Banyas
After listening to me complain and rant, one very bright volunteer said this: Here are my two pieces of advice 1) Count the days in the week and never let the bad days out number the good. And 2) If the weather is nice and you’ve just had a banya and you still feel miserable, then it’s probably a good indication that Peace Corps isn’t the place for you. She was absolutely right and her advice meant so much to me that I have a feeling that a few more people could benefit from it. It helps keep things in perspective and makes you appreciate the good days which are sometimes hard to notice when you’ve had a slew of bad ones.
Back in the states, Sunday was always my least favorite day because it was a prelude to Monday. As much as I wanted to relax, I always dreaded it. Here it’s the opposite. Sunday means that I get to clean my clothes, go for a run and my favorite part, I get to clean myself. This past Sunday the heat was particularly excruciating and I didn’t drink enough water so when I went from my run to the banya, I was even dizzier than usual. (To try and explain a banya is absolutely futile, it’s something you have to experience for yourself. Even comparing it to a sauna doesn’t do it justice, but for the sake of the story, we’ll go with sauna. It’s a very humid heat, usually around (or if it’s a good one over) 115 degrees.) This time, it was the hottest banya I’ve ever had in Kyrgyzstan and I didn’t have my sister with me and I started to panic because passing out in the banya would be a fate worse than death because the door is locked from the inside… my mind started running, “what if I pass out? What if I hit my head on the cement? What if I die in here and when they come to find me I’m sweaty and naked and lying on the ground?? I bet I’d be too slippery to be picked up…” I started to hurry, washing everything quickly to get out before my water supply ran out. I even crouched down towards the bottom to see if I could get cool air into my lungs. I waited until the last possible moment and then burst out of the room. After the run and 45 minutes in the banya, I couldn’t even muster the energy to put my clothes on. After another 15 minutes I stumbled out with my clothes stuck to me, my face bright red and the Eje had a shocked look on her face, “are you okay?” I responded, “Me? Yeah. Great. No, great, I’m fine.”
Usually it takes me 5 minutes to walk home but this time it took me 20. As I was walking, I had my towel draped around my shoulders, I was taking in the scenery, enjoying my cleanliness when one Shepard who was tending his sheep called out to me, “Slokium Parum” something that you say to someone who has just had a banya. I rounded a corner, walked further and when my favorite grandpa noticed me, he called out, “Slokium Parum!” On my walk home, I have a perfect view of the mountains and on this particular day, the sky was a perfect Carolina blue, punctuated by striking white snow peaks that slowly dissolved into the dark green foothills.
That volunteer was right. On days like these, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
Back in the states, Sunday was always my least favorite day because it was a prelude to Monday. As much as I wanted to relax, I always dreaded it. Here it’s the opposite. Sunday means that I get to clean my clothes, go for a run and my favorite part, I get to clean myself. This past Sunday the heat was particularly excruciating and I didn’t drink enough water so when I went from my run to the banya, I was even dizzier than usual. (To try and explain a banya is absolutely futile, it’s something you have to experience for yourself. Even comparing it to a sauna doesn’t do it justice, but for the sake of the story, we’ll go with sauna. It’s a very humid heat, usually around (or if it’s a good one over) 115 degrees.) This time, it was the hottest banya I’ve ever had in Kyrgyzstan and I didn’t have my sister with me and I started to panic because passing out in the banya would be a fate worse than death because the door is locked from the inside… my mind started running, “what if I pass out? What if I hit my head on the cement? What if I die in here and when they come to find me I’m sweaty and naked and lying on the ground?? I bet I’d be too slippery to be picked up…” I started to hurry, washing everything quickly to get out before my water supply ran out. I even crouched down towards the bottom to see if I could get cool air into my lungs. I waited until the last possible moment and then burst out of the room. After the run and 45 minutes in the banya, I couldn’t even muster the energy to put my clothes on. After another 15 minutes I stumbled out with my clothes stuck to me, my face bright red and the Eje had a shocked look on her face, “are you okay?” I responded, “Me? Yeah. Great. No, great, I’m fine.”
Usually it takes me 5 minutes to walk home but this time it took me 20. As I was walking, I had my towel draped around my shoulders, I was taking in the scenery, enjoying my cleanliness when one Shepard who was tending his sheep called out to me, “Slokium Parum” something that you say to someone who has just had a banya. I rounded a corner, walked further and when my favorite grandpa noticed me, he called out, “Slokium Parum!” On my walk home, I have a perfect view of the mountains and on this particular day, the sky was a perfect Carolina blue, punctuated by striking white snow peaks that slowly dissolved into the dark green foothills.
That volunteer was right. On days like these, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
posted by Katie P. at 5:20 AM
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