A self-confessed spa junkie, I've been slathered with bright blue clay during the infamous turquoise wrap at the Golden Door. I've been blissed out by hot stones placed between my toes at The Orchid. I have huffed and puffed my weight-loss way up hills at the Oaks in Ojai. I've tried every mud bath in Calistoga and even splurged on the overrated champagne facial at the Sonoma Mission Inn. So when I decided to visit Bulgaria on the recommendation of some travel savvy friends, I couldn't wait to check out Bulgarian health spas. I was in for a big surprise. Serious spa goers in Bulgaria don't come to knock off a couple of pounds or get their pores cleansed – they come to cure what ails them. And the cure is mostly in the water.
With more than 500 natural mineral hot springs throughout the country, Bulgaria's therapeutic spa treatments involve either drinking, soaking, or swimming in the water, and are said to cure many modern-day ailments: kidney stones, rheumatoid arthritis, chronic colitis, eczema, bronchitis, varicose veins, asthma, obesity, chronic constipation – even sterility. Oh, and did I mention cellulite?
This magic water is clear, colorless, and almost flavorless. Out in the Bulgarian countryside, it shoots out of rocks or bubbles up in muddy pools. In the cities it pours out of ornate spouts in the main square or trickles from fountains near the public baths. And it comes out hot. Hot enough to burn your fingers. I drank so much of it, cooled off, of course, on the "more is better theory" I later needed a curative treatment for a very bloated stomach.
Nearly 5,000 years ago, the water must have intrigued the early inhabitants of the area, as villages and towns sprouted up around the hot springs. Legend has it that in 200 AD invading Roman soldiers stopped to bathe their wounds in the warm, soothing springs near what is now Hissar. Later the Roman emperor Diocletian constructed a fortress around Hissar, and built splendid villas and ornate marble baths, creating the first Bulgarian health spa. The crumbling fortress walls and ancient marble baths are still there.
In the 20th century the Communists would build huge, block-style hotel spas around the mineral water (and mud) where Bulgarians could enjoy a spa holiday for just a few leva. After the fall of Communism, many locals couldn't afford the new hotel spas and have to make do with public baths or take their families to bathe au naturel in the rural hot springs.
Whether they live along the Black Sea or in remote villages in the mountains, Bulgarians take health and healing very seriously. The spas I visited had complete medical staffs: a doctor, several nurses, and a variety of skilled body workers and trained masseuses. Treatments for the cure are referred to as balneology.
Hotel Augusta in historic Hissar was my favorite spa,partly because the staff was so enthusiastic about the commercial possibilities of their spa, and partly because the road to Hissar winds through the famous Valley of the Roses, the source of pure Bulgarian rose oil, which is much sought after by cosmetic companies. It is a romantic drive through serene pastures, orchards of flowering fruit trees, and fields of lavender.
The Hotel Augusta is typical of Bulgarian spas undergoing privatization – management remodels when it can afford to.So the swimming pool, the first section to be revitalized, is right out of a posh Hawaiian resort. The hotel itself, built during the Communist era, is dark and dreary by American standards. While the lobby was decorated in dark brown velvet, with unlighted chandeliers (to save money), my large suite with living room and small refrigerator was done in cheerful bright yellow and green.
From my deck I could look out over the valley. Just the sight of the lush green rolling hills below a ridge of purple mountains lowered my stress level. To me, the air in Hissar smelled like sunshine and felt like silk against my skin.
Boyan Manlev, my guide through Bulgarian-based Sunshine Tours, accompanied me to the spas. At first I thought this was odd, but most Bulgarians speak little English, so as it turned out, Boyan was a big help. Unfortunately he knows more about my medical history than he ever wanted to.
Dr. Ianna Hristozova was the head doctor at Hotel Augusta. A short redhead with a wide smile, she greeted me warmly but scolded me for not planning to spend at least 7 to 10 days taking the cure. "We will do what we can in two days," she said. "But no promises." Recently, she explained, a Texas couple had stayed for a month. "They were here for chronic constipation," she said seriously. "They went back to America very happy."
After a long interview about my medical history and a quick check of my blood pressure and a tongue inspection, I was sent off to meet the head nurse, also named Ianna, who would start a cure on my lower back. Nurse Ianna, a trim 30-ish blonde, is married to one of Bulgaria's top archeologists. She told great stories about some 4,000-year-old Thracian tombs recently found nearby in a farmer's field. She talked a mile a minute in broken English.
My first treatment was an underwater Chinese massage that left me limp. While I reclined in a huge hospital-green tub of warm water, Ianna used a fat green hose with an intense spray of water to massage the acupuncture meridians of my body. Then it was back to my room for a nap and several glasses of mineral water.
Two hours later she took me upstairs to a sunny room for my paraffin treatment – hot paraffin poured into a hopsack-like bag and applied to my back for 45 minutes. I could feel the warmth of the paraffin seep deep into my back. Afterward, she handed me another glass of water. I couldn't remember being so relaxed.
The next morning, after a brisk walk around the grounds and a chilly swim in the pool, I met with a wild-haired masseuse, for a holistic aroma therapy massage. The essential oils used in aroma therapy are believed to relieve a wide range of stress-related disorders, skin disorders, even PMS. In a state of total relaxation, I slid off the table smelling like juniper, lemon, and coriander.
I had found the Chinese massage session so relaxing that I somewhat guiltily indulged in another one before we headed for Sandanski and the spa at St. Vrach, where I had heard of a miracle machine that eliminates every woman's greatest enemy: cellulite.
Sandanski is near the Greek border and boasts a balmy Mediterranean-like climate. It is easy to see why the long-term Communist dictator of Bulgaria,Todor Zhivkov, built one of his residences here. Opulent, with white marble staircases, massive windows, views of the valley from every room, and its very own lake, Zhivkov's residence is now the hotel St. Vrach.
It is pretty much as he left it 13 years ago. You can rent his very own sprawling presidential four-bedroom, four-bathroom suite for about $250 a night – complete with a room for your bodyguards. The suite is so big it occupies the whole top floor of the hotel and includes a conference hall with fireplace and a kitchen.
Perched on a hill and overlooking unspoiled farmlands and quaint villages, St. Vrach was my idea of paradise. Although the dining room was huge and formal, Boyan and I took our meals with the other guests outside on a terrace overlooking the lake. At St. Vrach there are no sounds except birds chirping, the occasional quack of a duck, or the rustle of the warm evening breeze through the trees. The resort town of Sandanski, about a 10-minute drive away, is more lively.
But I didn't care about the night life. I was more interested in the
cellulite cure. Dr. Georgy Iossifov, medical director at St. Vrach, reminded me of a small-town pediatrician. Tall, white-haired, and in his late 60s, he exuded warmth and kindness; I instantly trusted him. After a brief exam he outlined a program, but shook his finger and gave me my second scolding, saying he could not do much in two days, that if I was serious about curing my back and lumpy thighs, he would need 10 to 15 days.
My anticipated cellulite treatment consisted of several small suction cups placed on my thighs and back. A small whirring machine regulated their motion. It felt like several hands playfully pinching my skin. I lay face down in the treatment room with sunshine pouring through the windows, thinking about what crazy things women do. Later I soaked in a red algae bath in the dictator's private bathtub.
The spa at St. Vrach is in transition. The new management has ambitious plans. Current treatments include programs for increasing life span, reducing weight, curing asthma and other respiratory system troubles, and stopping smoking.
Or you can have a program tailored to your needs. Dr. Iossiffov was proudly planning to host a group of Danes the following
week, who would be bathing in red wine. Spa staff had rigged tubs that looked like oak wine barrels. I laughed. I, who had just taken a bath in red algae, could not believe that anyone could sit in warm water and red wine, but Dr. I said the Danes took this very seriously and that red wine could possibly prevent skin cancer.
Lulled into a blissful stupor by the balmy air, sunshine, and treatments, I entertained fantasies of living at St.Vrach permanently.
And we had not even hit the Black Sea, which is considered Mecca for European spa junkies. Of the numerous Black Sea spas, the Hotel Dobrudja in Albena (north of Varna) is probably the most famous.
And the most serious. It's so serious they call it Medical Center Albena. Treatments cover everything from aging, stress, obesity, and neuritis, to neuralgia, arthritis, rheumatism, and sexual dysfunction. The large fitness center has the latest equipment. The spa also offers cosmetic services that include the latest trendy skin peels.
Bulgarians highly recommend Dobrudja. I met with the head doctor, a specialist in aroma therapy, who gave me a tour of the facilities. Treatment rooms were rather basic. I was intrigued by the warm beeswax treatment and, of course, the electrical and light treatments for cellulite. The spa's staff of 60 can perform up to 2,000 various procedures a day.
Unfortunately, I did not have time to try treatments at the Dobrudja. This tall, imposing hotel overlooks the white-sand beach and glittering sea. The coastal air, incredibly warm and sultry, is probably an important part of the medical center's cure rate.
There are many stories about Americans who have come to Bulgaria hoping for a cure. Americans seem to come to Bulgaria when all other treatments have failed. At St. Vrach, a high-powered New York businessman came for asthma treatments. It took seven years of visits, but eventually he was healed. As for me, although 2 treatments on the cellulite machine did not cure what ailed me, I departed Bulgaria with no sign of stress in my body, with a radiant complexion from drinking all that water.
Last month a friend and I spent what should have been four glorious days at a famous-name spa in Arizona. What a disappointment. Some $3,500 and several trendy treatments later, I left feeling that the good-looking, well-trained staff didn't really care what I got out of it. No doctor scolded me. No one asked about in-depth health issues. My friend and I received very little personal attention. I figure we could have flown to Bulgaria and taken the cure for a full 15 days and still had money left over.
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