Thalssotherapy

As part of our eldest child´s visit, we planned a girl date to a new spa opened on the salt flats at Sečovlje. I have visited the salt flats themselves several times - it is one of my favourite nearby places. Right on the border with Croatia, they are otherworldly in their stark beauty. Cell phones and therefore my camera were banned at the spa, so I thought I would resurrect some photos of the salt pans taken by my friend on a visit ten years ago, which are much better than anything I could snap.

I agonized for a good while over whether to try a spa treatment because they began at around 30 euros, and, as I am on record as saying, communal nakedness makes me nervous. But my elder daughter was all for getting a salt scrub, so I booked one along with her. At least I would have moral support and I would actually find out if it was worth it (as my husband says, living here makes us feel obligated to know more about Slovenia than Slovenians).

Thalassotherapy, as I learned, apparently refers to the health benefits of the sea and its products, as well as being a fun word to add to your vocabulary. Slovenians are seriously into natural and alternative health treatments, and brine water and sea mud have been officially recognized by the Ministry of Health here as being natural healing products. In fact, you can even be prescribed a trip to a spa by a doctor, paid for by national health insurance. Personally, I always feel invigorated when I swim in the sea, but I was not convinced anything magical is going on outside my head. Maybe I was wrong, and I can feel vindicated for all those times my husband said I am insane for swimming in British (read: near freezing) waters.

The entrance fee got us access to the big salt water swimming pool and the Kniepp walking pools. The swimming pool was temperate and really salty and it was fun to be so buoyant. The walking pools were three long pools, each filled with a different size of stone, meant to be good for your feet. One was supposed to be a hot pool, but hadn´t heated up by the time we were there. You could pay extra to bathe in the brine pools (a by-product of the salt production here, denser than sea water and mineral rich).

After interminable days of hot weather, the morning started off cloudy with a threat of rain, and we ended up using our towels as blankets on the loungers and getting hot chocolate at the cafe. But the silence and the views across the salt pans more than compensated.

And so, it got around to treatment time. I roused elder daughter from her meditation on a stone, and we went to the front desk. A young man and women escorted us over to the treatment area, which was a series of open air cubicles. ˝I´m not having the guy do a salt rub,˝ I hissed out of the corner of my mouth to daughter, panic rising rapidly.

We arrived, and he handed us tiny packages with the words, ˝These are your thong underwear.˝ I am thinking, first, I should not be accepting thong undies from someone young enough to be my son, and secondly, that something more Mrs Slocombe would make me more comfortable. But I am in for the pennies, so I have to be in for the euros. Thankfully, he then left us to the ministrations of young women.

Those of you who watched the show know just what jokes I am avoiding right now :)

I sidled out of the changing room clutching my too small towel over as much of me as possible and tried not to look at the young couple staked out caked in mud as we made our way to our little booth with two beds - or at my smirking daughter who, she confessed later, was getting great enjoyment out of my discomfort. Then, at last, safely on a bed with a strategically placed sheet, I really did manage to close my eyes and enjoy the salt rub (a bit scratchy at times). Just as I had finally relaxed, the girl said ˝Okay, it´s done, time for a shower,˝ and pointed us to an open air shower right next to the mud people...

Emotional trauma aside, my skin really was much smoother afterwards, and the morning off mothering a toddler - with time to lie down and do nothing! - was regenerating. And that was way more than two minutes of bravery for introverted, inhibited me, so I get to pat myself heartily on the back. And never wear a disposable thong again.

Touristy stuff: Here are the websites for the Lepa Vida spa, the salt pans, and the salt pan products. I have already confessed to being frugal, so personally, I would plan a large part of a day here, and take advantage of the free entry to the salt pans that goes with the spa entrance fee instead of an expensive treatment. But if you enjoy communal near-nudity in the open air, slathered in mud and salt, then go ahead, you have found your people.