of force at their disposal, the tiny linebackers begin by dumping buckets of hot water over their clients (also inaccurate. I'll use 'naive foreigners'). Next, they reveal two exfoliating cloths each; and, with the gentle touch of someone removing rust with steel wool, they start their work. Expressions of anguish fix themselves on the faces of all three naive foreigners, and I opt to swim elsewhere before I convince myself to ask for my money back...mostly because I have no idea how to ask for my money back.
Twenty minutes pass and it's my turn. My friends walk past me uttering things like, "I'm.so.raw" and "All my skin is gone...". I value their encouragement. The next span of time includes an insane amount of effort to just stay on the table, thanks to the fact that numerous buckets of water poured at regular intervals over slippery skin on a plastic table hardly results in much stability. My giggling does nothing to ease the ferocity of the tiny linebacker, who insists on whipping my arms over my head and then down to my sides, shoving me on my side, and yanking my legs in different directions while she thoroughly scrubs. I can't emphasize the word 'thoroughly' enough.
so. much. exfoliation.
Eventually, it ends. Back in the pools, we decide it was worth it and we feel like champions. Champions of what isn't entirely clear, but satisfaction is definitely present.
We've also agreed to return sometime soon. Our skin feels AWESOME.
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