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When I left Moscow's Sheremetyevo airport almost three years ago after living in the former Soviet Union for half a decade, there were many things I was more than happy to leave behind.
Vodka-soaked men coming home on the subway as I was going to work? Wouldn't miss it.
Newly wealthy Russians careening through traffic at 100 mph in their bulletproof BMW sedans as pedestrians dived to safety? No longer held any allure for me.
But I would miss the Russian bath experience, the perfect antidote to a cold, winter day when it seemed as if nothing could get me warm except a one-way ticket to the south of France.
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NEW YORK SUDSY
Faced with another freezing cold day this winter and feeling a wee bit nostalgic for Mother Russia, I found myself at the door of Wall Street Bath & Spa in Manhattan, looking for a little steam, a cup of tea and something resembling a Russian experience - all of which I found.
Russians have a long tradition of going to the bath or the banya, as they call it, an experience similar to a sauna but with more moisture in the air.
Before the introduction of running water, the bath house was often the only way to get clean. Even though that can now be accomplished with a quick shower at home, the banya still draws crowds for its purported health and beauty benefits.
"Nothing in human history was invented for your health like a banya," said Dmitri Lerner, who emigrated from Moscow with his family in 1979 and started the banya in lower Manhattan about nine years ago. "After you go to sauna and steam, you'll sleep like a baby."
Lerner describes the banya experience as "naked communication," where you see "real people." But in case you're worried, as I was, it's not that naked. Unlike in Russia where the banyas are generally segregated by gender, those in New York tend to be mixed, and people wear bathing suits.
A bathrobe, slippers and an unending supply of towels is also included in the entry fee.
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IT'S GETTIN' HOT IN HERE
The traditional Russian banya consists of a small room with a massive oven containing stones that have been heated overnight and then water is thrown on them to create steam. The small room usually has three levels of benches. Since heat rises, the top row is usually the hottest - the area where only the toughest can sit for more than a few minutes.
The banya experience usually goes something like this: You strip down to your bathing suit, quickly rinse in a shower and usually cover your head with a little hat or a towel. Then enter the sauna and take your seat on one of the benches, either sitting up or lying down. Sweating commences almost immediately.
You stay in the sauna room for as long as you can take it. Most banya aficionados will tell you that each person should stay in the sauna for however long they feel comfortable.
"Everybody should listen to his or her own body," said Sergei Kalashnik, who emigrated from St. Petersburg almost nine years ago and now owns a business making the ovens that create the steam.
When you finally can't take any more, you scurry outside and jump into a freezing cold plunge pool or throw your sweaty body under a cold shower. Out in the Russian countryside, people often run outside and roll in the snow to cool off.
You complete this process three times, and then it's time to sit down and drink some water or the Russian drink that goes with everything: (no, not vodka), tea.
Wall Street Bath & Spa also has a Turkish-style steam room and a shvitz, which is similar to the Russian banya except that you can throw cold water on yourself while inside the steam room.
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TOUGH, LEAFY LOVE
No Russian banya experience is really complete without the venik treatment. No, that's not a Russian KGB tactic, although it sometimes feels like one.
The venik treatment or platza, as it's also known, is done in the steam room, where you lie down and someone beats you with two thick packets of oak leaves that have been bundled together and soaked in water.
The venik treatment is intended to improve circulation and draw the blood to the surface. If the blotchy red patches resembling octopus marks left on my skin were any indication, the venik treatment is true to its reputation.
The lower-Manhattan banya is a mix of Russian emigrants looking for a taste of home (approaching it with typically stoic faces), Americans who've become addicted to steam and the general international crowd that seems to be everywhere in Manhattan.
The spa also has a large swimming pool, a jacuzzi and a salon where people can get treatments such as a facial or body wrap.
But the purists tend to stay near steam.
New Yorkers like Robert Gehorsam, who works in the computer-games industry, have described themselves as steam snobs and have made the banya a weekly and sometimes daily ritual.
"It's like wine tasters," said Gehorsam, lounging in a chair and white terry-cloth robe in the spa's large resting area. "We can tell if it's too humid or it hasn't been aired out."
After surviving the venik treatment and rehydrating with freshly squeezed orange juice while the red blotches faded, I made my way back to the women's locker room, took a shower and got dressed.
Feeling warm and light one layer of skin, I made my way out into the cold February evening.
By REBECCA SANTANA - The Associated Press
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