For $15

You get access to the spa for as long as you want. For $2 you get a scrubby sponge. For $30 you get a Korean lady in black bra and panties giving you the scrubdown of your life. And so it goes at the Olympic Korean Spa. Oh, there is more on the menu--a full body waxing at $120, for example--and I hear the facials are of particular note--but honestly, the $17 is all you really need to spend to feel rejuvenated, transported and healed.

It's different from the zen Japanese and fancy schmancy Burke-Williams with-their-cucumber-water spas. It's not about aesthetics. In fact, it's not really even about relaxing. It's sorta about putting your body through the ringer. It's about cleansing. It's about invigorating. And it's about healthy glowing skin. We could call it an exercise in extremities. Slough off the skin. Burn yourself hot. Then freeze yourself cold. It's a spa for the masses. We're talking proletarian, women of all sizes, share-your-plastic-washing-stool-and-bowl-with-your-neighbor kind of place. There is even a utilitarian restaurant for those who enter or exit hungry.

I'd recommend starting with the charcoal oxygen room. A quick bath at the communal, um, trough, for lack of a better word. Jump into the dark and mysterious Mugworts tea bath. Plunge into the cold dip. Warm up in the wet charcoal sauna with jade floor and burning herbs. Slip in next door to the dry stone sauna. Rinse. Lather. And repeat.

Sigh. I could do that for hours. I could practice this ritual daily. But tonight we arrived near closing, so with the hour I had, I made the best of it, frantically jumping between baths and showers and spas. Chances are, though, when you do leave, you will be leaving like I did, with a jump in your step, cheeks all aflush and, like the sign says, replenished.