Sauna distancing


Today, the news was out: public saunas in Helsinki will be gradually re-opening after being closed for more than two months. During the recent pandemic, I have envied people for owning two things in Finland: private cars and saunas. (Yes: this is how small, privileged first-world problems I personally have to endure at the moment...)

Cars can be rented or bought; but it is more challenging to organise a sauna of one's own when living in a city.

When Covid-19 restrictions in March started, most blocks of flats closed their communal saunas for inhabitants; and so did all the amazing public saunas in Helsinki, too. Then the southern Finnish region of Uusimaa was blocked for three weeks, and in general, travelling anywhere outside one's own city was not recommended, which left summer/rental cottages with saunas also outside our options.

It has to be noted that in Finland though, I am in a minority with my sauna troubles. According to a huge sauna survey with over 24,000 respondents (Ilta-Sanomat in Finnish), more than 80% of Finns have regular access to sauna even during the pandemic.

Ice-hole swimming from a sauna, winter 2019

Our apartment building has also a rather worn-out basement sauna that can usually be booked almost any day or time you wanted. Following the regulations in March, we agreed in the tenants' WhatsApp group to keep at least 7 days between each sauna session, to avoid spreading infections through the sauna. A few weeks ago we decided to relax the rule further, and to only keep 1-2 days between users of the sauna, but making sure to clean it properly after each use. 

In most apartment buildings in Helsinki, the saunas in communal use were closed altogether, so our case was a good one. But despite having the best saunas in the world, our basement is unfortunately not the greatest example of Finnish saunas. This is why I have really longed for the proper, wood-heated saunas that people have in their homes, or those public saunas in Helsinki that have been closed because of the Covid-19.

Sauna can be a form of art as well!

But why is it so important to have regular access to sauna? 

It is difficult to explain. It is the "sauna spirit": the relaxation and ensuing feeling of wholeness that is impossible to get from anywhere else than a real sauna. I do not feel myself properly clean without going to sauna.

And, well, the relaxing effect seems to stimulate also brain activity, as I had the urge to write the first notes for this blog post - reviving this ancient blog after six years of hiatus - just after going to our basement sauna. Sitting on the balcony of our apartment, sipping a lovely Savanna cider, and admiring the exquisite early summer in bloom outside: what a better way to spend those precious moments after sauna!

Sauna in Iceland, in the middle of nowhere. Heated by hot springs.

This sudden lack of saunas has brought to my mind different sauna experiences abroad. It is quite telling that a few years ago, I spent a small fortune in various pampering Ayurvedic treatments in Bali, but actually felt most happy when going to a very normal, plain sauna at the end of the treatment. Just enjoying time alone and finally being able to relax. I might just as well paid only for the sauna...

During my Erasmus+ university year in INALCO, Paris, I bought an annual Club Med gym card. It provided unlimited access not only to a wide range of dance and sport classes from Body Combat to African dance, but most importantly, to sauna in almost every arrondissement of Paris. I remember marveling other gym-goers who showered with their panties on, or listened to music with their headphones on in the sauna.

Regular sauna in Paris also helped to cope with my freezing apartment. "We do not heat our houses like in the America," my landlady used to say and laugh when I complained about the temperature.

In Bhutan, I developed a similar regular customer relationship with the very expensive Amankora Resort in Thimphu. Luckily, Amankora offered much more affordable local prices for their incredible massage treatments which also included the use of a steam sauna. Massage, steam sauna and tea served after the massage always gave enough courage to run downhill to our apartment (around 15-minute walk downhill, 20-minute walk uphill) with a stick in my hand, and hope that none of the bloodthirsty dogs guarding people's houses will attack me on the way home.

The traditional hot-stone bath is kind of close to a sauna experience in Bhutan.

We tried quite a few saunas in Bhutan. One of the most remarkable was a sauna where the heat was maybe 50 degrees Celsius (it is VERY low for a Finnish sauna), and they served us tea and magazines to read in the sauna.

Another interesting experience was making a sauna whisk out of hemp that grew everywhere in Thimphu, resulting to a rather interesting smell inside the sauna when we hit each other with the whisk. 

Usually the sauna whisk in Finland is made out of birch twigs, and the best time to make them is actually in the next few weeks. Have to hurry!

Sauna whisk with hemp. Never tried that before!

One of the loveliest sauna experiences outside Finland has been - surprise, surprise - in Sweden! Riberborgs kallbadhus in Malmö came up in two of my posts when I searched my Facebook updates with the word "sauna". And for a reason: it has character and history, you can swim in the sea (naked if you like), there are different saunas available, and if you are hungry, you can also eat in the adjoined restaurant.


Part of my work in the recent years has been to offer Finnish experiences for our guests, international students or staff from vocational colleges abroad. Sauna is usually on the list of Finnish experiences offered.

Just in the past year, I have been to different saunas at least four times during my work day/night, and also outside working hours with German, Dutch, Spanish and French guests. These have usually been mixed saunas, meaning swimming suits on.  Finnish traditional smoke sauna has been a bit of a culture shock to some students who have had difficulties grasping that the shower means having a bucket of water inside the sauna (or alternatively, the freezing lake).

Talking about Finnish sauna traditions is also part of the orientation for Erasmus+ exchange students coming to Western Uusimaa: "Sauna is actually one of the very few Finnish language words that is commonly used in English; we have maybe 3 million saunas; this is what you do/don't do in a sauna; and here is a list of dozen public saunas in Helsinki you can try yourself, I have been to them all." I have even made a table of traditional and modern public saunas in Helsinki, describing my preferences and comparing their advantages, prices and rules. From some saunas you have the possibility to swim in the sea all year round, while others may have distinct values such as better "löyly".

This strong emphasis on saunas in the orientation may have resulted in Erasmus+ students wondering "who is this crazy sauna woman, and why are we in Finland in the first place", but hopefully it has also conveyed my enthusiasm and deep love for the Finnish sauna.

Birch leaf from a sauna whisk on my foot. After-sauna at the summer cottage.

But now, summer is here, season between "bird cherries and lilac" as the Swedish expression goes, something that I learnt yesterday in our choir practice organised through Zoom. It looks promising, as I have already booked a time slot in the best sauna in Helsinki, on the Lonna island. Last year I overheard a conversation when sitting inside that very same sauna: "If I won the lottery, I would build myself a sauna like this." Only in Finland. Only in the sauna.

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