Baden-Baden on a Shoestring

The average age of the Baden-Baden visitor is high, as is the price tag for an overnight stay, but that shouldn't stop you from visiting. If you enjoy spa culture or Russian history, Baden-Baden may be just the place for you. It's on the train line that runs from Hamburg to Basel, as well as the one from Frankfurt to Lyon, so this city and its thermal waters can be worked into many a European trip.

Surgical strike 

Make Baden-Baden a day stop between two overnight trains or pause for a little pampering on the way to Frankfurt for your flight out. Leave your luggage in one of the train station lockers for between two and five Euros. Just bring a change of underwear or clothes, a comb, and your minimal makeup and face cream, if you have any. The bus stop is to your right as you exit the train station, and about two Euros will get you downtown. Get off at Leopoldplatz and follow the signs to Caracalla or Friedrichsbad.

How to choose your bath

Baden-Baden has two thermal baths, Friedrichsbad and Caracalla, old and new, respectively. Both are lovely, but the two offer very distinct bathing experiences.

Friedrichsbad

If you're interested in history or have read a lot of literature that mentions Baden-Baden, you might prefer Friedrichsbad. Don't be put off by the nude mixed bathing (the central pools are mixed even on the “separate”bating days). There is ZERO pickup scene. This is the bath to choose if you're looking for quiet, relaxation, introspection, or searching for your inner child. Massages are pleasant but short, so if you're on a strict budget opt out and spend your time steaming and soaking. Friedrichsbad also has free lockers for large luggage that can be used while you bathe, if you don't trust the train station.

Friedrichsbad tips

* Don't be unnerved by the Russian-accented attendants or the timetable posted on the wall in the room with the heated floor. You are free to set your own pace and move from pool to poll and back again at your leisure.

* If you think you might want to return to the sauna, take your seat pad with you and store it on one of the plastic shelves in the pool area. (The burly brush-masseuse is in charge of seat pads. She will probably give you a second one if you ask, but you might not want to.)

* The recommended treatment ends with a nap, which I suggest you take. It's especially heavenly if your last sleep was on an overnight train.

Friedrichsbad particulars

Friedrichsbad is open Monday through Sunday, 9:00-22:00 (10:00 pm). It's completely closed on Christmas Eve and Day, and closes early, at 20:00 (8:00 pm), on new Year's Eve. Last entrance is always two hours before closing time. The baths are fully mixed on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Fridays, Sundays and holidays. Monday, Thursday, and Saturday, bathing is single-sex except in the two central pools. Four hours with no massage is 23 euros and includes towels, soap, and moisturizer. The full packet with brush massage and cream massage is 43 euros.

Caracalla

If you want to spend a romantic afternoon with your traveling companion or are looking to meet new people, this is the place for you. Caracalla has a much younger, hipper crowd and beautiful modern facilities. The sauna is dimly lit by a very pretty simulated starry ceiling and the outdoor pools are especially lovely on a sunny afternoon. For additional fees, this bathhouse offers a range of spa services such as massages and pedicures. Book at the front desk when you pay your entrance fee.

Caracalla tips:

* Caracalla is a little less expensive than Friedrichsbad, but has fewer extras included. Bring your own soap and moisturizer.

* A bathing suits is mandatory, so add that and something towel-like to your list. 

* Bring a cup to sample the spring waters from the drinking fountains on the way out.

Caracalla particulars

Caracalla is open Monday through Sunday, 8:00-22:00 (10:00 pm). It's completely closed on Christmas Eve and Day, and closes early, at 20:00 (8:00 pm), on new Year's Eve. Last entrance is always two hours before closing time. Twenty euros gets you a four-hour wristband, no extras.

What else?

After your bath, stroll down to the area below Friedrichsbad and peek through the plexiglass at the ruins of the Roman baths. Don't pay to go in; the exhibit area is small enough that you can see everything from the outside. Then walk up the stairs past the Kirche der Klosterschule vom Heiligen Grab. If you have a cup with you, stop at this plaza and sample the hot, metallic-tasting spring water from the drinking fountain. This is also a nice spot for a little picnic if you've brought food with you. Up another flight of stairs is a lovely view of the city, and the maintenance entrance to the hot springs. The tourist office is in the old Trinkhalle, across the Oosbach. They will give you a free map better than the Falk version, and help you locate the Russian church, the expensive but interesting Faberge museum, or whatever other sight you might want to see. Foodwise, there are no bargains. Plan a splurge, bring a picnic with, or sate yourself at a snack bar/Imbiss.

All photos and tips by Shyamali Ghosh. For more Baden-Baden pictures, visit http://www.flickr.com/photos/70781501@N05/sets/72157628177346325/. 

The Citadel, Hanoi, 13 December 2010

It's better to travel on Mondays. Big cities are always quiet and over-industrious at the beginning of the week, compensating for the riotous weekend. The shops along Hang Ngang are open, but there are no shoppers.

Left along a street lined with sewing supply vendors, things are a bit more lively, but only a bit.

A patisserie decorated for Christmas.

A temple on the corner.

Bird market.

Past the coffin maker, and a funeral.

Further down the street, railroad tracks run right past houses. Around the corner and down the street a little further is another set of tracks.

They are used, but perhaps not much.

At the Army Museum, across from Lenin's statue, the guard at the entrance gate shakes his finger. It's closed, of course. Monday. The Highlands Coffee wedged into the edge of the complex seems unappealing, so I walk on.

Up the street and right onto a wide, busy street lined with beautiful old trees, wondering what to do...but there are airplanes over there, across a walled courtyard. Will a finger-shaking guard appear? No, nor does anyone else.

There's also a stone and gold-washed building on the other side of the grassy square.

It's the gateway to the former Forbidden City where Hanoi's royalty once lived.

A shrine upstairs.

A dragon on the roof.

The steep stairs down.

On the other side of the Doan Mon relic, the signs for tourists are in place.

A symbol of Hanoi's imperial rulers, at the place where the nation's sacred spirits are supposed to converge.

Little is blocked off. Steep staircases lead to more little rooms with shrines, surrounded by large balconies.

But there's little hint of what these buildings once were. The blue signs are cumbersome to read in both English and French, and though the buildings are beautiful they evoke little. It's difficult to picure mandarins dressed in silk moving with grace from one building to the next, or a king's children at play. The Citadel is empty.

Hanoi, 10-13 December 2010

Hanoi in December: At Le Thai To temple, on the west side of Hoan Kiem Lake, December 9 2010. It's quiet, though the temple is small and the street outside is busy. Smoke rises from incense coils, one in front of each stone guardian cat. Other than that, nothing stirs at all.

Outside, the gold-painted buildings should glow in the sun, but there isn't any.

Hang Dao shopping street.

Under the canopy of electrical wires along Hang Bo.

It rains on and off, a dull, chilly drizzle. The roaming doughnut vendors needn't bother to try keep their baskets dry in the rain. The greasy, sugared balls of dough they sell are inedible anyway, a mere pretence used to extract money from hungry drunken foreigners. The baguette vendors on the corner work twice as hard as usual, though, trying to keep their product dry. They are the only ones who seem to mind the rain. The flower vendors are better off. Their sheaves of roses and gladioli ride the backs of their bicycles, fresh and colorful from morning until night. The fruit vendors trot the streets of the old quarter dressed in plastic rain ponchos, pausing at each shop door to sell the workers an afternoon snack.

A woman selling plastic ponchos and cheap little umbrellas chases a couple of European boys down the street, teasing them into buying an umbrella. The jacket vendors on Hang Ngang have extra customers, all hoping to keep warm. The pho shops and Bia Hoi stands do a roaring business all over town.

Fried tofu and frog's legs with bamboo shoots in a Bia Hoi near Hoi Tay. There are four men at the neighboring table. They've been drinking vodka, from all appearances for a long time, for their table is solid with empty plates. One realized that their are foreigners at the next table, and speaks in broken German. After a time, he remembers that he has an appointment and weaves off down the street. Two men remain, peeling little tangerines quietly.

In the Botanical Garden or around Hoan Kiem Lake, bridal couples make the rounds, getting photographed in spite of the gloom. When the skies open, they retreat to the nearest cafe still in full dress to smoke until the shower passes. They spend more time waiting than getting their pictures taken, so that the photograpers are still shooting at dusk.

Christmas decorations twinkle in the darkness, and not just in the tourist district. There's no Santa Claus in the mall, but parents have brought their dressed-up babies along to photograph them under the shopping center's Christmas trees.

A Christmas tree outside a cinema on Hang Bai.

A cotton snowman near the north end of Hoan Kiem.

On Monday, museums are closed. The Citadel is deserted, and it's not even clear that it's open.

The gateway to the former Forbidden City.

The shrine in the gateway's upper story.

A dragon on the roof.

The steep staircase.

On the other side of the Doan Mon relic, the signs for tourists are in place.

A symbol of Hanoi's imperial rulers, at the place where the nation's sacred spirits are supposed to converge.