I find a woman and ask. The men seem to turn away from me. I take my key and towel into the changing room, praying for it to be empty. The hip, friendly clientele, dim lighting and pleasant courtyard make this Finnish sauna the stylish spot to go starkers. A plate of orange slices is passed around, and I feel at one with my new naked pals. I had expected at least the people in reception to be wearing clothes. I grab my towel and pad into the shower area, taking my place between two men.
Small, low-tech, but popular with well-heeled locals.
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Will Hide goes along for the ride. Popular with the oldies. A woman comes in and starts pulling on her bra and adjusting her breasts, relaxed as anything. So I undress, blushing furiously, and cower by a locker. An Amayana spa with it all — pools, steam rooms, saunas, tanning rooms, as well as an outdoor pool, which the hardy can try in winter. I dare myself to face outwards, so that my whole front is visible to the room. Until recently, the idea of sweating it out in a row of naked Germans seemed impossibly weird.