Drunk on spa.

Drunk on spa.
Drunk on spa.
This is the Botanic Spa in Singapore. No, no, my mistake. This is a blog. What i meant to write was: These are some photos of the Botanic Spa in Singapore. The rest is video and too mammoth to email right now. As my friend, Renee From Reception very animatedly and proudly told me,  this puppy came number 6 in conde naste’s UK edition of Asia’s top spas. Which is a big call, because as we all know Asia offers so many superb spas… delicious open treatment areas and saucy marble outdoor showers, as well as an astonishing propensity with dark timber and shiny black pebbles and perhaps most importantly, exceptional therapists.

But after a wander around, I understood why Renee was so dingin’ proud. It. Was. Glorious. Massive. Billions of themed treatment ‘rooms’ set in gardens the Medici’s would envy. Black granite pools and deep cobalt tiled spas and roman style couple quarters with double outdoor showers, baths and spas. Women’s only pool area. Mud baths with the good stuff imported from our NZ friends. A grass maze for contemplation that socrates would’ve loved if he hadn’t drunk poison. Showers the Hilton would copy in a flash. Walking around in 856 percent humidity, I was drunk with amazement.(Different to being drunk on beer. Less slurring.) And then i got bored of looking and mentally storing adjectives about tiles and so i covered myself with mud. And it dried and felt tight but then it washed off and i felt soft. The end.

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