A couple of girlfriends and I went to the banya, the Russian baths. Now that we've seen other covered with coffee grounds we feel much closer.
We arrived, rinsed, did test runs in the sauna and steam room. We were admonished for not wearing hats. Everyone wears these cute little felt elf hats, if you don't, the heat will ruin your hair, says the banya attendant. I don't get how your hair isn't getting just as hot since you are trapping the heat in the hat, but fine. I love felt, hats and anything elf-ish, I don't know why I'm resisting. Must buy hat. I now have a great excuse for my hair. I went in the Russian banya without a hat.
After the sauna we had our choice of ways to shock our bodies back to a normal temperature: hop in a frigid bath, or pull a rope to tip a bucket of cold water over yourself, or go for a swim in the pool. The pool water was chilly, but not impossibly cold, it felt refreshing to swim under fountains in the sun filled room. Then we scrubbed, not with designer products, but with a homemade coffee ground scrub offered by a very nice Russian. It looked like the the worst spray-on tan ever and I smelled like an espresso for the rest of day, but three days later, my cuticles are still nice, so I think they may be onto something.
Since the process is sauna, plunge, scrub, rinse, repeat, we were due to go back in the sauna. This time, the banya attendant, wearing two hats, locked the door behind us. She opened the oven with a horrific metal-on-metal screech, she poured water inside which made the room get hotter. She flung ladle-fuls of eucalyptus scented water around the room. Then she waved a towel over her head–Pittsburg Steeler fan style–drawing the hot air down. Everyone sits in silence, in the dim sauna, wearing their elf hats. Try not to have a giggle attack.
She stokes the oven again, then dips a bouquet of evergreen branches in water and shakes Chirstmas-tree scented water over all of us. It feels like a sacrament. We are allowed to whisper "thank you." The hotter the room gets, the more giggly and claustrophobic I get. I have to finally just close my eyes and mentally watch a Youtube video of Anodyne. The banya attendant waves the towel around one more time, driving the temperature up higher–the blast of heat sort of reminds me opening the front door in Niamey–she pauses dramatically, and unlocks the sauna door.
Whew. Pull the rope of the bucket and let icy water splash over you. Do not scream.
We didn't want to miss out on the experience of being beaten with branches, which is suppose to open the pores and be part of the theraputic banya experience. Buying a bunch of branches, the attendant asked me, "Oak or birch leaves?" "Which are softer?" was my answer. So then my friends and I beat on each other with oak leaves. It feels pretty much how you would expect it to feel, wet and leafy.
Back to the curtained-off the dressing rooms where you can order pots of tea, and I've heard, in the men's facility, vodka. We walked home in a blissed-out state, even without the vodka.
twenty-something years of "what have you been up to?" 
Leave a reply to MoscowMom Cancel reply