I had never been to a bathhouse, so I was hesitant when I reached the steep steps in front of the unassuming building tucked into quiet 10th Street. Upon entering, I was greeted by harsh lighting and chatter in both English and Russian from a restaurant area to the left of the entrance. There were people in bathing suits and towels walking right past the door — many young and fit and one older, Russian and sporting a full belly.
January 2, By Colin Warren-Hicks. Bath Night, circa And it feels it: the baths have the aura of an era lost to our world of flipped switches and pushed buttons.
David Abrams cooling off with ice water in a sauna at the Russian and Turkish Baths. By Annie Correal. It was cold out, and people crowded the saunas — young, slim and in skimpy bathing suits.
Winter rolls around and my mind inevitably turns to Doctor Zhivago and sable-coated fantasies of moving to Brighton Beach. It was in this class that I learned about Bannik, the spirit of the bathhouse in Slavic mythology. Russians of old believed that it was important to behave properly when visiting a banya or else you might insult Bannik, who made his home in the sauna oven. Bathers would give him offerings—loaves of salted bread or a slaughtered chicken to be buried beneath the threshold.
By Hannah Frishberg. If you want to be massaged, surrounded by salt, beaten with oak leaves or chow down on blini or dumplings, we have the place for you — and the inside knowledge to make the most of it. Want to wish a fellow banya-goer well?
Spent hours here shvitzing and shmoozing with the regulars- ladies day on a Boris week. If you're I've been going to the Baths for 25 years.
Russian and Turkish Baths remains one of the few, true melting pots in New York. Step through the tenement door on 10th Street in Manhattan's East Village, and you'd be forgiven for thinking you'd walked through a time warp. The institution has survived wave after wave of tumultuous change in the city, it's grimy come-whoever spirit intact.
In any case, the Platza Oak Leaf treatment is really just a man named Victor pouring buckets of water over your head and then methodically flapping a bundle of leaves on your back in a sauna. This was before I became an international lifestyle influencer. This time, due to the scheduling restrictions of being an international lifestyle influencer I spent the morning at a Salvation Army where a truck was unloading a bunch of pre-worn knock-off Supreme merch, then I went to the opening of an envelopeI could only make it for coed hours. Going back to the Russian baths provoked a bit of anxiety.
When it is cold and gloomy, one of the best things you can do is to go to a bathhouse — as I did yesterday, while the cold spell is back to the US Northeast. New York City has several options. There are also massage rooms with treatments e.
NYC is dripping with places to sweat out stress, heat your body to the core, and drink all the beet juice you desire. The bathhouse is traditionally a place where people go to unwind, socialize, and recharge, and in New York City, taking a steam bath to destress and decompress could be just what everybody needs to make it through the slog of winter. Spending a few hours steaming in the sauna with friends and family is the custom in many wintry climates, and although American culture has yet to enthusiastically embrace the practice, the saunaphiles of New York City refuse to let this enviable tradition slip through their fully relaxed and sweaty fingers.