Four Hands in a Russian Banya and a Botched Russian exit

My time in Russia wouldn’t have been complete without a visit to a “banya” – the Russian equivalent of a sauna/hamam experience, with the added pleasure of jumping in the snow or having freezing water poured over your head in the meantime. Since even in May, the weather was still pretty wintery in Yekaterinburg, a good friend organized а banya outing at the gorgeous Ananyevskie Bani. Along with my fabulous girlfriend IL, I was given a wooden chalet, which consisted of two cozy rooms, and one wet hamam room that led into a dry and frighteningly hot sauna. It all looked a little out of an old Russian tale, which was enhanced by the fact that the woman who met us at the door was dressed like a 19^th century peasant (unless, of course, she just had a penchant for heavily embroidered-bouffant style blouses paired with puffed-up skirts). My friend IL had wisely brought a bottle of wine, and after confirming with the period-clad woman that I do indeed want a “parilshtik” – a person to come and whack me with tree branches as part of a traditional banya experience - we proceeded to order from the banya menu delicacies like salted pork fat, pickled vegetables, sausages and black bread. As we settled to chat, drink and eat, the door suddenly opened, and a short, stocky man appeared, completely undressed save for a large cloth enveloping his lower body like a skirt, tucked under his enormous protruding belly. He was carrying a large wooden water bucket, filled with various types of tree branches. He merrily remarked that he was only bringing those to let them soak for 30 mins in cold water – apparently, the treatment was going to include whacking with 5 types of tree branches, birch, oak, fir, eucalyptus and juniper, all gathered at midnight on some obscure religious holiday. Then he cryptically remarked that four hands were better than one and happily disappeared.

Somewhat puzzled, we nevertheless stripped down to bathing suits and continued to drink and chat. In a few minutes, branch guy came back, again without knocking, but to my shock behind him was an identical semi-nude sweaty guy who, it seemed, was about to take part of the show as well. Somewhat alarmed at that point, I was led into the hot sauna by the boisterous men who really seemed to know what they doing. Both took the opportunity to emphasize several times that bathing suits were optional, and I cheerfully informed them that I was keeping mine on. The sauna was like an inferno. They placed a wreath of branches on the bench, and made me lie down with my face in it. Then, they put a stack of other branches, dripping with icy-cold water, on top of my head, so in fact I felt quite comfortable and the heat did not seem that horrendous anymore. For the next 15 minutes, they proceeded to lightly whack me around with various branches, while frequently changing the cold ones on top of my head. Each time, they changed the type, so I would invariably smell eucalyptus, or birch, or whatever else. It was, in fact, rather glorious.

After all that, feeling a bit dizzy from the heat, they brought me to my feet and led me gingerly outside the sauna into the wet part of the banya. As I sheepishly looked around to see what was next, someone suddenly dumped a bucket of icy cold water on my head, and I nearly passed out. I was so out of breath that before I even managed to start yelling obscenities, another bucket of icy water got poured on my head. Just as I was about to kill someone, the banya men expertly pulled me and made me lie down on a wooden bed. Then a whole bunch of treatments happened, but I was too disoriented to remember them all properly. All I know was that there was spreading of clay, something that felt like peeling, massages with aromatic leaves, spray washing, rinse, repeat. That went on for quite some time and was also rather pleasant. Feeling that I was enjoying all of that too much, the two sadistic men then dragged me back into the hot sauna, and continued with the branch whacking. The whole process took about an hour and in the end, they had to literally carry me into the bed to rest as my blood pressure was all over the place and I could not walk. My skin, however, was glowing and I felt like a newborn. I proclaim banya one of my new most favorite things!

My last month in Russia was an absolute blur of activity. As Son finally finished school and graduated elementary school, I offered to throw him a goodbye sleepover with his best friends, while the Diplomat left for India to see the Inlaws. As a result, five prepubescent boys spent the night in our house, playing soccer, eating pizza and talking nonsense about girls. As far as I could tell, they did not go to sleep until 1 am, and I found one of them asleep upright in a sofa chair – apparently, he “liked to try new things, like sleeping in a sofa chair.” (I also do like to try new things but mine go more along the lines of trying First Class on Emirates, buying my first Christian Louboutins, or very old single malt scotch. I guess we are different.)

The next day, Son and I left Moscow for good - he was coming to stay with me in Yekaterinburg for the last 2 weeks of our time in Russia. For lack of other better options, I put him in an overpriced cooking camp, taught exclusively in Russian – a language he somewhat understands, but still does not exactly speak. Every evening, the parents would come to pick up the budding chefs and we were served dinner cooked by them during the day. To his credit, Son did not complain a single time and seemed to get along with everybody, even if they communicated mostly through monosyllabic sounds and hand gestures.

In the meantime, I hosted my goodbye party, which ended with at sunrise (granted, at that point, the sun in Yekat was rising at 2:30 am), Yekaterinburg hosted its famous Ural Music Night, featuring 80 stages indoors and outdoors all over the city and some 2500 artists (among which yours truly, belting out Country Roads at the opening of the festival with a full scale band behind me!!), and the U.S. Consulate Yekaterinburg hosted its annual Independence Day reception, which lasted 6 hours in high heels and where I hosted part of the program the evening before we left Russia. In between, there were more receptions and dinners and parties and goodbyes, and, oh yes, the packout of all of my belongings.

So, I think you would imagine the extent of my exhaustion when Son and I woke up at 4 am the day after the reception (me having slept a total of 3 hours), zipped our suitcases, shoved Fat Cat in his brand new, garish red carrying case (he was to fly with us in the cabin of the plane for a change), and bid the lovely city of Yekat goodbye. Except that we ended up not leaving. Due to an outrageous mistake by Turkish Airlines, Fat Cat was booked erroneously as a cargo animal, and not a cabin one – the reservation claimed he was almost 20 lbs. Now, the cat is overweight, I am not going to argue. But 20 lbs he ain’t. Despite the fact that I weighed him in front of the ground staff, they said that if the booking said he was 20 lbs, then he WAS 20 lbs, even if he actually was not. And then they denied us boarding. As an alternative, the airline rep suggested we release him in the street. No matter what I said or how much I or Son cried, he was one unmoved Russian man. When I pointed out to him he was very rude, he told me I was impertinent. And so we had to come back to the apartment. I ended up buying new tickets on the omnipresent Aeroflot who seemed to have their s**t together a lot better, and after sleeping most of the day and a hearty steak lunch, Son, Fat Cat and I finally left Russia that same night, to arrive in the welcoming hands of Grandma in Bulgaria the next day.

We spent the next 4 days on the Bulgarian coast, eating our weight’s worth in an all-inclusive resort in Nessebar, and resting and roasting on the beach. (Fat Cat stayed with my uncle, in case you wonder. He is really making the rounds.) A day after we came back, I left the child and the expensive cat with Grandma in Bulgaria and flew to Washington, DC where the Diplomat had already arrived a week ago to start training for our next assignment in Ukraine. I saw him for one hot minute and the next day, I left again for a week-long State Department training meant to prepare me for life in a dangerous country. Having conquered that, at the end of the week I returned to DC and we left that same night for a quick romantic getaway since it was our 16^th wedding anniversary. The next 4 days were spent having dinners with friends, last minute shopping, and getting very sick. Exactly 12 days after I had arrived in the United States, and 3 weeks after leaving Russia, I hopped on a plane again to fly to my final destination - Kyiv. You think I was exhausted? Oh, you bet. Not to mention the piercing throat pain, cough and low-grade fever. Welcome to Ukraine!