It's not what you think. Ok, it's exactly what you think. Jen and I ventured down to Brooklyn this weekend and hooked up with some Russian friends Gleb and Kate, who we met and got to know on our honeymoon in Mexico 2 1/2 years ago. Very cool folks. We joined them for their weekly weekend ritual of going to the local LOCAL russian bath house, for what would become a 5 hour adventure into the dark secrets of the "way of sweat"--Russki style. They warned us that this was in no way a "spa", and be prepared to be surrounded by nothing but Russians, and their screaming kids, and concrete and tile and plastic chairs and hot Hot HOT saunas that would be sure to take our wimpy Californian asses to the edge of open-pore-insanity.
We were ready. So after a quick tour we started with the steam room, the warm up as they say, complete with the traditional felt hat that looks like a booty version of the Kangol (re: LL Cool J circa 1990), that supposedly keeps the roots of the hair from drying out in the intense heat. Just made me hotter, but I went with it. After the steam we rested for a bit, easing into the experience. I was already sweating, light headed and hot as hell, but I was assured this was just the beginning! The facility was a giant reverberatingly concrete room with the ubiquitous white plastic chairs and tables scattered about with a shallow cool pool and a hot tub sized COOOOOLD plunge, complete with floating ice cubes. Men, women and children comingled and I literally didn't hear a lick of English, just the occasional Spanish from the workers, frantically replacing towels and cleaning up.
We then made our way to the first of 3 dry Saunas. Big rooms that could seat 30 each on 3 tiers of cedar benches, with huge red brick ovens in the corners, cranking out the heat and periodically stoked with water by whoever felt like it. Soon, our pores opened and skin reddened, dripping with the toxin-laden moisture that we hadn't seen in a good month or two. Oh boy! I thought, here it comes, and the light-headedness soon joined in, and Jen and I bailed after just a few minutes. Lightweights! We retreated to the cool pool and brought our temp back down. Grabbed a seat and ordered some fruit juice to up our glucose levels. Nice!
Next, it was time for the big daddy: the "real heat" as Gleb liked to call it. The next sauna room was packed with the locals, all shapes and sizes, loud and social in this cultural ritual that some claim keeps them healthy and happy for a lifetime. We were assured that this experience was "authentic", and I was soon convinced. As we checked in, I saw Gleb buying two short branches off an Oak tree, leaves and all, and then soaked them in a bucket of water for a while. Once we got into the Real Heat sauna, I saw (and later felt) what they were all about. Apparently, these branches work wonders to take the stimulation/circulation of the body to the next level. As if a room hot enough to burn your lungs wasn't enough to get your toxins evacuating, try laying down and having one of your large, felt-hat-wearing countrymen rub, swat, slap, brush and crunch the oak leaves all up and down your body. Like some kind of Sushi-Hana show chef at the grill: the dexterity and straight-up rock-drummer like actions was enough to make me laugh out loud in uncomfortableness, russian eyes quickly darting to my obviously not-russian body (except the hair--i for once felt practically bald in this place!). I knew I was in for it. Gleb got our oak branches and invited me to the top tier for a little extra something-something. I obliged. . . when in Moscow, you know.
It was great actually. And the frigid cold plunge brought me instantly back to life. Everyone got the beating that was coming to them, Jen included. After we had all had a thorough heating up (about 4 hours later!), we sat down in our towels and feasted on a meal of potatoes (Kates favorite), beef tongue, shrimp, pea soup, eggplant, beers and cokes. Ahhhh!!!! (burp). We waddled back to their Park Slope apartment, played some guitars and talked till we passed out from blissful exhaustion. We were officially indoctrinated now, honorary Ukranians, complete with the first of hopefully many days spent in the "Bannya".
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