As a devotee of an imagined old-fashioned Britishness, I don’t wear shorts unless I’m abroad, and I disagree with the existence of sandals. I mention this because I want it on the record, before describing the afternoon I spent at Vabali Spa Berlin, that I wasn’t the obvious candidate for a textile-free spa. I went out of professional curiosity, wanting to know whether places like this were actually relaxing, or just expensive ways to feel awkward. I arrived knowing what it involved, and wasn’t remotely prepared anyway.

What They Tell You at the Door

Vabali is a Balinese-inspired spa complex near Berlin’s Hauptbahnhof, with ten saunas, steam rooms, pools, a garden and a restaurant. The receptionist makes the nature of the visit clear before you proceed: swimwear isn’t permitted anywhere in the complex. Nor are phones or cameras. Robes and towels come with entry. They’ve had this conversation before, probably many times that morning, and the tone is matter-of-fact.

I clung to that robe in the locker room the way a nervous swimmer clings to the pool ladder. Knowing what’s coming and being ready for it aren’t the same thing. The robe wasn’t going to last. I knew that and held on to it anyway.

The Indoor Pool and the Problem of Being Six Foot Three

The main pool room is the unavoidable test. You have to pass through it to reach the saunas, and it’s open plan, light-filled, with nothing to hide behind. Being six feet three makes that worse. I was, in the technical sense, conspicuous.

My solution was to wait until the pool cleared, then give myself a task: get in and swim. Having a specific thing to do helps when the alternative is standing there. I’d recommend it. The robes are required when moving between areas, though some guests had clearly decided that rule didn’t apply to them and moved freely without a second thought.

The Saunas

Vabali’s saunas and steam rooms are spread across two floors and a garden area, and I tried several. They run from a gentle 113°F laconium to a garden sauna at 203°F. In the hotter ones, your mind is fully occupied with the heat, and the self-consciousness doesn’t stand much of a chance.

The restaurant requires a robe, which is a relief. The menu is Asian-Mediterranean and the food is good. For twenty minutes I sat at a table eating ramen like a person living a normal life. It’s a relaxing break from the relaxing break.

What Happens When Nobody Is Looking

At some point in the second hour, I noticed that nobody was looking at me. They simply weren’t interested. The other guests were there for the same reason I was: to stop thinking for a few hours, and they were getting on with it in a way that made my earlier tension feel slightly ridiculous.

The anxiety had no audience, and without one, it struggled to maintain its grip.

It felt like exposure therapy, only rather more literal than usual. Stay in the situation long enough and the alarm eventually stops because nothing bad is happening.

I spent five hours at Vabali. By the time I left, I felt noticeably calmer than when I arrived. Walking through Berlin to my home afterward, I had a kind of serene, easy feeling that’s supposed to be the outcome of a spa day and often isn’t.

I haven’t been back, and I accept that says more about me than about Vabali. It’s a beautiful place, and it got to me despite my best efforts. The self-consciousness you carry in is yours. Nobody else is doing much with it. That was the surprise: not that I became a clothes-free spa convert, but that the awkwardness faded far faster than I expected.

[Note: I visited Vabali independently and paid the standard day rate.]