Széchenyi Spa: Fast Track Entry Tickets with Premium Day Spa Access and Private Cabin

We bought premium tickets for 76 euros per person. There were two of us. We paid 152 euros for the two of us. For that money, we received two bathrobes, two towels, two tiny plates with fruit slices, and two cocktails. In my opinion, the cocktails were average in quality; they could have been better. Towels and bathrobes aren’t a perk—they should be provided as standard. If you book a hotel room (even if it’s a 3-star), bathrobes, slippers, and towels are included by default, and that’s not considered a luxury. Accordingly, in these bathhouses, towels and bathrobes shouldn’t be a luxury and shouldn’t come at an extra cost. For 152 euros, they could have cut up more fruit instead of just 10 pieces on a plate. They claimed that our tickets included access to some kind of daytime lounge. The lounge turned out to be a bar on the second floor with sofas and its own menu, where, in principle, absolutely anyone can go up and buy whatever they want for their own money. And what exactly is our privilege for having paid triple the price for premium comfort tickets—it’s unclear. The pools had some kind of debris at the bottom and a clearly uncleaned bottom covered in a chalky film. The water itself is unattractive; there’s no lighting, no bubbling, or any kind of hydromassage. Just a pool of still, gray water where fifty people sit and chat. Sitting there is just plain boring and not particularly interesting or pretty. In Moscow, at Thermoland or any ordinary water park, it’s much more interesting and colorful. By the way, the water has some strange smell—either sulfur or some kind of sourness. Maybe I’m missing something, of course, and this is some kind of therapeutic or healing water, but a fact is a fact, and the smell isn’t particularly pleasant. A regular pool smells better with chlorine. I certainly understand that these are royal baths—all the luxury, history, and whatnot—but I want to know what I paid for. And I never really figured that out. If I’d paid for a regular ticket, which is three times cheaper, I would’ve gotten exactly the same thing I got by paying for a premium ticket, which is three times more expensive. In short, Russians planning to visit this place: Don’t buy a pass for more than 4 hours—you won’t be able to sit through it anyway and will leave on your own after 3–4 hours because it’ll be boring, and don’t overpay for any VIP tickets—you won’t see any VIP treatment there. It’ll be exactly the same as for visitors with regular cheap tickets, just “two bigger oranges.” By the way, the selection of saunas is poor. There’s only one hammam, and it’s always packed—you won’t be able to get in. In the salt cave, the soothing silence is shattered by a sharp, sudden sound of hissing steam bursting out from somewhere in the ceiling, and just as you start to relax and doze off, you literally jump up and try to figure out what’s going on and what’s hissing and sizzling. Bottom line: there’s some kind of debris floating in the pools and some kind of grime on the bottom. No lighting, no hydrotherapy or jacuzzi, no decorations that would catch your eye and make you want to come back again and again. Limited selection of saunas. There’s only one hammam, and it’s always packed with people. It’s unclear what the difference is between the cheap and expensive tickets: a tiny plate of fruit slices and a glass of a “so-so” cocktail, along with a robe and a towel—thanks, but for 150 euros, you could offer something more worthwhile for the guests.

The warmer pools and the outdoor pools were fine. The signage inside is very poor; absolutely everyone was wandering all over the building trying to find the restrooms. There was no hot water in the water dispensers, it was crowded, and people weren't respecting the quiet areas.

We weren't sure what to expect when we arrived. The staff were really helpful and made sure we knew everything we needed to. After collecting our robes and towels we had an absolute ball. Loved it and will be back again!