Hot water

An odd corner of Tuscan life is “taking the waters.” Italy is studded with terme, (natural hot springs), all along its length wherever underground water chambers meet volcanic activity. And in Tuscany, terme are particularly abundant. These springs can be undeveloped, rough swimming holes or elaborate resorts, and everything in between. A few that I’ve been to even have a kind of Italian-Wes-Anderson mid-century-modern vibe with all the strangeness that you’d expect with that particular combination.

One day a friend took my husband John, our kids, and me to Terme San Giovanni, about a half hour east of Siena. The views from the pools and from the lawns and sun beds that surround them are of a perfect Tuscan landscape. The five cascading swimming pools here start with a covered kind of temple-to-the-water where 39-degree celsius (102-degree Fahrenheit) water emerges from the mouths of marble gods, then descends through the other pools, getting cooler at each plateau. The water is uniformly white from its natural mix of sulfur and magnesium sulfate. It has so much of the stuff that you can pick it up in your hands from the bottom of the pools like mud and plaster it all over your skin, which is supposed to be something good to do.

But that wasn’t what John was noticing. Turns out while I was pondering the effect of sulfur on one’s pores, John looked around and realized that we were surrounded by scantily clad, buff and beautiful 20-something Italian men and women prancing about.

John tapped me, and I wiped the white goop out of my eyes and looked around. We were, by a wide margin, the most modestly clothed bathers in the terme. It turned out we’d happened to arrive for the Friday and Saturday spa nights when the place in open until 1am and features “Romantic bathing under the moon, surrounded by candles, with a dinner that is never banal, in an intimate atmosphere.” Intimate. In case you didn’t get it already.

I started to worry, but then remembered something I’d read on the website, something that seemed odd at the time, but made more sense now. Foremost among the rules was “Evitare Effusioni Pubbliche”.

I will use the literal translation here: “Avoid Public Effusion”.

In addition to the baths, there is also a hotel, and restaurant by the pools (which I did think  was good, but may have borderlined the “b” word). Terme San Giovanni also has a spa, which judging by my massage, has pretty fabulous treatments.

To visit a Tuscan terme is to embark on an unusual adventure. Don’t forget that you’ll need rubber flip flops and a fabric hair cap, as you will at all Italian pools.