The Dead and the Luxurious

Location:
Jordan

Dead Sea Spas

By Dawn DelVecchio

The Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan is dry. I mean, drhhhy – even in the best of times. Southern Spain or the American Southwest are veritable jungles by comparison. Plus, it’s hot. My arrival coincided with a record-breaking wave that saw temperatures nearing 50 degrees. The heat was like a physical entity - something with substance to push against and feel squished by. This whole ‘but it’s a dry heat’ business went right out the window the first time I sat on my balcony and endured a ‘breeze’ akin to a glass blower’s furnace.

Mercifully, I was no backpacker in this parched and puckered land. Rather I was there to assess the nation's spas, the best of which sit at the Dead Sea – a body of water with 30% salinity, 40 metres below sea level. In other words: the saltiest and lowest point on earth. Not exactly the ideal formula for a supremely dry, hot spell.

Staying in five star resorts proved the perfect antidote under the circumstances. Oasis is the only word I can think of for these sanctuaries offering amenity aplenty, swimming pools and water features galore, luscious cuisine, a team of handsome staff whose reply to every request is ‘with a pleasure, madam’, and of course, those delightful spas.

As spas go, one could argue (and Jordanians certainly do) that this is the location of the planet's first. Mineral rich, high in oxygen and short on UV rays, the Dead Sea’s low-cation is ideal for treating such ailments as cystic fibrosis and psoriasis; and has been the site of healing retreats that began more than 3,000 years ago. Back in the 10th century bce, so says one legend, the Queen of Sheba had a thing for the Dead Sea’s mystical powers. In 4 bce, King Herod the Great sailed to a spot on its eastern shores to 'take in the waters' for a skin condition, while Cleopatra traveled from Egypt for a soak now and again. Even Aristotle wrote about its ‘remarkable waters’.

The facilities today are a step up from Cleo's time, with modern, purpose-built spas directly connected to big name resorts. So down I went to find out about the magical, mystical, medical properties of the Dead Sea while scrutinizing the shades of difference between one fine facility and the next. In ten days time I had been scrub-a-dub-dubbed with scented salts and wrapped in mud, plastic and heated blankets enough times to think myself at least well-heeled, if not actually healed. In between, the wining, dining and pool-side lizard lounging took up copious amounts of time and I nearly forgot the raison d’etre of the whole affair: the salty Sea.

On my final day, I dragged myself away from the infinity edge and down to the shore. I am glad I did for my dip now stands as one of the most unusual experiences of my 42 unusual years. The first thing I noticed was that the saline is visible – in an invisible sort of way. Billions of translucent strings sway and squiggle with any motion. These molecular threads make the water feel greasy; giving you the illusion that you are moisturizing when in fact, the opposite is true. I read that it’s possible to literally sit upright in such a dense solution. It’s true. In fact, it’s nearly impossible to do anything else. My limbs insistently rose to the surface until I’d force them back down. I tried to immerse myself up to my chin just to see if I could – no way. Genuine swimming was out of the question, and the thought of getting even a drop of this water in an eye was tantamount to a horror story.

After about 10 minutes of experimenting, I gave up and just sat there, wishing I had a paper to read. I let the minerals do their thing for awhile but poolside was calling. After a thorough rinse-off I hurried up the hill to find yet another divine young man ready to bring me my favourite drink ‘with a pleasure’. It was enough to tempt even Cleopatra away.