Despite rising ticket prices the baths barely break even and the city is unlikely to be able to raise this kind of money without eventually having to privatise some of the spa facilities. This is a thorny subject. The baths are part of Budapest's identity and their egalitarian tradition is a local point of pride. But for now it's still a case of anyone and everyone goes, and often the very tattiness of the facilities abets the sensation, not just of lolling peacefully in the waters, but also of floating gently back in time. For anyone without much command of Hungarian, entering the baths for the first time can be a baffling experience.
Lengthy menus offer such treats as ultra-sound or a pedicure as well as massage.
Instructions in Hungarian, German and Russian explain that customers can stay for an hour and a half, although this rule is rarely enforced. The routine is similar in all the Turkish baths, though it varies at the mixed facilities. After buying a ticket you enter a warren of passageways, the entrance to which is guarded by a white-clothed attendant. The ones for women have an apron-like addition that supposedly covers the breasts, but few women bother to wear them at all. Men tend to keep theirs on, though, sometimes swivelling them round to cover their behinds, to prevent scorched buttocks on the wooden sauna seats.