Still, when an aesthetician suggested I drink my own urine, I was shocked. You want me to do what?! I go to every spa with an open mind and a go-with-the-flow attitude. Soaking in a vat of beer in the Czech Republic?
Tiny fish nibbling away at dry skin on my feet in a Malaysia? Tickly, but bring it. More: 10 most luxurious spa treatments. But, when during a facial at a spa in Bath, England, my facialist said I should drink my own urine, claiming it would clear up the pimples on my chin, it was truly a moment of monumental weirdness.
Not a chance. I draw the line there. She did her best to convince me that was a credible way to boost my health โ even writing down websites and book recommendations to check out.
I was too shocked to utter a word and left the treatment room as quickly as I could. Or the hamam attendant at a spa in Winnipeg, Canada, who concluded my rub down with olive oil soap with one firm slap delivered to my bare bottom. More: I tried the bird poop facial that promises beautiful skin.
At a resort on the coast of the Red Sea in Egypt, my male massage therapist took things further and massaged my breasts โ without asking. I grabbed his wrist and moved his hand to a more appropriate area. My travel companion also had a strange experience during his massage here. Other times, I have been the one providing comic relief.
