Last fall, I discovered banya – the Russian sauna. I was in a tiny village about 5 hours north of the city of Perm. It was late September, and the first snow of the season had already fallen and still covered the ground. I was in Russia on a mission’s trip, and the group I was with had just made the lengthy trek to this little village. Our accommodations were somewhat Spartan. There was no central heat, and there were no beds for any of us, nor was there a shower. I didn’t complain. I’ve spent quite a bit of time in missions, and so I’ve learned to be grateful for what I have in such circumstances. After eating a hearty dinner, I was told that the men would all go out to the sauna for a bath.
The idea didn’t exactly excite me. It’s not that I have a problem with corporate nudity. I don’t. After all, I was an athlete in high school. So I know what it’s like to de-robe and shower off in the presence of other guys. And while it may have been awkward after 6th grade gym class, by the time my senior year rolled around, it was as normal as breathing. But this was different. This wasn’t a quick rinse and reach for the towel kind of bath. This was a sauna… in a tiny little outhouse of a building. The 6 of us were going in there… naked. And there we would stew for hours, knee-deep in our own nudity. Filling out my tax return sounded like a better option to me.
I remember a Seinfeld episode in which Jerry dated a woman who insisted on going nude while in his apartment. While he first liked the idea, he quickly discovered that not all nudity is good. Jerry coined the phrase ‘bad naked’ when he described such activities as coughing, crouching or straining to open a jar of pickles. And as the 6 of us marched off to the little shanty of a banya out behind our house, I remember thinking to myself, ‘this is definitely going to be bad naked’.
But something happened as I sat there in that steamy little shack. I actually enjoyed the experience, despite the nudity.
Now, for those of you who are not wise in the ways of the sauna, let me explain what goes on. You don’t really do anything. You just sit there. It’s about 120 to 125 degrees, and every now and then, someone throws a mixture of water and eucalyptus oil onto super-heated rocks. As the water hits the rocks, it instantly turns to vapor, which is trapped in the room. The steamy moisture just seems to wrap around you like a wet blanket, causing you to sweat, which is quite good for you. On top of the sweating, the aromatic eucalyptus causes your sinus cavities to dilate until they’re the size of small melons. The sweating and the aromas and the heat all combine to bring about a euphoric sense of relaxation. And just when the heat gets to be a bit too much, you rinse off with very cold water, which carries all the subtlety of a swift kick to the groin. Despite its severity, however, it is extremely rejuvenating. Conceivably, you could stay in the banya for an hour or so, constantly alternating between hot and cold.
By the end of the night, I was completely and utterly relaxed. For a brief shining moment, I was able to relate to Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden. I was naked, and so were the other 5 who occupied the tiny building. But nudity was the furthest thing from our minds. Oh sure, there were awkward moments. Like when I returned to the sauna from a cold rinse only to find that my seat was taken by someone else. I sat down elsewhere only to find that elsewhere was covered in a puddle of someone else’s bodily juices. There’s no telling what manner of infestation might have been passed from person to person that night. But one sniff of the eucalyptus oil, and all was well.
My parents, who are alternative health nuts, have an infrared sauna at their house. Upon my return to the states, I became a regular visitor to this Americanized banya. A couple weeks ago, they were shocked to discover that I had been using their sauna in my birthday suit. But thanks to banya, I’m now more comfortable with my nudity than I’ve ever been.
