Old Archive

Dead Easy at the Dead Sea

By Todd Pitock

The Dead Sea is the lowest point on earth, and it features low humidity, no air pollution, and high temperatures -- all of which, according to experts, are good for you. Here, sulphur, mud and chemical extracts that sound suspiciously like things to avoid turn out to be extremely tonic, and people come from around the world for intensive pampering and treatment of diseases like psoriasis and rheumatoid arthritis.

The western shore is an Israeli Wellville -- Jordan has one spa, with plans to open others -- and except for the Ein Gedi Spa, which is run by a local kibbutz, the spas are linked to five-star hotels clustered in a short strip along the coast.

Spa guests walk around in robes, thongs, and bathing caps, with towels draped around their shoulders. There is a languid aura of determined relaxation. The light filtering through tinted windows is hazy and gray, and people lay in weighty sleep on chaise longues or float in slow motion in an indoor pool that's filled with a combination of Dead Sea and fresh water. Cranio Sacral Therapy, Watsu, and aromatic massages are among the treatments, and scholarly papers in publications like Clinical and Experimental Rheumatology and the Journal of American Dermatology have shown that, medically speaking, it is not hocus-pocus.

But mainly it is the mud that is unique to the region and it is the blackface photos that make everyone's travel album. So, during a recent visit, I opted to get packed in black sludge, and to the treatment I went.

A Russian woman directed me to a humid room without windows. She didn't speak English, but indicated through hand gestures that she wanted me to undress. I took off my shirt and sneaks, leaving only my shorts. She indicated the shorts would also have to go, despite my attempts to explain I that wasn't wearing anything underneath.

Nudity apparently being part of the routine, I didn't want to cover up with my hands or put up any other kind of inappropriate resistance that would make me even more uncomfortable. I tried to stand at an angle.

The Russian wasn't impressed by my modesty. She laid me down on a table, reached into a bucket, and pawed 18 kilograms of the hot black sludge on my back, arms, hands, legs, and feet. It felt hot and squishy. She wrapped me in a sheet like a burrito, dimmed the lights, put on music, and left the room. I inhaled deeply through my nostrils and exhaled through my parted lips. I tried to put out of mind Freudian interpretations of mud therapy.

Soon the mud started to make me sweat, and the sweat rolling down the side of my face and head started to itch on one side. With my hands bound, all I could do was close my eyes and meditate the itch away. After that failed, I tried flinging my head against the padded board. Unfortunately, the itch was up near my temple and my neck couldn't quite make the turn without actually taking my head off.

The Russian woman returned after a few attenuated minutes carrying a paper towel. I sighed and grinned as she started dabbing my forehead and eyebrows. I wanted to tell her about the itch, but I couldn't summon from memory the words in Hebrew. I was not only a paraplegic but as good as mute, but I anticipated relief when she began patting my face and my head.

She somehow managed to miss the itch. I tried signaling her by jerking my eyes toward four o'clock. She looked at the wall curiously, shrugged, and walked out. I started to giggle insanely. She poked her head back in with a look halfway between a grimace and a dazed smile, then shuffled out of the room again.

Eventually it ended, thank God.

"I hope you enjoyed the treatment," the receptionist said as I left.

A little later, I ran into three others in my group who forewent the mud for aromatic massages. "So," they asked, "how was it?" They looked serene and drowsy, as though they'd either just woken up or were about to fall asleep. I didn't want to complain or to lie, and they looked tranquil enough not to care.

"Oh," I said, "it was pretty muddy." I felt like they wanted me to tell them more. But I had nothing more to say. "You'll have to try it next time."

SIDEBAR: WHAT MUD AND SULPHUR DO
Aristotle, Pliny the Elder, and other ancient sages believed in the therapeutic value of Dead Sea byproducts. "[It] is useful for the cure of men's bodies," Flavius Josephus wrote in the first century. Of course, since none of the ancients were exporters, their endorsements should perhaps mean something.

So, the new knowledge is not that the products work but how. "They restore mineral depletion," says Abbie Rathbone, a spokesperson for Ahava, an Israeli company which offers a range of Dead Sea products. "They break through the natural electro-chemical barrier in the skin and rehydrate the cells."

Mud has the added benefit of retaining constant heat. Anyone with stiff or sore muscles should feel immediate relief. People seeking medical treatment -- such as for psoriasis -- require a six week program.