Visitors to the spa enjoy the outdoors at Doris Lake mail from the trail Tell us about the world's best spas and baths on our message board. IF YOU GO Where to stay: Brenner's Park Hotel and Spa, Schillerstrasse 4-6; tel. 011-49-7221-9000, fax 011-49-7221-38772. Doubles start at $250. The hotel also can be booked through Leading Hotels of the World, tel. (800) 223-6800, and Preferred Hotels & Resorts Worldwide, tel. (800) 323-7500. A less expensive alternative is the 53-room, family-run Atlantic Hotel on Lichtentaler Allee, tel. 011-49-7221-3510, fax 011-49-7221-26260. Doubles, $125-$183. Pampering: Brenner's extensive spa treatment menu includes "anti-jet-lag" treatment for $67; underwater massage, $36; one-hour massage, $60; and rosemary bath, $22. Fitness classes and use of pool and other facilities are included in room rate. Where to eat: The Park restaurant at Brenner's is formal; dinner for two, excluding wine, runs $80-$100. The hotel's Schwarzwaldstube is popular for lunch, $30-$45 for two. A block from Brenner's is Badener Weinkeller; dinner for two, $75-$90. Its candlelit garden dining is lovely in summer. For more information: German National Tourist Office, 122 E. 42nd St., 52nd Floor, New York, New York 10168; tel. (212) 661-7200, fax (212) 661-7174; Internet: http://www.germany-tourism.de.

September 23, 1999
Web posted at: 10:18 a.m. EDT (1418 GMT)

In this story: ·Affordable spas ·Spa of the stars ·Getting the once over twice ·The 'bio sauna' ·And the food ·Outside the spa RELATED RESOURCES, SITES

By Lisa Marlowe

BADEN-BADEN, Germany (Los Angeles Times Syndicate) -- This tidy town on the edge of the Black Forest is the grande dame of German spas, well preserved, wealthy and blissfully above it all.

As the country's ultimate luxury resort (one out of five habitues reportedly is a millionaire), it has more than its share of face-lifted matrons and casino-loving counts. But when it comes to the quest for Gesundheit (good health), you'd be hard pressed to find a more tranquil, rejuvenating respite from an Autobahn-paced world.

Perhaps too tranquil. The stereotype of the city as one big retirement home, albeit a fancy one, was set in the 19th century by annual visitors such as Queen Victoria, and it lingers stubbornly in the minds of the uninitiated.

"Why Baden-Baden?" asked a German friend when my husband, Brian, and I mentioned we were headed there as our last stop on a long drive through Europe.

"It's very chic," I replied. "And I want to experience a real 'old world' spa."

"Sure, it's chic," he said, "and geriatric; lots of people make it their 'last stop.'"

For a minute he had me picturing mummified bodies swathed in plaid shawls being pushed through the parks in wheelchairs by white-uniformed nurses. So we were delighted to discover that the Belle Epoque resort, while it does have a sort of frozen-in-time grandeur, is up-to-the-minute where it counts, with designer shopping, award-winning hotels and restaurants, and plenty of sports besides shuffleboard. And suppose you do come to Baden-Baden near the end of life's long road -- at least you've chosen the scenic route.

Yet here, too, the preconceived image didn't hold. While a substantial number of fellow spa-goers were in the sedate elderly category, many more were young or middle age, tanned and toned.

Set in a woodsy valley in the northern Black Forest not far from the Rhine and the French border -- Strasbourg, France is only 40 or so miles (60 kilometers) away -- Baden-Baden is fed by 23 hot springs that produce 200,000 gallons of mineral water a day. Thus the name, which translates to "baths-baths."

But be forewarned: There's a vast difference between American-style spas, with their emphasis on esoteric treatments with often mystical undertones, and Baden-Baden's time-tested regimes, which can best be described as bracing: saunas, soaks, pummelings and purges. Where in a typical U.S. spa we'd be tucked away in a private treatment room and draped in a modest sheet, lights down low, Germans get down to business in their birthday suits, without a care for what they look like.

Lack of inhibition is part of the bathing tradition that began with the arrival of the Romans in A.D. 70; the word "spa" comes from the Latin salus per aquae ("health through the waters").

Today the tradition is carried on at several deluxe facilities, the main two being the circa-1877 Friedrichsbad, famed for its fantastically ornate baths (some with mixed nude bathing), and Caracalla Therme, a modern fitness shrine (bathing suits required).

At Friedrichsbad, the basic spa visit consists of three or more hours of steam, sauna, hot and cold showers and soaks, followed by a rigorous soap and brush massage and finally a cream massage. Then you're wrapped in a sheet like a newborn and left to doze for half an hour.

Becca, the author's daughter, enjoys the concrete hot springs basin

Literally "taking the waters" calls for slightly more courage. At the monumental Trinkhalle (drinking hall) in the center of town, there's a gold-plated fountain of Heilwasser (healing water), which contains such "beneficial" substances as lithium and arsenic (in presumably minute quantities). I declined the opportunity to try it, substituting, in the interest of research, my husband, who, after regaining his normal, pleasant expression, said: "Anything that tastes that nasty's gotta be good for you."

We arrived in Baden-Baden after an arduous, seat-aching drive from Austria last August. As a reward, and to cap our two-and-a-half weeks in Europe, we checked into the sumptuous Brenner's Park Hotel and Spa for three days of pampering. Opened in 1872, the year-round resort has hosted such luminaries as Enrico Caruso, Czar Alexander, Marlene Dietrich, Edward VIII and Wallis Simpson, Mary Pickford, Irving Berlin, Igor Stravinsky, Henry Ford, the Prince of Monaco, Walt Disney, Henry Kissinger, Yasser Arafat, Elizabeth Taylor, Boris Yeltsin, Frank Sinatra and the Dalai Lama.

The 100-room hotel sits beside the Lichtentaler Allee, a 1.5-mile-long (2.4-kilometer) promenade, an impossibly pretty setting complete with English rose garden, fanciful fountains, bridle paths and iron gingerbread footbridges spanning the narrow River Oos (pronounced "oz").

This is where Baden-Badeners -- jaunty hats on heads, coiffed poodles on leashes -- take their daily constitutional, eventually winding up in the Cafe Konig's garden for tea, Kirschtorte (cherry cake) and a healthy dose of beau monde gossip.

The majority of Brenner's guestrooms overlook the promenade. Ours was classically furnished in subtle shades of blue, with doors that opened onto a balcony.

"Do we have any interesting neighbors next door?" I quizzed the bellman as he showed us in.

"Not really," he said, "but Mr. Mubarak (the president of Egypt) just left."

Almost every major hotel in Baden-Baden offers spa amenities, but none equals Brenner's approach to total well-being. In addition to the traditional beauty/body treatments, guests may avail themselves of medical checkups and treatments. Cancer detection, cardiovascular evaluation, stress prevention, dentistry, ophthalmology, orthopedics and, of course, plastic surgery are done by specialists at the Black Forest Clinic, next door to Brenner's in the Villa Stephanie, an elegant 19th century mansion that was the original site of the hotel.

Feeling comfortably remote from the outside world, I decided to jump into the spa routine feet first, and called the hotel's Beauty Spa to book a massage for myself, then a later one for my husband. A no-nonsense female voice asked (in English; on average, half the guests are American), "Shiatsu? Reflexology? Connective tissue? Lymph drainage?"

"How about a good old Swedish," I replied. And that's what I got, all right.

Donning a thick terry guest robe and slippers, hair piled sloppily high on my head, I padded down the back hall to the Beauty Spa feeling anything but. A glamorously made-up attendant, in white lab coat and heels, introduced me to my masseuse, Christina, a Swede who looked as if she might once have wrestled professionally. As soon as I plopped on the table, she went to work on me with what felt like the arm-twisting rope burns my brother used to torment me with as a kid.

I didn't want to complain, but I was afraid she got my request wrong. "Is that a Swedish massage technique you're using?" I asked between moans.

"Ya, Swedish! Ist good?"

Ist excruciating, I thought. I'm no sissy, but when she moved to my feet, I thought I'd weep with relief. I managed to relax into the pain, and by the time she got to my knotted shoulders, it felt like she'd grown an extra set of fingers.

When I hobbled out to the reception area where Brian awaited his turn, I whispered, "Get ready to rumble." Later, when we compared notes, he said, "I thought you said 'rumba.' I didn't realize you were trying to warn me."

But we had to agree: We left Christina's ministrations feeling really alive.

Later, while he blissed out in the steam and sauna rooms, I took a semiprivate 90-minute hatha yoga class from a wonderful teacher.

Though her English was as good as my German -- practically nil -- I easily fell in with the rhythms of her breathing. Accompanied as I was by the sounds of a Tibetan gong CD, a clock's tick-tock and bird song outside the window, the only block on my road toward nirvana was the snoring of my sole classmate.

And so it went for three sybaritic days and nights: morning walks along the alleeand into the Black Forest, afternoon swims in Brenner's immense indoor pool, then plenty of steaming and dousing.

We tried the Finnish sauna, which is dry, and the Irish bath with its damp, hot air. The "bio sauna" was my favorite. Damp air is heated, then infused with aromatics at five-minute intervals. During our stay the scent of the week was a heavenly, head-clearing blend of wild mountain herbs.

Our relaxing routine was interrupted only for the taking of meals. When we travel, we often give hotel restaurants a miss, but Brenner's Park has one of Germany's acclaimed chefs and an extensive menu with lighter "spa" choices, too, if you're so inclined. Brian and I took the middle road: poached turbot for me, sauteed lobster and risotto for him.

In the hotel's formal Park Restaurant -- during summer months, you can eat on the shady terrace overlooking the river, as we did -- dinner is a dress-up affair: jackets and ties for men, suitable evening wear for ladies.

We had room-service breakfast, a French-German compromise of croissants with Black Forest ham and cheeses. While many of the hotel guests followed the European custom of having the main meal at midday, we lunched lightly at beer gardens in town.

Evenings, many visitors like to check out the action at the Kurhaus (casino), a 10-minute stroll from the hotel. Opened by a Parisian in 1838, the casino is worth a look, even if you don't gamble, just for the opulence of its various salons. If you're tempted to play, remember, there's a $12,000 maximum on single bets.

Though most visitors to Baden-Baden aren't interested in tourist-style sightseeing, if you simply must leave the coddling confines of a spa hotel, you'll find plenty of diversions within a 10-mile (16-kilometer) radius. Well-bred sports like golf, tennis and horseback riding (and a few high-stakes, Ascot-formal races) are predictably popular.

Prized regional wines -- dry Baden whites and delicate reds -- may be sampled at Nagelsforster Hof, a 400-year-old wine tavern and shop just outside town. At one end of Lichtentaler Allee is a restored house where Johannes Brahms lived. There is a reputable art museum in town, and a toy museum. And a smattering of castles to visit, starting with Neues Schloss, with its gargoyles and pretty gardens.

And then, of course, there's my personal choice: shopping. Baden-Baden's old part of town is mainly a cobblestoned pedestrian zone lined with refined boutiques hawking designer wares. When I accidentally found myself in one such establishment, I fell hopelessly in love with a black cashmere halter top (no shoulders, no sleeves). Price: $650. Well, it's a great town for browsing.

We had come to Baden-Baden prepared for a literal old world; instead we were invigorated.

As checkout time approached, we were unusually reluctant to pack. The thought of leaving felt like being cast out of paradise.

Copyright © 1999, Lisa Marlowe
Distributed by Los Angeles Times Syndicate

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