Vichy Thermes, or how I managed to fracture my rib during a two-day stay at a famous French spa

I figured that it would be wrong for me to spend a year exploring the French alternative medicine scene without personally undergoing "the cure" at one of France's many thermal spas. At a Thalasso salon a few weeks ago, I picked up some pamphlets from the Vichy representative, and I was instantly sold. For a not-unreasonable price, I could spend two days/two nights in the resort town and undergo a variety of soins at Vichy Les Domes. I made my reservation, booked my train tickets, and got ready for another insolite (unusual) adventure in provincial France.



The best thing about Vichy is the architecture... wrought iron pavillions and covered walkways, elaborate Art Deco, Neogolithic and Neoclassical buidlings... the image above is of the Vichy Opera House-Casino-Palais de Congrès. Below is the Hall des Sources, a glorified watering hole where individuals with a medical prescription or subscription to the Vichy cure come everyday to drink the reknowned waters of the Vichy Célestin spring. Architecturally, not much has changed since the park's construction during the Napoleonic era - hence, in my mind, Vichy's charm.


So what about the salon, and the fractured rib?! My first day of soins was lovely... being wrapped in regional mud, massaged with a high-power shower jet, immersed in a tub of vichy water which cycled through foot to neck massage via jacuzzi-like jets of water, and lastly another massage, with essential oils, aimed at energy points in my feet, legs, and arms. The second day was not as exciting. To preface, I had injured my rib a few days earlier and was avoiding sleeping on that side of my body; I had attended samba class back in Paris without pain, and was thinking that muscle soreness was starting to taper away. The aqua-aerobics and pilates classes scheduled for my second day at Vichy DID NOT HELP THE SITUATION. Nor did the under-shower massage that I recieved from a masseuse with fingers so pruned from the water that I wondered how she could do this all day, every day and not develop gills.

I made one last trip to the original Célestin fountain, filled as many water bottles as I could carry with me back to Paris, and made a quick escape involving jumping onto a train for which I did not have a ticket (and passing through 10 cars in order to find the controlleur). As I arrived back in Paris, greeted by the madness of a train station on a Friday afternoon, I was reminded again how much I love coming home to the big city - and how I would never trade that noisy, peopled atmosphere for some lesser value like space, or tranquility... which is great, because my next hometown is going to be...(*drumrole please*)... NEW YORK! For those of you not yet in the know, I will be attending Columbia College of Physicians & Surgeons, and moving to NY around mid-August. Woot!