Izhevsk
Banya
Banya near Izhevsk
December 27, 2003
I’m leaving soon for banya, but I was informed we haven’t left because the car isn’t
working. The car I’m told is a fairly new car, one of the best Russian cars, so
it’s not saying much for the Russian auto industry.
December 28, 2003
I was wrong; they didn’t have the car, but a jeep, apparently the first jeep in
the world, Russian-made, wearing yellow, rust, doors clinging to their hinges, plus
striped or worn out gears.
The guys met me at the Pushkin statue then we bought sausages from a street market
along with some bread and snacks. As Kolya introduced me to everyone, one guy’s
introduction included the number of exams he’s paid his way through (Kolya knows
my disbelief that bribery is so widespread). This guy seemed somewhat proud of the
fact that he paid 300 rubles to a teacher last week for a perfect score.
The roads were dire (many cars put spikes on their tires for traction) and we were
sliding everywhere. There are no visible lines on the streets and passing is typical.
Cars seldom slow or stop for pedestrians; most drivers don't seem to be paying attention.
I've learned to watch myself when I cross streets and to move quickly when I do.
The cars differ vastly; most are very small Russian (typically Ladas) or eastern
European cars. There is however a Lincoln in the city, it’s the biggest car in the
city so everyone knows of it. There are also a few Mercedes, Hondas, and Lexuses,
but all the smallest models they make. I haven’t seen any American cars, but was
told that there used to be a Chevy suburban, but it cost too much and had to be
sold.
About twenty minutes on the roads in our reckless vehicle we somehow made it in
one piece to a random street in the forest. Here we met Kolya’s father waiting for
a bus and then preceded through the woods until we reached the gated community.
After telling the night guard who we were, he let us in, but we had to open the
gate ourselves.
The small road to the dacha itself was snowed in, but of course my Russian friends
had a shovel in the car so we began digging a path. After ten minutes of digging
we tried to drive through, but only made it about 25 feet until the jeep got stuck
so we gave up. We loaded our food and clothes and started hiking to the dacha through
the two or three-foot deep snow. I wore very tall sheep wool boots that went up
to nearly my knees for the trek, compliments of my Russian friends.
There were a lot of dachas in this complex and each lot was very similar: a simple
dacha, a greenhouse, and a banya. Our dacha was Alexei’s; his father built it, but
he died when Alexei was in 10th class because “he drank a lot but he had a bad heart
and it couldn’t take it anymore.”
The dacha itself is two floors; the second is inaccessible in the winter, so we
stayed on the first floor, which is two rooms with a small porch. As you enter from
the left you are in the kitchen with hangers for coats, rugs on the floor, a couple
tables, and the basic kitchen utensils, but no sink. On your right, the front of
the dacha is the second room, it has two big chairs, a couple small seats, a big
bed and of course another coat rack all focused around the fire/stove. The dacha
was made from logs and hay, which stick out everywhere. Although it looks rough,
it was well made and keeps the heat in.
We immediately started the fire in the dacha then went to the banya to start the
fire there. From the dacha we passed the greenhouse, which is used to grow any fruits
and vegetables which can bear the short season. Now, however there was only a frame,
everything else was removed for the winter.
Passing this we reached a tiny building, the banya. To the right, fire wood, which
I later chopped; the door entrances are so small one must duck to enter. The first
room is for clothes and towels with hangers and a bench in case it gets too hot
in the banya itself. To the left is the actual banya; a large table and bench extend
from front to back. On the left stands a small table with a large metal box on it,
this was filled with water, cool water; on the right is the oven, a fire in the
bottom, in the middle an area covered with rocks, and on top a tank of hot water
with a dispenser, much like a Russian samovar.
After chopping wood and starting the fire in the banya, we went into the dacha and
started eating. We ate bread with “salsa,” and sausages cooked in the fire on metal
sticks. The bread, as always was good, but the sausages were poor, I felt sick and
what got me was that some people ate them cold (although they were pre-cooked).
Before finishing some of the guys were getting anxious so went to banya, but I waited
a bit with a couple other guys for round two… the banya is too small for everyone
and too hot to stay in long.
Ten minutes after the first group entered banya, we took our turn. The room was
scorching hot so we striped down and went into the oven. They put me in the hot
seat (which they only told me later), actually the seat furthest from the furnace,
then when hot water is thrown over the rocks it shoots out steam towards me. The
steams felt like it was boiling on my face as sweat poured from everywhere and breathing
became difficult. They told me to breathe through my nose so I tried, but it didn’t
help.
My Russian friends attempted to explain to me that this is healthy and therapeutic:
a cleansing process, which opens my pores forcing me to sweat out the dirt so I
should stay in as long as I can handle it. After only about 10 minutes I couldn’t
handle it so we all ran outside (did I mention it was about -25 degrees outside)
and jumped into the snow then ran back in. It actually was quite refreshing and
I liked the snow diving so did it a few more times.
The process continued between hot room, the slightly cooler entry room and outside.
They say there are female banya’s, male banya’s and mixed, but the latter are supposedly
rare.
They were also very excited to tell me that I am the first foreigner ever in this
area (go figure no one has ever traveled to the middle of this particular Russian
forest close to nothing) and that I should plant the US flag. We were apparently
close to Uva, but to get there you take a different road, so perhaps I really was
the first foreigner ever here. I asked what the town was called, but it has no name
it’s not even big enough to be a village.
Talking to these guys in our birthday outfits was odd at first, but soon mattered
not. Russian men seem to have no shame and have no problem walking around naked,
something I found quite strange at first. We talked about a variety of topics, but
quite a bit on banya; Russians have died in banya from drinking vodka, the dehydration
killed them, or some other side effect of being dehydrated in 110º Celsius temperatures.
Once our time in the banya had come to an end I had to cleanse myself with the cool
water and then dry off with my towel and head back to the dacha, at which point
we had tea and cookies. As we ate they made me sit and relax because its part of
the healing process of banya. As we relaxed they told me about a Russian comedian
who says Russians are cheap and try to get away from paying if they can, but it
doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure this out, just take the dozens of people
trying to not pay on the bus and you’ll see it. They also told me about the “New
Russians” who are rich from perestroika, but did nothing to deserve it, so spend
their money and run their businesses terribly. We also talked about swimmers, soccer
players, tennis players, and even Formula One drivers. The difference in sports
preferences is easily visible, they don’t even know the rules of American football
and I didn’t know who David Beckham was (although they quickly remedied this).
On the way home, we passed “New Russian” houses and only after nearing Izhevsk did
they explain that Russian cars are called “coffins on wheels” because the cars aren’t
safe, the roads aren’t safe and no one can drive well. They thought it was funny,
I’m glad I’m alive.