A visit to the Finnish sauna in the dead of winter

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MEDITERRANEAN BATHS

Visiting the modern Hammam in Ankara and lstanbul
Early Greek and Roman Batths
Mass Bathing in the Balnea and Thermae
The Islamic Hammam is Born
The "'Turkish Bath" Visits Europe and
America
Private Sweat Bathing Cubicles

FINNISH SAUNA

A Visit in the Dead of Winter
History of the Nordic Bath
Sauna in Europe
Sauna in Japan
Sauna in America

NATIVE AMERICAN SWEAT LODGE

Joining Running Foot in a Navajo Sweat
Lodge
A Guest at an Oglala Sun Dance Ceremony
History of Sweat Lodges
Hot Rock Sweat Lodge
Direct Fire Sweat Lodge
Sweating Without a Sweat Lodge
Origin of the Temescal
The Temescal Today
The Sweat Lodge Joins the Modern World

RUSSIAN BANIA

A Boisterous Bath in Leningrad
History of the Great Russian Bath
Bannik, the Spirit of the Bania
The Birth Bania
The Wedding Bania
The Death Bania
Health & the Bania
The Bania after the Russian Revolution
The Spreading Influence of the Russian Steam Bath

SAUNA & HEALTH

Sauna & Health
Sweating
Skin
Heating & Cooling the Inner Body
Positive Effects of Negative Ions
Spirits of the Sweat
Social Sweating

USING THE SAUNA/ SWEAT BATH

SAUNA/SWEAT SPICES

PRECAUTIONS

SPECIAL SAUNA CONCERNS FOR WOMEN

BUILD YOUR OWN

FINNISH SAUNA

A Visit in the Dead of Winter

©1997 Mikkel Aaland All Rights Reserved

If a sick person is not cured by tar, spirits or sauna, then they will die.
--Finnish proverb

This is me, back in 1975, during a visit to the Finnish Sauna Society at Vaskiniemi,
on the outskirts of Helsinki. After the 230 degree F heat of the Society's smoke sauna,
an icy plunge into the Baltic felt great. Honest.

I'm told there are more saunas in Finland than cars--over a million*. No other country has attached so much national pride to their bath. Cold weather, abiding folk traditions, and hard living conditions (until recently) have made the sauna dear to the Finnish heart.

Unlike other sweat baths, modernization did not leave the sauna behind; rather, it helped the traditional sauna to develop and become the symbol of all sweat bathing throughout the world.

I sailed to this icy land in the dead of winter, snow flurrying around my boots. Icicles grew in my mustache. "This is insane," I thought, remembering the sun of California a few weeks ago. Sun? It was still dark at eleven in the morning. If I hadn't known that months of fiery saunas awaited me, I'd have turned around and caught the first boat out of Turku's frozen harbor.

I watched a road crew diligently filling a crack in the iced pavement, seemingly unaware of the blizzard raging around them. (It seemed like a blizzard to me.) While I felt out of place, these workers seemed at ease in cold and darkness. Their forefathers had scratched a mean living from the unyielding Nordic soil. I can understand how the sauna was invented--to mitigate the harshness of their lives. The sauna, with its almost supernatural ability to give warmth, cheer and health became integral to their hard lives.

I hitched a ride to Helsinki, my nose pressed against the frosted window as I watched the small wood sauna huts adjoining the houses. At the sight of a smoke-enveloped hut with a farmer chopping wood alongside, I almost jumped out of the car. My driver just smiled at my enthusiasm and said matter-of-factly, "That's the way saunas are heated on the farms. The old way is really best. The scent of freshly burned birch lingers in the sauna." Just what I needed, to defrost my thin-blooded California body.

Helsinki rose noisily from the quiet wooded countryside. Horns honking, cars careening on the slushy streets. Then I began to spot the public saunas, their distinctive signs. The moment I hopped out of the car, my hand pulled five marks ($2) from my pocket and I rushed through my first Finnish sauna door, vowing to take a sauna every day in Helsinki.

I found a small apartment on Makelanrinne Street and lived there for nine months. The building had its own sauna free to its tenants. Every Tuesday and Saturday men and children would gather in the electrically heated sauna, and warm foil-wrapped meat on the hot stones for dinner. (Women took their sauna an hour earlier.) This was the ideal time to meet the neighborly Finns and socialize. During the winter, most Finns hole up in the warmth of their homes and are difficult to meet. Here I was, holed up and sweating right along with them. "You came all the way from America to study our baths?" was a common ice-breaker. "Sure," I'd answer, "why not?" A long stare usually followed, then, "You Americans . .. Here, study some of this good Finnish beer." Then the conversation was off and running.

When I wasn't bathing in my apartment, I braved Helsinki streets to sample the public saunas. Most of these were heated by birch logs. Smoke bathes the city with a delectable scent, evoking images of medieval days. All public saunas provide an array of paraphernalia: a vihta (birch twigs collected in midsummer and frozen or dried for winter use) to whisk the skin; scented soaps and shampoos; loofas for scrubbing the skin. Best of all is a woman dressed in white who, for a small fee, will scrub a bather. A man's uneasiness being naked in the presence of these fully dressed women is quickly lost in the luxury of the scrub.

One day I found a public swimming pool, pulled on a swim suit and hustled out to the pool. I was poised to plunge in when a burly lifeguard whistled and shouted: "Hey, have you had your sauna yet?" A faux pas for me, as I remembered my days as a lifeguard in the States when I often scolded kids for not showering before a swim. Now I learned how much more pleasant a sauna is than a cold shower.

The pool side sauna also felt great after a bruising game of water polo, relaxing my sore and battered muscles. I then learned that all Finnish athletic complexes have saunas--sport and sauna are inseparable in Finland. Also, many companies provide a sauna for their employees right after work.

As if a sauna at home, work and play weren't enough, the Finns have developed portable saunas to carry on camping trips. On hikes through the forests, I saw portables, standard equipment for the Boy Scouts. The unequipped hiker often builds a makeshift sauna from any material at hand--plastic, bark, canoes, skiffs. I later saw improvised saunas with the Finnish United Nations troops on front-line duty in Cyprus.

After enjoying a number of different saunas, from the wood-heated to the gas and electric heated ones, I felt I had become a connoisseur. I found good saunas and bad saunas (yes, even in Finland). I cultivated my preferences. Like a cheap wine whose flavor is enhanced by good company, my fondest memories come from times I was alongside good Finn friends, regardless of the sauna itself.

Although traditional birch log saunas can be dangerous and ecologically unsound in the city, their fragrance and soft even heat makes them preferable to the electric or gas. Public saunas are usually lined with tile, being so easy to keep clean, but I prefer the natural aesthetics of those lined with wood. Normally, public saunas have a lower temperature and higher humidity which appeals to those with reluctant sweat.

My favorite sauna is the smoke sauna, the savusauna, the oldest and most enduring sauna in Finland. The savusauna was conceived long before the discovery of electricity or bottled gas. It is little more than a pile of rocks in a small log cabin. There is no chimney, for smoke fills the room and eventually escapes through cracks in the roof and walls. It takes a good day's work to prepare this sauna properly and heat the hundreds of rocks and thick log walls. There are no short cuts. Wood must be chopped, the fire must be extinguished and smoke purged from the room.

It was my pleasure to sweat in several savusaunas, ranging from the sophisticated model at the Finnish Sauna Society, complete with showers, dressing rooms and no responsibilities, to the rustic countryside version.

Whether I hung my clothes in a tree or on a coat hanger, I was never disappointed by a savusauna. Their sooted walls emanate the savory smells of wood, earth and camaraderie. Steam reaches out from the rocks like friendly hands, dispensing their heat. The bather warms evenly, everywhere at once. With my senses warm and smiling, my mind easily drifted into revery. That was followed by a few minutes of invigorating swatting with the vihta, then a dash to a plunge hole in a frozen lake or a brisk, tingling dip, I never felt more clean and vibrant.

* I've been informed by Mr. Harri Koponen of Finland that as of 1998 there are 2.0 million cars (0.39 per capita) and 1.6 million saunas (0.31+ per capita). in Finland. Thanks for the update!

RETURN TO TOP... NEXT CHAPTER... RETURN TO MAIN SWEAT PAGE




		Site Contents \| Search \| All about digital imaging \| Favorite Projects \| Sweat The Sword of Heaven \| County Fair \| Portfolio \| Links \| Your Comments Kudos for CB \| Just Released!!! : Photoshop for the Web

Return to main Sweat page MEDITERRANEAN BATHS Visiting the modern Hammam in Ankara and lstanbul Early Greek and Roman Batths Mass Bathing in the Balnea and Thermae The Islamic Hammam is Born The "'Turkish Bath" Visits Europe and America Private Sweat Bathing Cubicles FINNISH SAUNA A Visit in the Dead of Winter History of the Nordic Bath Sauna in Europe Sauna in Japan Sauna in America NATIVE AMERICAN SWEAT LODGE Joining Running Foot in a Navajo Sweat Lodge A Guest at an Oglala Sun Dance Ceremony History of Sweat Lodges Hot Rock Sweat Lodge Direct Fire Sweat Lodge Sweating Without a Sweat Lodge Origin of the Temescal The Temescal Today The Sweat Lodge Joins the Modern World RUSSIAN BANIA A Boisterous Bath in Leningrad History of the Great Russian Bath Bannik, the Spirit of the Bania The Birth Bania The Wedding Bania The Death Bania Health & the Bania The Bania after the Russian Revolution The Spreading Influence of the Russian Steam Bath SAUNA & HEALTH Sauna & Health Sweating Skin Heating & Cooling the Inner Body Positive Effects of Negative Ions Spirits of the Sweat Social Sweating USING THE SAUNA/ SWEAT BATH SAUNA/SWEAT SPICES PRECAUTIONS SPECIAL SAUNA CONCERNS FOR WOMEN BUILD YOUR OWN
	FINNISH SAUNA A Visit in the Dead of Winter ©1997 Mikkel Aaland All Rights Reserved If a sick person is not cured by tar, spirits or sauna, then they will die. --Finnish proverb This is me, back in 1975, during a visit to the Finnish Sauna Society at Vaskiniemi, on the outskirts of Helsinki. After the 230 degree F heat of the Society's smoke sauna, an icy plunge into the Baltic felt great. Honest. I'm told there are more saunas in Finland than cars--over a million. No other country has attached so much national pride to their bath. Cold weather, abiding folk traditions, and hard living conditions (until recently) have made the sauna dear to the Finnish heart. Unlike other sweat baths, modernization did not leave the sauna behind; rather, it helped the traditional sauna to develop and become the symbol of all sweat bathing throughout the world. I sailed to this icy land in the dead of winter, snow flurrying around my boots. Icicles grew in my mustache. "This is insane," I thought, remembering the sun of California a few weeks ago. Sun? It was still dark at eleven in the morning. If I hadn't known that months of fiery saunas awaited me, I'd have turned around and caught the first boat out of Turku's frozen harbor. I watched a road crew diligently filling a crack in the iced pavement, seemingly unaware of the blizzard raging around them. (It seemed like a blizzard to me.) While I felt out of place, these workers seemed at ease in cold and darkness. Their forefathers had scratched a mean living from the unyielding Nordic soil. I can understand how the sauna was invented--to mitigate the harshness of their lives. The sauna, with its almost supernatural ability to give warmth, cheer and health became integral to their hard lives. I hitched a ride to Helsinki, my nose pressed against the frosted window as I watched the small wood sauna huts adjoining the houses. At the sight of a smoke-enveloped hut with a farmer chopping wood alongside, I almost jumped out of the car. My driver just smiled at my enthusiasm and said matter-of-factly, "That's the way saunas are heated on the farms. The old way is really best. The scent of freshly burned birch lingers in the sauna." Just what I needed, to defrost my thin-blooded California body. Helsinki rose noisily from the quiet wooded countryside. Horns honking, cars careening on the slushy streets. Then I began to spot the public saunas, their distinctive signs. The moment I hopped out of the car, my hand pulled five marks ($2) from my pocket and I rushed through my first Finnish sauna door, vowing to take a sauna every day in Helsinki. I found a small apartment on Makelanrinne Street and lived there for nine months. The building had its own sauna free to its tenants. Every Tuesday and Saturday men and children would gather in the electrically heated sauna, and warm foil-wrapped meat on the hot stones for dinner. (Women took their sauna an hour earlier.) This was the ideal time to meet the neighborly Finns and socialize. During the winter, most Finns hole up in the warmth of their homes and are difficult to meet. Here I was, holed up and sweating right along with them. "You came all the way from America to study our baths?" was a common ice-breaker. "Sure," I'd answer, "why not?" A long stare usually followed, then, "You Americans . .. Here, study some of this good Finnish beer." Then the conversation was off and running. When I wasn't bathing in my apartment, I braved Helsinki streets to sample the public saunas. Most of these were heated by birch logs. Smoke bathes the city with a delectable scent, evoking images of medieval days. All public saunas provide an array of paraphernalia: a vihta (birch twigs collected in midsummer and frozen or dried for winter use) to whisk the skin; scented soaps and shampoos; loofas for scrubbing the skin. Best of all is a woman dressed in white who, for a small fee, will scrub a bather. A man's uneasiness being naked in the presence of these fully dressed women is quickly lost in the luxury of the scrub. One day I found a public swimming pool, pulled on a swim suit and hustled out to the pool. I was poised to plunge in when a burly lifeguard whistled and shouted: "Hey, have you had your sauna yet?" A faux pas for me, as I remembered my days as a lifeguard in the States when I often scolded kids for not showering before a swim. Now I learned how much more pleasant a sauna is than a cold shower. The pool side sauna also felt great after a bruising game of water polo, relaxing my sore and battered muscles. I then learned that all Finnish athletic complexes have saunas--sport and sauna are inseparable in Finland. Also, many companies provide a sauna for their employees right after work. As if a sauna at home, work and play weren't enough, the Finns have developed portable saunas to carry on camping trips. On hikes through the forests, I saw portables, standard equipment for the Boy Scouts. The unequipped hiker often builds a makeshift sauna from any material at hand--plastic, bark, canoes, skiffs. I later saw improvised saunas with the Finnish United Nations troops on front-line duty in Cyprus. After enjoying a number of different saunas, from the wood-heated to the gas and electric heated ones, I felt I had become a connoisseur. I found good saunas and bad saunas (yes, even in Finland). I cultivated my preferences. Like a cheap wine whose flavor is enhanced by good company, my fondest memories come from times I was alongside good Finn friends, regardless of the sauna itself. Although traditional birch log saunas can be dangerous and ecologically unsound in the city, their fragrance and soft even heat makes them preferable to the electric or gas. Public saunas are usually lined with tile, being so easy to keep clean, but I prefer the natural aesthetics of those lined with wood. Normally, public saunas have a lower temperature and higher humidity which appeals to those with reluctant sweat. My favorite sauna is the smoke sauna, the savusauna, the oldest and most enduring sauna in Finland. The savusauna was conceived long before the discovery of electricity or bottled gas. It is little more than a pile of rocks in a small log cabin. There is no chimney, for smoke fills the room and eventually escapes through cracks in the roof and walls. It takes a good day's work to prepare this sauna properly and heat the hundreds of rocks and thick log walls. There are no short cuts. Wood must be chopped, the fire must be extinguished and smoke purged from the room. It was my pleasure to sweat in several savusaunas, ranging from the sophisticated model at the Finnish Sauna Society, complete with showers, dressing rooms and no responsibilities, to the rustic countryside version. Whether I hung my clothes in a tree or on a coat hanger, I was never disappointed by a savusauna. Their sooted walls emanate the savory smells of wood, earth and camaraderie. Steam reaches out from the rocks like friendly hands, dispensing their heat. The bather warms evenly, everywhere at once. With my senses warm and smiling, my mind easily drifted into revery. That was followed by a few minutes of invigorating swatting with the vihta, then a dash to a plunge hole in a frozen lake or a brisk, tingling dip, I never felt more clean and vibrant. I've been informed by Mr. Harri Koponen of Finland that as of 1998 there are 2.0 million cars (0.39 per capita) and 1.6 million saunas (0.31+ per capita). in Finland. Thanks for the update! RETURN TO TOP... NEXT CHAPTER... RETURN TO MAIN SWEAT PAGE