Boca Raton Resort and Club, on Florida’s East Coast, about an hour’s drive north of Miami, spreads out over 356 choice acres.
Though the rules don’t require it, this is a dress-up place, where, uncommon for most of Florida, people tend to look as spiffy as the stylish furniture and wall coverings.
Inside, men seem to think that neckties are resort wear, and even the skimpiest women’s attire at the beach appears as if an entire afternoon was invested in its purchase.
My goal was to get naked.
Like most other top resorts, Boca Raton, which is part of Hilton’s Waldorf Astoria group, has golf, beach and dining attributes – I tasted my first ice cream with basil – but I had only a day to loll around and was drawn by the ads to the expansive Spa Palazzo.
Boca Raton’s spa is one of the country’s largest, including its own outdoor swimming pool. Better yet, the centerpiece is a set of opulent wet rooms called termes, which are well equipped hot baths for women and for men (See picture at top).
Preparing moody tissues for massage
Ritual baths are as old as civilized man. You don’t see many of them in North America. So, I signed up for the Spa Palazzo’s Ritual Bath, followed by a deep tissue massage. A spa desk lady said that the bath would prepare my moody tissues for the massage.
Mood preparation was the key from the start.
I arrived 45 minutes before the bath to shower and relax – first in the Great Hall, a high-ceilinged co-ed waiting room with fireplace, followed by hanging around a men’s lounge, where I ditched my white robe for two towels, one for sitting on as I moved about from lounge chair to benches in rooms of various temperatures and humidity.
My bath hour melted away.
Led through the process by an attendant, I began in the breathing room, sitting on a bench for 10 minutes in 100 degrees, then into a hotter and wetter sauna for 10 more.
Disposing of dead skin, tasting sweet sorbet
Next was 10 minutes in a steam room, followed by 5 minutes in a serious jet shower that worked over those moody muscles, before sliding into a tub for 15 minutes with a loofah rub for disposing of dead skin, a facial cleanser and a taste of a sweet sorbet.
A last jet body blasting ended the ritual, which I was in no hurry to end, as I marveled at muscles that had changed moods, and a mind that was mostly mush.
I’m certain that the massage was magnificent, though I must acknowledge I missed much of it, sleeping away whatever rough edges remained in my delightful afternoon at Spa Palazzo. The resort is known for fine food, but I don't remember where I dined or what I ate.
David Molyneaux writes regularly about traveling, cruising news, tips and trends at TravelMavenBlog.com. His cruise trends column appears monthly in U.S. newspapers and on other Internet sites. He is editor of TheTravelMavens.com.
