Water, hot and cold, with cups, and without conveniences

I am an American prude in the puritan spirit, so while I may be fascinated by public drinking and political sex scandals, I simultaneously despise the idea of being publically naked. This is why we Americans have fear and anxiety dreams where we’re naked and can’t find our clothes, why some feel more comfortable giving a speech if they imagine everyone else naked, and why during breast exams, doctors think it is perfectly normal if we only wish to expose one breast at a time. Both at once? How embarrassing!

Aika, who I suppose I could call my "homestay sister", comes to my room while I’m doing my homework, trying to master the genitive singular case, and asks me if I would like to go to the banya. I know it will make a good blog post, and the house doesn’t have a shower, so I say yes.

“But,” she says in English, “I don’t know if you’ll like it. It is water, hot and cold, with cups, and without conveniences.”

I establish that there will be no more than a few people inside at once. She tells me it is their own private banya, and while they used to allow other people to use it for a fee, now it is just for their family.

The Banya

Now I am well aware I am not the first white girl to go to Central Asia and get weirded out in a banya. Yet the story seems worth relating anyhow.

The banya has three rooms – a cold room for changing, a warm room with hot and cold water for washing, and a steam sauna. Aika is nowhere to be seen, and I find myself in the sauna with her mother. First we entered the sauna and steamed for awhile while massaging ourselves with black salt. This was, at times, a team effort. A few times she threw water onto the heater and then would instruct me, with a strong sense of urgency, to sit or lay in various positions to allow the steam to take maximum effect, cleansing various anatomical regions. With my back on the damp wooden bench of the sauna, I remembered Aunt Grace's story of sauna contracted scalp infection. I make a mental note to google the Patron Saint of communicable diseases for future reference.

The Mother-in-Law's stare

Then into the warm room. Warm and cold water, with cups and without conveniences. Accurate description. I'm scrubbing relentlessly with my bright green Chinese exfoliation mitt, purchased at the market for about 45 cents, acutely aware of Host Mother's not so subtle stare. It's been relentless since the sauna.

This immediately brought to mind the story of one of my favorite Turkish teachers in Istanbul, Zeki Bey. He told us once of how mothers helped their sons choose wives back in the “good old days.” The son may see the face of a beautiful girl in the window of her house. But because she is not allowed to leave home, the boy has no way of seeing any more of her. As Zeki said, “Maybe she only has one leg! Maybe there is some problem with her arm.” You wouldn’t want to choose a wife with a beautiful face but an…undeveloped body.

So, the son would tell his mother who he had his eye on. The mother would go to the hamam, with the rest of the village women, and scope out the potential daughter-in-law. She would determine whether or not the girl was missing a leg, an arm, or child-bearing hips. After hearing the report from his mother, the son could make a more informed decision.

Although I know that my host mother has no intention of marrying me off to her son, this is how I felt in the banyo.

“Are your mother's [indecipherable Russian word (IRW)] like mine or [IRW] like yours?”

Usually I am pretty good at guessing out of context, but horrified as I was, I think I just made a confused face.

This time with very specific miming, gesturing and pointing: “ARE YOUR MOTHER’S [IRW] [IRW] LIKE MINE OR [IRW] LIKE YOURS?!”

As Nargiza told me in the "Everything I Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten" lecture, family is very important in Kyrgyzstan. This question asked to someone who is easily embarrassed during breast exams. I don’t know what I said, but she replied “Good.”

A bit later, she points to my knee and says [Indecipherable Russian sentence (IRS)]. I curse myself for not being on top of leg hair removal. I open my mouth and say [nothing]. She points again, and I see she has noticed a scar the size of a watermelon seed I don’t think I’ve ever even noticed. This is Elizabeth’s naked nightmare.

The Verdict

Back to the sauna. More acrobatics to take full advantage of the steam. Back to the other room for more exfoliation. I'm scolded for using soap too soon, and not using enough water. "We have lots of water!" More humiliation by visual examination. She insists I haven't washed my back enough and does it herself.

I'm finally finished and have lost a few pounds in dead skin and water weight.

At dinner, Host Mother smiles at me. Would it be projecting to add the adverb knowingly? I try not to picture her picturing me naked. Just when I convince myself she's only being friendly, she hands me the bread basket.

"Eat more bread!." Another [IRS] while she outlines a not so charitable womanly profile she claims to be me. "You're too skinny."

Will I go next week? Of course. Public humiliation is a small price to pay for such a fantastic spa treatment.

10 points to whoever could guess what the most embarrassing part was. Through email only, please.