o shade to the Improv Centre, but it looks like things are finally heating up on Granville Island.The sign is barely visible next to the black gates. Real luxury is quiet, they say; this is a wayfinding whisper. My husband punches in an access code and the door swings open to reveal an underlit oasis. A wooden walkway and a trickling water soundscape lead us to the reception.
At Circle, we shower up and step into the moodily lit space, its walls lined with slats of warm wood. A brisk December breeze sneaks in through an opening in the ceiling, which frames the night sky. Into a muscle-melting, handcrafted cedar hot tub we go. As I bob in the decadent, toasty water, my thoughts wander beyond my personal shortcomings and head over to the Math Department of my brain, where I start to tally up just how many circuit spas I’ve been to in the past calendar year. Six.
At Circle, a hypnotic AI voice suddenly fills the air, beckoning us through a door at the end of the room to the “WellPod.” We leave our respective bodies of water behind to follow its instructions unquestioningly. Inside, walls of pink salt bricks are lit from behind. The glow flickers along gently in time with music that can only be described as “haunted flutes” .
Even as I’m shocked by the hot heat and the icy cold, Nordic spas have turned into my favourite lousy-weather activity. Given their increasing presence across our city, I’m not the only one who’s into a little self-care . It’s an event that’s as inclusive or intimate as you want it to be. Book out the secret spa behind and bring along your whole rec soccer team for a little team-building shvitz .