Going to the sauna

Today my friend Silvi invited me to go to the sauna with her and a co-worker, who was so pregnant, her baby could have decided to be born in the changing room. It generated a lot of pondering in me.

For starters, I think it is fascinating that the sauna is a whole day event in Germany, not an afterthought at the end of a workout or a swim at ACAC. There are in any given area numerous elaborately landscaped wellness centers with half a dozen varieties of saunas, and - surprisingly - the clientèle is middle class. Something that I associate with absolute luxury and self-indulgence is something a lot of Germans would sooner equate with getting a car inspected: going to the sauna is prudent and, like everything in Germany, features prescribed routines.

After the 90 degree sauna (that's Celsius), for example, you must hose yourself down with ice water, jump in a cold swimming pool/lake, soak your feet, drink water, recline and read, have a warm shower, and then you can repeat the process. Regular sauna visitors - and there are many - regale the benefits of subjecting your body to temperature extremes, including everything from fighting minor infections before they flare up into flus and colds to keeping the skin shiny and fresh. And according to general wisdom, nothing speaks against a pregnant woman enjoying the sauna with her belly at the bursting point. You can't start early enough introducing your child to life's fundamental pleasures (of which the sauna is decidedly one), and if you are really attuned to prenatal health, sauna is part of the plan. So it is said.

Luckily pregnant women in the sauna means a visual treat for the rest of us. And that brings us to the next point: for me the most exciting thing about the sauna is nakedness.

First of all, I secretly love studying naked people. Not the sexy ones with varnished bodies and Chippendale muscles; I see enough of their nakedness in advertising. The ones I like to see are the ones who wouldn't volunteer to be nude models for an art class: the ones with stodgy, square, wrinkly, hairy, or weathered bodies. The ones that look human.

But even more than being invited to glimpse the nakedness of others in an environment of trust, I love being naked. The first time I went to a public sauna palace six years ago, I was terribly reluctant to part with my clothes. But I was even more reluctant to put them on again. Oh, how cumbersome they felt after a day of being dressed in nothing but water, unprotected, exposed, and free. On top of that I remember being acutely aware of their musty smell. They weren’t dirty, just worldly, and my senses had been awakened by all the deep breathing. That day I wrote in an email to a friend, “I think I could get addicted to public nakedness.” I did.

Why don’t Americans like going to the sauna to the same degree as Germans? They embrace lots of other indulgent things in the name of health and well-being. Are they too prudish to be seen in public naked? Do they lack free time? Do they find it too primitive and prefer hobbies that are technologically advanced, like jet skiing or playing virtual reality video games? Do they find sitting in other peoples’ sweat unsanitary? Some combination of factors is probably at work, but which is the most important? Please weigh in with your ideas.