It was perhaps inevitable that west Bohemia, the epicenter of beer country and home to nearly 40 mineral springs, would give rise to what's being touted as the World's First Beer Spa.

The mere notion of a beer spa sounds like something that was hatched between buddies during a night of heavy drinking. As it turns out, it was. The director of the Chodovar Brewery in Chodová Planá, west Bohemia, and a spa operator came up with the idea while tossing back a few one night nearly a year ago.

Housed in the brewery hotel U Sládka, the beer spa's opening created enough of a stir to draw me three hours by train west of Prague in March, the week the spa opened.

A Czech-German settlement since the 14th century, Chodová Planá is not the easiest place to get to. It has a train station, but trains rarely stop there. It's easier and cheaper to take the train to Mariánské Lázně, then catch a bus or taxi 9 kilometers (5.6 miles) south to the little town of 1,794.

After checking into my room at the hotel, I was wet, tired and cold from waiting for the bus for hours in the rain, and looking forward to a soak in my very first beer spa. But Mojmír, the hotel manager, informed me that a photographer and a nude model were there to shoot some photos in the spa for the tabloid Blesk. He asked the model if she minded me watching, and he regretted to inform me that unfortunately she did.

I was a little put off by the announcement — not because I couldn't watch her, but because she didn't look like someone I would clamor to see naked in the first place.

The nude model seemed to fit with the image the hotel is cultivating. Promotional photos of the beer spa show two young women nestled in the foam and looking at the viewer suggestively. "Artistic" photographs of naked women with spirals of barley seeds along their breasts and nether regions lined the hallway to my room. The photos seemed to have been shot in the hotel, and I spent too long trying to figure out exactly where.

Beer therapy

U Sládka opened in March, and there are still some kinks to be worked out. The lights went out three or four times during my stay. But the room was comfortable and, at 1,020 Kč ($43.50) for a single room (1,500 Kč for a double) at peak rates, cheaper than the more heavily visited Mariánské Lázně.

While waiting for the Blesk model to finish in the spa, I was treated to a tour of the Chodovar brewery. It was established in 1573, but beer was brewed there before that time.

My two friendly guides, Sabina and Markéta, showed me more than I wanted to know about the art of brewing. Ever since a field trip to a pork factory in 1989, I have had an aversion to witnessing how my food is prepared. The brewery tour only reinforced that feeling.

After the tour, I was led down to the spa, which could pass for an underground pub were it not for the large stainless steel tubs with beer taps arcing over them.

The water was oxygen-enriched and tasted of iron. Because it comes from a spring 3 kilometers away, the government only allows the spa the equivalent of 60 baths per day.

Klára, the affable spa attendant, added seven liters of dark Chodovar beer and two muddy mixtures of hops and yeast to give my bath a foamy head.

Klára left and I slid into the broth. Immediately the bubbles from the water floated against and around me. I tried to relax, but I was a bit worried that I was soaking in the same tub as the dodgy Blesk model, and I had unconsciously tensed up as a result.

The vitamins and sugars in the brew are supposed to help fight diabetes and ease pain caused by varicose veins — neither of which I have. But whether it was the mixture I was soaking in or "Rock-a-Bye Baby" playing in the background, I was soon as relaxed as I had been in a long time.

Sleepy town

I was planning to nap that afternoon, but after my beer spa treatment I felt rejuvenated, so I wandered around Chodová Planá.

A mere 8 kilometers from the German border, it is a place where the cultural overlap is readily apparent — Štefans live next door to Schröders. But beyond the brewery and spa, there's not much to see.

A wonderfully derelict church, Narození sv. Jana Křtitele, is the centerpiece of the village, but it was bolted shut and appeared to only open on the Sabbath. In the grandstands near the football field, four teenagers stared in silence as I walked by. Two men and a woman watched me watch them slaughter a pig behind their ratty house.

The town's virtues are in what it has left untouched. There is a pristine copse a short walk east of the main highway. Zámecký park to the west has long, flat nature trails leading to an old Jewish cemetery. I would have lingered on the paths had they not been soggy from the downpour.

The village has a handful of potravinys and three restaurants, including the Vena, where the most expensive item is the 100 Kč steak.

The Pivovarská restaurace offers serviceable, if not memorable, meals at middling prices. While I was there, the frazzled staff rushed to serve a busload of Germans who picked their ears with the butts of their forks.

There is a hint of nightlife in Chodová Planá, with a few pubs and herna bars. I chose not to sample the Disco Caribik, which from my hotel window looked especially empty for a Friday night — and in spite of the bright neon sign, not the least bit tropical.

It's clear why Chodová Planá has not yet made it into the guidebooks. But if you're looking to relax and get away from the throngs of tourists in Prague and the spa towns in west Bohemia, Chodová Planá is the place.