Q. A few days ago, visiting friends, I was invited
to a banya. Being English, I am bred to please and have a horror of 'causing a scene'. Refusal here in Russia requires explanation, and at the very thought of dissimulation my face changed colour until it matched the beetroot salad. I agreed. It was not my first banya experience, but it was certainly one of the most unpleasant. Sweating, naked, portly men are one thing, the smell of beer and tinned fish is something else. Both of these at once, combined with the obligatory birch twigs — venniki, from which I am still covered in pink-andwhite stripes — may well be the key to the mysteries of the Russian soul, but for a poor, lost English girl they were, well . . . I am sure that, as a woman of taste and refinement, you understand that it is not an experience I wish to repeat. I would welcome any hints as to how best avoid such situations in the future.
S.C.G., by email A. Next time such an invitation crops up, issue a low groan of disappointment that you will be unable to participate. Explain that, since you have a certain weakness of the heart, your doctor has ordered that under no circumstances should you risk exposing yourself to the intense heat which is a feature of these mixed bathing opportunities so popular in both Russia and Japan.
Previous page
