I'm a 27 year old woman living in Northcote. Ridiculous things happen to me constantly. Usually on the no 86 tram.
Published June 14th 2012
Last weekend in honour of Her Royal Highness, the Queens birthday (not to mention my own!) my splendid partner took me away to the Peninsular Hot Springs in Rye.
The whole experience was delightful and of course, in true day spa fashion we were addressed by the staff most of the time in deep, calming monotone voices. Upon checking in we were given robes and towels and directed to the change rooms and public outdoor bathing area. The bathing pools are situated in a really serene environment (although not so serene if you're my boyfriend who fixated on the disaster that would occur should there be a bushfire?!). The pools vary in temperature, most between 39-41 degrees and are actually great to sit in on a drizzly day like the one we had. Some pools can get quite hot and make you a little giddy when stepping out, but we found this kind of good in some ways, as at least we weren't shivering our pampered butts off when walking between pools.
An hour later and we were ready for our private mineral bath, which I assumed would be much like the public bathing - except alone. This was not so much the case. Instead a staff member took us into a small bathroom and explained that the large rounded bathtub before us was filed with water from the mineral springs and asked us to 'let out body decide' on an oil which suited us, by smelling them with our eyes shut. While I'm sure thy the oil I chose did genuinely cleanse my chakra and/or free my inner child, it also made the bath rather slippery and we spent the next 40 minutes randomly sliding around and hysterically drowning (very sexy). Needless to say we weren't devastated when it came time for our massages.
Once again we were taken into a beautifully designed and scented room, asked to select and oil and provided with disposable g-strings to replace our wet bathers. Shortly after the therapists had left the room I turned around to find my boyfriend asking 'is this right?'. Not so much my friend - he had the wide backed g-string on back to front with the strip at the front barely covering his modesty, and the wider part sagging behind. (I only mention this so you too can learn the complexities of the disposable underwear). Eventually, once I managed to stop picturing that ridiculous image and control my wheezing I thoroughly enjoyed the massage, which was amazingly professional and completely relaxing.