IN HOT WATER
I am lying on a bed of bubbles in a Jacuzzi the size of an Olympic swimming pool alongside Lake Garda, jiggling like a mound of jelly in a Golden Arrow bus and thinking… absolutely nothing.
The hot water and onslaught of bubbles has sent me into a blissful state of thoughtlessness, free of any longing or desire, barely conscious. Iʼm simply a quivering piece of meat with two eyes, a nose and a pasta hole. A lump of perfect lake-side contentment, Iʼm surrounded by other bathers in blue swimming caps and smug smiles who share in my crazed delight. They float past me serenely while classic rock plays softly on the speakers.
The outside pool has a number of stations. Apart from the hydrotherapy bed Iʼm draped over like an autopsied crab, there are the jets shaped like swan necks, aromatised rainbow showers, whirlpools and vascular circuits. If I were able to summon the energy to move, I could visit the indoor and outdoor saunas, steam baths, mud treatment rooms, multisensory relaxation areas and massage rooms. But I canʼt even muster the energy to think of moving.
At the poolʼs edge, bathers in white robes recline on loungers vacantly staring at the storybook scene. The thermal baths, or as the Italians call them, are just a towelʼs toss from Lake Gardaʼs waters, Italyʼs
