A LOVE SO HOT

BATHING IN THERMAL SPRINGS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH SWIMMING, BUT RATHER WITH FLOATING AND ENJOYING YOURSELF

- Max Scharnigg

NON-SWIMMING IS AN art. You can learn it, for example, from two elderly gentlemen at the Széchenyi Thermal Bath in Budapest, Hungary. In this bathing palace from the days of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, the two men move at a measured pace from the changing rooms into the steaming thermal water without interrupting their conversation. Unperturbed, they enter a state of suspended animation at around 37 degrees Celsius.

We and the other tourists test the waters first, hold our breath nervously as we submerge, discuss the water temperature and how beneficial this bath might be, then swim around frantically in the mist and become restless again after 10 minutes because nothing new has happened here for over 100 years.

Yet bathing in warm healing water should not be an effort, but rather a process like strolling. The older gentlemen soon drift to the famous chessboards to soak up the atmosphere next to the players.

The water arrives hot in this wonderfully confusing bathing establishment: from the bowels of the earth. Around 120 springs bubble up in Budapest. They feed the city's 12 baths with tens of thousands of litres of water every day. Budapest owes this wealth to its location in the Carpathian Basin and a crack in the earth's crust.

Almost everywhere in the world where warm water finds its way to the surface, people lie comfortably exhausted in it—in domesticated spa facilities or in wild pools. Hot springs can be found around the world, from Iceland to Japan, from Hungary to Mexico. Different bathing cultures have developed around the hot spots. And the water is often accompanied by geological spectacles.