No wonder the Ottomans were determined to possess this area, it's a geothermal gold mine. Every town we pass seems to have thermal pools. None of them anything like the ancient Ottoman one we visited in Budapest, but all promising a range of medical benefits from these healing springs.
In order to maximize the placebo effects of these spas I have been remarking on how I can almost feel the restorative qualities of the waters. "You know that is complete horseshit," Gord mutters with a look on his face that instantly sabotages my goal. Healing or not we have been enjoying our dips. It's hot these days so the cooler pools are the ones we are seeking out.
Today we are staying in a bungalow right in the outdoor spa complex. The main pool is a disturbing brown color but that is consistent with the general Soviet holiday camp vibe of the entire complex.
The canteen restaurant here could be right out of the Soviet Era. It was cheap and all you could eat, but with no attention to decor or hospitality. Three older unsmiling women continued to shovel food into the buffet trays. As we are hungry cyclists we managed to overlook the indifferent institutional setting as we refilled our plates. Some knowledge of the Hungarian language would have helped me avoid a rather large helping of liver stew, and no Mom, I didn't eat it.