Dragon Hill Spa

Here's the latest of yours truly at a party on Friday night. Nice cracker.

Friday night was long and I stayed out much too late. We went to a house party (box party) at Alex and Everett's house. It was fun, actually. Afterwards, we went to Slang and then just sat around outside until the sun came up. That's one of the advantages of the heat of this country: dawn is also a warm time of day.

I couldn't help but remember that, "the night is always darkest before the dawn". Argh. Maybe that is supposed to be a sign for me. I've been feeling a bit on the crummy side lately: a bit lonely; a bit meloncholy. I think it might have something to do with Cisco leaving. He was the first friend I've known who has actually left Korea. I guess this is what people do here: they leave. It feels bad though so I can't really be glib about it. It's hard to meet people and then have to say goodbye to them so quickly. Anyway, I digress.

To make it up to myself (and to not disappoint those of you who read this and expect a follow-up post about it), I went to the Dragon Hill Spa on Saturday. It's at the Yongsan Subway stop on the dark blue line (line 1). The picture above is the entrance from the very busy street (right beside a huge mall and a wedding hall. Wow). It was amazing to know it was going to be that good just from the view from the street. I walked down the planks wedged between smooth rocks and knew it was going to be a great day.

The first piece of art I saw on my way in was this little guy. Koreans love bug art. I'm not sure why, but I do have to agree that it is quite beautiful in an eye-catching way. Here's a beetle on the tree leading up to the front door of the spa:

The fountain at the front door was amazing too, but I decided to put my camera away after that. Jimjilbangs are swarming with naked or partially-naked people, so I thought it most appropriate to be photo-less.

Once inside, I had no idea what to do. I had read a bit about it, but was so overwhelmed once I got in, that I was sort of lost. As soon as I wore my shoes somewhere I wasn't supposed to (so very taboo in Korea), someone approached me and quite nicely steered me to my shoe locker. I find that sometimes they treat me like a leper here, but at the sauna, I am just one of them and all of the women are super nice. Once my shoes were put away, I wandered to the elevator and went up to the woman's sauna floor. This building has seven floors (which is a huge sauna by Korean standards) and the whole third floor is exclusively for women. An outdoor pool on the main floor (co-ed) sounded so appealing from home, but it was swarming with children, so I stayed out.

Again, I'm ushered to a locker where I put my new pajamas inside and stripped down to my birthday suit. And to answer your inevitable question, yes, this was an awkward moment. Remember that I went to a sauna at Mudfest? At least there was MUD to cover me up in the sauna there. Here though? No such thing. All naked, all the time, surrounded by people who look different than you. A little overwhelming, yes. However, I warmed up to it at Mudfest and now I'm accustomed to the strange looks yet overall accepting attitude. People at the spa are there to relax, not to give me a hard time.

After an invigorating shower, I was off to the baths. You have to shower for a long time to get all the stuff off your body. This includes dirt and grime, but is mainly for things like hair products and cream, that clog and muddy the waters. Literally. So I drifted from pool to pool in the main room. I started in the sea water bath then moved to the "Event Pool" (no idea what that means). In a second room, I got into a body-shaped, underwater chair, outfitted with with jets to massage the whole body. It was heavenly. They keep most hot pools at about 45 degrees Celcius.

The next room was more of the same, but the pools were deeper. A functional hot and cool pool, and a hot pool. When they say "hot" though, they mean "nearly unbearable". When they say cold, they mean "below freezing". A sign said the cold pool was 20 degrees Celcius, but I think it was more like 2 degrees, honestly. I couldn't even get in past my knees.

Beside the last of the pools were two saunas. Now these were really great for me. The first was a scented-steam room. It was sweaty and wonderful, but so small. I like this about these great big places: they have these tiny areas in which you feel very intimate. They do a great job with space planning in spas. Inside, a bench made of tiny glass mosaic tiles lined one wall, and a bubbling foot bath with scorching hot water, lined the opposite wall. Steam dripped from the ceiling and walls, covering us in moisture. Beside this room was a death-defying sauna at, get this, 91 degrees! Inside I could hardly sit down on the cedar benches, it was that hot. On a small shelf, a sand-filled hourglass sat. I was told to tip it over and only stay as long as the sand did in the top of the timekeeper. I could hardly do it, but I managed. A dip in that freezing cold pool almost happened, but I still could not bring myself to do it.

And then a woman I had talked to earlier came to me and led me outside. Yeah, outside. There I found a walking pool (you get in, you walk around) that was rather cool, and two other hot pools. One was a ginseng tub, I can't remember the other one. A tree grew in the centre of the outdoor space and where the tall walls ended, the night sky began. It was bright when I first got outside, but as my time there wore on, so too did the night start to fall. Because I see the night change to day and the day to night frequently in Korea, I have started to notice what I have never noticed back home: the breath-taking colour of the sky. I was pretty waterlogged after so many hours in one tub or another, so I took a break and lay down beneath the tree on a bench. Imagine that: I wasn't clothed, a few woman were in tubs around me, quietly enjoying dusk, and I looked up to see night fall. The blue was so gorgeous and, as it faded to indigo, I felt the weight of the last year fall away a little bit. I am incredulous at least once a week: "I live here and I'm actually doing this." It was a pretty spiritual moment. Because I was done with the pools and because it was so amazing to just lie there, I stayed for an hour, watching the sky change. I felt exhausted and revived at the same time. It's amazing what some quiet time will do to your mind.

Perhaps the oddest part of the spa were the rooms outside of the main sauna area. One place was warm, made for sleeping, and some women were taking advantage of this quiet. Through this room, a small door resembling the door of an igloo opened into a unique space. I saw a woman sitting inside, just inside the door. She moved in to let me enter, and it was the strangest little place. First of all, I had to crouch down to half my height (she said to crawl but I was freaked out and wanted to stay on my feet) just to get past the igloo door. I could stand up inside, but just barely. The room, about 20 feet wide by 30 feet long, was shaped like a longhouse or a loaf of bread, rounded on top with straight walls. At one end, near the door where we entered, was a door that lead to the FIRE (hence not wanting to stand up). It was stoked from the other side (outside the room). On the floor were countess rough but cushioning cedar mats. We sat there together, this lady and I, and barely breathed. She advised me to take my towel and drench it with my water. Then she showed me how to wrap it around my head so I could breathe. Seriously, I'm pretty clausterphobic to start with: this was a bit much for me. However, I wanted to prove to myself that I wasn't going to perish in the super dry, incredibly hot room (there was no thermometer, but I needed a wet towel around my nose and mouth to breathe. It was pretty, pretty hot in there), so I stuck it out for a bit.

Even showering at the spa is luxurious: it is expected to take a long time, that you scrub like mad, and that others help you reach areas you can't, such as your back. I'm moved by the kindness that people show me and how accepting they are that I'm in their spa space. At times like this, I feel adoration for Korea. I even took my time drying my hair and putting make up on. A little girl beside me sang, "Do Your Ears Hang Low" in English. It was the cutest thing ever.

I was off to meet the gang for some dinner and shopping (post to follow). For the time being though, I was just okay. I felt weird: oddly, I felt only a little rested and more than a little restless. The spa, the rest, spurred in me some feelings I had forgotten about. I should do a hapiness and forgiveness blog to explain fully. But that would really surface the emotions, and I'm not sure I can handle another sleepless night. In closing, the spa was great. I will gladly go again before it gets too cold to return to my outdoor contemplation.