Hello chaps,
Again, thanks for reading my blog and especially for your
comments, I do enjoy reading them. I’m feeling very reflective today as it
marks the start of the final week of my time out here. I’ve had a whale of a
time, but it’s certainly been the most challenging four months of my life so
far.
Peter, I want to thank you for your hospitality, you have
been most forthcoming. I shall miss you most terribly, but I think it is time
for me to move on and start the next chapter of my life.
So as anyone in Russia reading this will agree, (I can’t
speak for anyone in England), it is COLD. I know I’m being a wimpy Southerner
when I say this, but I have never been so cold in the entirety of my life. I’ve
had a great time falling over in front of people and damaging pieces of masonry
as I try to catch myself. There are 3 inches of ice on pretty much all the
pavements at the moment, it is incredibly dangerous – especially for me as I am
possibly the clumsiest person to walk (or indeed, fall over) on this earth. No
word of a lie.
This blog is entitled ‘full circle’ due to what I got up to
last Wednesday. Allow me to elaborate. Those of you who know me will know that
I am the most prudish, most British person ever when it comes to public
modesty. I’m the kind of girl who will go into a shop changing room just to try
on a new jacket. Indeed, this blog is probably the most I will reveal about me
in any public space.
Well, until last Wednesday perhaps. Ladies and gentlemen, I
went to a traditional Russian “banya” or bath house. I know. Those crazy places
that we read about in England where we are led to believe that some crazy
babushka forces vodka down you while chasing you out wearing nothing but your
birthday suit into the snow, beating you with a birch twig, shouting “It’s for
your health, you weak-willed devushka, it’s for your health!”
It wasn’t quite that crazy, I assure you. In fact, it was
incredible. I spent the rest of the day in a relaxed haze, having spent 2 hours
repeatedly heating myself to the point of melting and then immediately cooling
myself to the point of freezing. I became Russian for a good 2 hours,
forgetting my British prudishness. There was no snow involved, nor were there
babushki or vodka – it was a clean, elegant spa. People go there to be social,
to relax and to blow away the cobwebs.
I guess I should now describe it, as naturally I have no
pictures – the steam would have broken my camera. (Yeah, that’s my excuse).
Step 1: Shower in open but divided cubicles. I’ll point out
here that bani are gender segregated.
Step 2: Spend 10 minutes in Turkish bath and try not to
explode.
Step 3: When heat of Turkish bath gets too much, plunge into
ice cold pool and try not to squeal.
Repeat steps 2 and 3 until you notice the traditional
Russian banya and realise you only have 30 minutes left.
Step 4: Shower again in tepid water.
Step 5: Enter banya, (it’s an entirely birch panelled room
with a raised section on which there are wooden benches). They are very hot,
but it’s a dry heat unlike in the Turkish bath. The smell of birch is so strong
you can taste it when it gets too hot to so much as breathe through your mouth
(Such frivolity!)
Step 6: Lay out towel and recruit slave/roommate to smack
you repeatedly over the back with a birch twig (leaves and all).
Step 7: Douse self in freezing cold water.
Step 8: (optional) Shower with soap so that you smell of
flowers instead of birch.
After my two hour session, I emerged looking like a tomato
and almost passed out in the shower at the end – but it was one of the best
experiences out here.
My banya experience answered a few of my questions about
Russians and led me to question my own culture and I came to the conclusion
that the English are a people of overthinkers. Russian people frankly don’t
give a toss if other people can see their wobbly bits. I’ll point out, they
have none – they look after their figures very well over here and I think we
English could take a leaf out of their book on this one. English people remain
tainted by the Victorian prudishness that was our national code 200 years ago.
While the Russians were revolting against the tsar and wearing furs, we were
revolting at the sight of other women’s ankles and learning how to spell the
word ‘fur’. And so it continues. We stare
aghast at the old woman in the swimming pool changing rooms who stopped caring
about how she looked at least 20 years ago, unable to conceive that she might
so dare to expose even her knees in such a public space.
Can we possibly get over this as a culture, as Britons? I
think it is desirable, but frankly impossible. English people are among the
most prudish in the world, after those of Islamic faith and Americans – but
even Americans on the whole are far more outspoken than English people. Some
may go so far as to say obnoxious but I will reserve judgement on this one,
this is not the time or the place.
I can safely say I have gone full circle and completely got
over myself, quite frankly. I will no longer be the girl who tries on a coat in
a changing room – I’m going to do it on the shop floor, like a sane
person. Come to think of it, I did
precisely that yesterday and indulged in a brand new Russian fur coat. I am in
love. I figured my English coat and hat just were not cutting it, as my legs
froze to the point they were painful as I crossed the Anichkov bridge. It’s
Christmas next week, right?!
You can call me ‘Snow Queen’.
Thank you, Snow Queen :)
ReplyDeleteС лёгким паром!
ReplyDeleteRussian banya is something.. no sh%t. I love it.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Снежная Королева, that was very nice and kind report.
на Крещение искупаешься в проруби?
ReplyDeleteFliss рад. что тебе понравилось. А также ирония относительно собственного менталитета, мы русские тоже любим иронизировать по поводу своих национальных черт.
ReplyDelete