СМИ и баня

Mass communications and the bath house

Wednesday, July 20th

Once upon a time at Smolny institute, there was a class called SMI. It was just a one credit, once a week class about Russian communications. All the students who were cruelly forced to sit through it for an hour and a half loathed that class. They came up with names for it, and referred to the after-class brain pain as “getting SMI’d on.” They would dread going to it at least 24 hours before it began. The teacher, Leonid, was nice enough, but his subjects were boring and his voice (particularly in Russian, because that’s how all the classes go) lulled one to sleep. The first few classes, on babushkas and Dostoevsky, made the students want to scratch their eyeballs out. Then, one Tuesday, everything changed.

Leonid walked into the tiny room, his arms laden with articles as usual. The students inwardly groaned. He placed them on the table, where they remained untouched for the rest of class, then began the most interesting lecture any of them had taken yet at Smolny.

He began by telling the students that the highest salaries in Russia are paid to the KGB. That Europe and the rest of the world treat Russia like children, while the people cried out that it’s only their government that acts so. He calmly explained that 20 members of his family had been liquidated under the USSR, and he learned English and German as an escape from that broken system. Because, apparently, all those in charge of Russia today were once powerful under the USSR. He dared the students to look it up on the internet, though no one doubted him. He then launched into a story of a small village outside of Ekaterinburg called Sagra.

 Ekaterinburg is notoriously run by drug lords and gangsters, and the people of Sagra began to try to clean drugs out of their town. Two weeks ago, 60 gangsters of Ekaterinburg, led by one drug lord and armed to the teeth with machine guns and grenades, attacked Sagra in retaliation. They planned to kill everyone; women, children, the sick and the elderly…the townsfolk, when they heard, planned to defend themselves. They told the police, who merely said “well you’re not being attacked right now, so we don’t understand the problem.” 9 men, armed with simple hunting rifles, made their way into the woods to defend against automatic weapons and Caucasian gangsters. They managed to shoot the drug lord first, and the rest of the gangsters panicked and ran. They weren’t courageous enough to fight these 9 people, who were willing to risk their lives for their little town. Afterwards, these 9 men were arrested for the murder of that drug lord. They are currently in jail, and will most likely face at least 30 years in jail for defending their town against a senseless massacre…because they have no money to bribe the police or the judge, whereas those gangsters had plenty.

Leonid looked down after the story, breathed heavily, and said that Russians aren’t wild, they’re not xenophobic, they’re not mean…they’re just tired. Tired of not being able to rely on a government they don’t believe will ever help them, tired of working all their lives to barely scrape out a decent living, tired of trying to defend their livelihoods only to be thrown in jail when they can’t come up with enough bribe money. The confirmation of the corruption came when the only two news anchors brave enough to comment on this story were fired on the spot.

Talk about perspective. We talk about extreme censorship after Janet Jackson’s boob slipped out. I don’t think there’s much comparison between American media control (though, of course, I don’t deny that it exists. Or that it’s excusable) and Russian, especially with this story in mind. You can go look it up on the internet; some underground and western media sources have a few articles on it…

So, moving on from the huge downer…Wednesday is our day off, so a few other people and I went to the banya with Katya, our coordinator. We talked the day before and decided to splurge the extra 50 rubles (3 dollars) for a private banya, rather than one filled with naked babushkas. We met outside of a metro station and walked over. I, the smarty pants that I am, totally forgot my bathing suit. So I was going in the nude. However, a couple other girls had the same problem…and that’s part of the whole experience anyways. The banya was in a courtyard…I’m pretty sure the woman that ran it just turned her apartment into a banya and just lives in one tiny little room. She led us back to a room with a couch, billiards table, and dartboard. We paid our fee for two hours and stripped down. I also forgot shower sandals…but once again. Russian banya’s all about the authentic experience. The banya included a shower, massage table (we didn’t touch that), a sauna, and a small, cold pool. Katya bought us a veniki, or a birch branch that after an hour or so we would beat each other with in the sauna (apparently it gets rid of cellulite. I think that’s just an excuse to beat people though). The sauna was around 200 degrees, and I was happy to just sit in it and roast…but Katya kept ushering me out because “that’s dangerous.” Pfft. Dangerous my ass…

Okay. Might’ve been a bit dangerous. But whatever.

After an hour, Katya asked us with a sly smile “who wants to get beaten first?” Tricia volunteered, and Katya had her lay down in the sauna. A few of us packed in to watch as Katya dipped the veniki in water, then held it over the hot stones, then repeated a few times. She shook some water over Tricia’s back, then proceeded to whack the crap out of her. She asked Tricia if it hurt…but Tricia just giggled. She kept going, pressing the veniki against Tricia’s back and legs, and just continued to whap her. After a few more minutes, Katya had to get out, because beating people in 200 degrees can be a little strenuous. There was a whole process to it too…the person getting beat couldn’t be in the sauna until just before the beating…their skin had to be a certain shade of red…all sorts of things.

After Tricia’s beating, she proceeded to beat the crap out of me. Except I got to have my bare ass beaten too, considering I was naked in all my glory. It really didn’t hurt since the veniki had been soaking for the hour we had waited to start the beatings. It was also fragrant, and afterwards I was a bit covered in little leaves.

Banya’s really need to catch on in America. Here, most people go weekly, if not more. I mean, I understand why. Afterwards I got the best night of sleep I’ve had in a while, and just felt pleasantly relaxed. I hope you all know that when I return, we’re saunaing, and I’m whacking the crap out of you with a branch. No getting around it. Just accept it.