Ryan had been telling me that the Russian banya in Alamaty, Kazakhstan was a must do for us while I was visiting him for a few days, and since we were not doing very many other things that fell into the "legitimate culture" category (unless you consider eating large plates of meat and closing out discos as legitimate culture) I was intrigued. I’ve been to baths in Turkey and a sauna in Finland, and if there was a massage involved, bu-ya-shaka. I’ve had a few massages in Chinese, paying around $2 an hour, as well as a massage after my first marathon in San Francisco. The massage in Pammukale, Turkey was not as relaxing as the post–marathon massage, but I guess it did get the knots out and all the dead skin off my body, which I’d wanted to do for a little while.
We had breakfast on Saturday morning, well, afternoon I suppose, arriving an hour and a half late to meet some other people at the American Bar and Grill (unless you want to go to a nice Western hotel, this is best western breakfast in town). Ryan’s Peace Corp worker friends arrived later than us, and we discussed the intricacies of the banya. The girls had heard the some guys thought it was better than sex. Ryan kept trying to fill my head with suspicious thoughts, describing the birch branches that were used in self–flogging. If I was lucky, he said, another naked Russian would flog me. I was beguiled. He reiterated again that this was a heterosexual banya, and for most people in Russia this is a once a week visit, as they do not have showers or baths in their homes. We finished our deliscious breakfast of omelletes, potatoes and bottomless cups of coffee (damn hard to find in Asia) around 3pm and headed over to the banya. We timed it poorly, as another session would not start until 4pm. Apparently the large facility in Almaty – supposed to be one of the best Russian banyas outside of Moscow and St. Petersburg – runs in two hour sessions for the separated men’s and women’s sections. We decided to put this off until Sunday. I noticed women selling bunches of birch branches, and realized that he had not been kidding about the self–flogging. I lieu of going to the banya that afternoon we found a bottle of authentic absinthe.
On Sunday we arrived at the American Bar and Grill for breakfast a few minutes before two, knowing full well that they stopped serving breakfast at 2pm, and there would probably be a confrontation. The waitress did not want to serve us breakfast, but we persisted, reminding her that she was not the one cooking the food. We finished around 3pm this time, and Ryan and I killed some time at the excellent war memorial and park across the street from the banya. We rehydrated with water and juice, as apparently this is very important before the banya. At the banya we bought some soap, shampoo, and Ryan bought some flip–flops. There were also personal scrubbers (brushes, not people) and birch branches that you could buy. We paid our $3.50 and entered the complex. It is a huge multi-level complex with large domes over what Ryan indicated were the swimming pools. It looks like it is build in Greco-Roman style, with imposing doric and ionic columns and Corinthian arches. I wanted to snap a few pictures, you know, for the Priv, but I had the feeling my fotog hijinks would get me in trouble again here. In the large locker room, thirty or so men, ages 10 to 70, were walking around naked, weighing themselves, shaving, drinking beer and hot tea, and sleeping on the comfortable seats. Ryan and I got a locker and eventually a sheet to use as a towel, and made our way into the first sauna. "This one is a little hot", he said. I’m a big boy and could handle a sauna. Bring it. Sweet Jesus! It was hotter than anything I’ve ever experienced. It was so hot that you could not breath. I figured my mouth was around 100 degrees Fahrenheit, it had to be 170 or so in here. Every pore on my body began issuing sweat as I stumbled for a seat. The cedar benches were near bursting into flames, but I guess they’ve learned the threshold and keep it a few degrees below this burning or melting point. I took off my bedsheet and sat on it, feeling extremely faint. "See that furnace over there", Ryan said, pointing to a closed furnace door, "someone will ask us pretty soon if we want it hotter in here and throw buckets of water inside". I couldn’t wait, and didn't have to wait more than 30 seconds. Huge blasts of heat nearly knocked the consciousness out of me, as I realized I had precious few moments before I collapsed. A large Russian man, busy flogging himself with birch branches, noticed my state and said "Minmum five minutes!". He then began flogging me with the birch branches, hitting my back, chest and arms. I don’t know if anyone has ever said you haven’t really lived unless you’ve been flogged while sitting naked in a 170 degree Russian sauna, but I’ll say it now. Not quite better than sex, but it is a rush for your body.
Ryan and I made it out of the sauna, only to be accosted by another large Russian filling up a big bucket with cold water. He motioned us over and proceeded to dump the contents of the bucket on my head. It almost triggered my epileptic seizure, as I’m pretty sure that my heart stopped. "AGAIN", he said, appearing angry. Ryan went after me, gasping for air afterwards as I had done. We went into the Finnish sauna after that, which felt like a nice breezy summer day after the five minutes we spent in the Russian sauna. It was very similar to the sauna at health clubs and people’s homes, not too hot, but you don’t want to stay more than ten or 15 minutes.
We jumped in the circular pool after that, enjoying a nice skinnydip with 25 other naked men. Europeans say that Americans are prude. There might be some veracity to this in terms of being naked in public, but when a European girl says that to me at a pub, she’s just trying to get me in bed. Nice try sister! The swim was nice, the first real swim in too long.
We signed up for a massage after the cycle of sauna–sauna–pool, then headed back into the HOT sauna. It was noticeably hotter this time. There are two levels to this sauna, and when I stood on the second tier, my head was near the ceiling. The second level was ten to fifteen degrees cooler,especially near the ceiling. I could not stand, I could not breath, I could barely reach out and grab the railing to guide me down to the lower level. I had never been more instantly hot in all my life, my entire body emanating sweat and beginning to shut down. I don’t think we lasted the five minutes this time. We filled up buckets of cold water for each other and proceeded with the ritual again. Into the Finnish sauna to relax a little in reasonable heat, then we headed to get a massage. Men in speedos jockeyed to get us on their marble slab, and two of them got in a brief shouting match over who would massage Ryan. Interesting scene. The nude, full body massage lasted about 40 minutes and reached nearly every nook and cranny. It was performed with soap and warm water, so the massage served to clean us as well. It was not painful, as I expected, and even included a scalp massage. It was not the first time I had lied naked on a marble slab and received a "massage", according to some of my buddies who might be reading this, and it definately won’t be my last, they’ll contend.
After the massage I collapsed into a large comfortable chair in the locker room and rested until the end of our session, around 4pm. Ryan wanted to do one more lap in the Finnish sauna and pool, but I was ready for a long nap.
We left the building and made it as far as the juice stand, buying a liter and a half of mineral water and a box of fruit juice. We mixed the two and rehydrated with this delicious concoction.
I think that if I lived near a good banya, I would go once a week or so. The massages are a bit of a luxury at $14 each (for Kazakhstan), but you only live twice, right? The whole experience was not quite better than sex, but it was extremely relaxing and works out any tension you may have stored in your body during the week. Maybe next time I’ll buy some birch branches to "self-flog" myself like the pros.
|
