Hot soothing waters swirled around me as I bobbed up and down next to some Speedo-clad Eastern European gentlemen. I scanned the crowd for my husband, who’d gone to arrange for our massages. We were partaking of the famed mineral baths in Budapest, but not at the tourist-friendly hotel versions. We rode the Metro out to the edge of the Pest side of the city to Szechenyi Furdo and fumbled our way through the Byzantine process of buying the (incredibly cheap) tickets, changing, and locking up our belongings — after pausing outside the dramatic yellow buildings outside to snap photos. We made our way through the progressively hotter baths inside until we worked our way to the outdoor pool, a fantastic confection in which white-haired locals played chess. The blue of the healing waters perfectly matched the luminous sky. Fatigue and jet lag slipped away. We took our Hungarian massages and glided out, slightly bruised but buoyant. The next day we scratched our sightseeing plans for a return visit to the baths. Who needs a park full of communist statues when you can steep in mineral water?