A Night at the Banya

The banya from the outside.

The aural version of this story has already been shared with our parents, and in a followup conversation with Fritz's dad, he told us it was a difficult story to retell when his friends ask how we are doing in Russia without making the two of us sound kind of weird.  The ritual of the Russian banya is unlike anything I have experienced in the US.  It was not long after arriving in Moscow that we started hearing about "the banya."  We were told we definitely had to go while we were in town.  Upon further investigation, I learned that the banya is the Russian version of what we would call a sauna.  This seemed like a fine idea, after all, we had already been to a sauna in Amsterdam.  How different could a Russian sauna be?  

After our picnic last week, we voiced our desires to experience a banya to our host, Nathan.  He immediately jumped on the idea, saying there was a group of his female colleagues who had been expressing interest in a co-ed banya.  Apparently the men in the office had been ritually going together and excluding the ladies.  So Nathan, being the ringleader that he is, organized an evening, renting a private room so we could all go together.  There are banya houses all over Moscow that you can pay to use, though I have learned that a banya is a common part of many Russian homes.  One of my friends at the pottery studio told me that her parents have a small banya at their house, so she does this nearly every weekend.  

Little wooden banya guy wearing a traditional banya hat and holding dried birch branches with a water ladle hanging from his waist.

Fritz and I arrived at the banya fashionably late only to find that, besides Nathan and his friend Peter, we were still the first ones there.  Just a reminder, Nathan is the American businessman working for the Canadian Chamber of Commerce in Russia who invited us to his company picnic a week ago.  Peter is another American who is currently writing a TV series about John Paul Jones, the "Father of the American Navy" who eventually obtained the title of admiral in the Imperial Russian Navy.  Nathan and Peter are working together on this project and the two of them hope to sell the script to Netflix or Hulu once it's finished.  Keep an eye out for it, and when the show airs, just remember that I once sat in a sauna with the guys who developed it.  

Before everyone else arrived, I scurried around and snapped a few photos of our setup.  I had a feeling photo opportunities would be limited based on the recommended banya attire (a white sheet).  

Common Room

The banya is traditionally built from wooden logs and the sauna is heated by a wood stove.  I believe private banyas are just little huts in the backyard without a common room like the one we had.  Above is a photo of the main sitting room which had a long L-shaped couch, chairs and two adjacent coffee table where we enjoyed a continuous stream of food and drinks for the duration of the evening.  

Wood Stove

Upstairs Loft

Questionable Bedrooms

There were additional rooms upstairs.  The larger room had a pool table.  Then there were two bedrooms off of that.  I suspect I know the intended purpose of these pillow-strew bedrooms, but our group was not the kind of crew who needed such a space.  The upstairs went unused as we spent the whole night downstairs, flowing between the common room, the sauna, and "the cauldron."

The Cauldron

Nathan told us the specially seasoned cauldron was a unique treat.  Floating in this suspended hot tub was an array of bundled pine branches and what looked like jumbo teabags filled with assorted herbs to give the hot water a natural, spiced aroma.  

Our outfits for the evening - everyone gets a sheet and a towel.

Little by little, the other guests trickled in.  There were 10 of us in total - 5 men and 5 women.  We were a happy mix of American, Canadian, French-Canadian, British, and Russian.  After changing into our banya attire, we began the event with a traditional toast of vodka shots to the first co-ed banya for this improbable group.

After chatting for a bit and exchanging some general introductions, the "banya master" (that was the title Nathan gave him) entered and provided some instructions on how to proceed.  We started by sitting in the hot sauna (sheets on) as a warm-up before the real event began.  Inside the smaller wooden hut, headed by the wood stove, were two levels of cedar benches where we all took a seat.  A tower of stones was assembled in front of the fire.  Small ladles of water were periodically poured over the stones, where it immediately evaporated to add moisture to the dry air.  The sweat came quickly, though we were told this sauna was mild compared to other banyas that were so hot the participants feared their blood might start boiling.  In these more intense saunas, wearing felt hats is essential to prevent over-heating.  These hats were available, but only the banya master ended up wearing one.

Once we all had an initial sauna, we took turns going in one by one for the real treatment.  After seeing one of the other women go in and come out with a positive report, I decided it was safe to take my turn.  During this stage, the banya master instructs you to remove your sheet and lay facedown on the cedar bench.  He gives you a bunch of wet pine branches as a pillow and then places another bundle of wet branches on top of your head.  This might sound a bit strange but it was actually my favorite part of the ordeal.  The wet branches felt cool and refreshing in comparison to the dry, sweltering sauna.  Plus, inhaling that fresh pine smell was heavenly.  While you are lying on your stomach, the banya master, dressed in a short towel and his felt hat, enters with two bundles of wet birch branches, one held in each hand.  With these he fans the air, causing a convection effect that pulls the heat down to maximize the amount of sweat streaming out of your body.  Then the whipping begins.

Using the birch branches, the banya master rhythmically whips your naked, sweaty backside from your shoulders down to your feet then back up again.  After a few minutes of this, he instructs you to sit up on the elevated bench with your hands behind your head so he can whip the front of your body.  This position is followed by holding your hands out in front so he can get your arms.  I realize this ritual might sound a bit painful, and if I'm being honest, a few of the strikes stung a little, but it mostly just felt good.

I had to get over the fact that this was probably the weirdest thing I have ever done in my birthday suit, but once I put that behind me, I have to say it was really nice.  The birch branch sauna whipping is meant to open up all your pores.  As soon as the whipping is over, you jump into a cold pool.  Normally I would hate this idea, but my desire to correctly do the banya trumped my reluctance to shock my body with cold after heat.  I jumped in.  Pine needles and leafy debris were washed off of me as I took a sharp breath in.  Again, I was surprised to discover how good this felt and any lingering sting from the whipping dissipated in the cold water.  The banya master instructed me to swim to the opposite end of the little pool where I could now climb out and enter the aromatic cauldron to conclude the ritual.

Now that the logistics have been explained, I'll shed some light on some of the more interesting social aspects of the night.  As I mentioned, I was the first woman to arrive.  I remembered from our sauna experience in Amsterdam that the most difficult part of these things is getting out of your clothes.  Even though I knew we were all going to be naked at various points of the evening, it's still a challenge to actually remove your clothing in front of strangers.  So I didn't.  I chickened out and went to the bathroom to change into my sheet.  I expected the other women to do something similar when they arrived, but when they all came out of the bathroom wearing a bathing suit underneath their sheet I started to feel a little bit insecure that I was the only woman who would be doing this thing in the nude.  The problem was quickly remedied when the banya master said the ritual could not be done in a bathing suit.  Therefore, no suits allowed for those who wanted whipping in the banya and dipping in the cauldron.

It is said that the sauna is the "great equalizer" precisely for the "no clothes" rule.  We humans ascribe much to how we dress, but at the banya, that status symbol gets stripped away and everyone is no more and no less than some skin wrapped around a mind.  At one point there were 6 of us sitting in the cauldron discussing topics including: ping pong, the American Revolution, neurological processing, foreign language training, Vladimir Putin, prostitution, Cold War economics, Copenhagen, employment in Russia, and Netflix.   Little by little, we each set aside our insecurities about being naked, and relaxed into an evening of rich conversation and general enjoyment.

I think for many, the endless flow of vodka, beer, and a potent concoction made from horseradish helped to soften the inhibitions.  Toast after toast was made, each person being put on the spot at least once to dedicate some words to the evening.  We toasted to the banya, to friendship, to the unexpected, to humility, to women,  to each other, to the future... the list goes on.  To complement the drinking, the food came in continuous streams as well.  We started with rounds of cheese, meat, and raw vegetables.  Then came a round of khachapuri.  This is by far the best thing I have eaten in Russia.  It is a traditional Georgian dish consisting of bread wrapped around cheese and often served with a raw egg on top.

Khachapuri from a Georgian restaurant during our first week in Moscow.

When Fritz first told me about the raw egg thing, I gave him a polite "no thank you,"  but traveling abroad is an opportunity to leave your reservations at the door, and I'm so glad I did.  Georgian bread, cheese, and raw eggs are delicious!  The khachapuri we had at the banya did not have a raw egg on it, but it was still very tasty.  We also had ramekins of baked mushrooms in cheese before the main dish arrived - platters pilled high with meat, fish, and grilled vegetables.  I wish I had more photos of this night, but snapping pictures seemed inappropriate considering the costumes.  So my written account is the best I can do to document the memories of this exotic evening.  

That's the story.  I don't know if it sounds weird now that it's all here in writing, though I imagine parts of it do sound a bit strange.  Being on the other side of it, I think the whole thing was pretty great and one more experience that Fritz and I can add to our collection of strange and wonderful memories in our travels together.  It's amazing how brave I can be when I'm doing these things with my favorite person.  I don't know if I would have gone for this on my own, but as long as Fritz and I stick together, my willingness to just "go for it" increases exponentially.  Everything is better when we are together.