"Y Sawna..."

Posted: 11 October, 2024

At the end of the first month in Finland, I was invited to a birthday party thrown for my partner’s grandfather. I’d not met any of her wider family, so it was a good way to meet a load of people and break the ice. Nice venue, nice food, and everyone was keen to put a name to a face. A couple of hours in, mid-afternoon, it was time for the Sauna. I’d had a few before, but mostly at people’s houses, post-pub, this was my first at the lake, on a sunny day, in one of the larger wood burning public ones, of which there are many. Dudes go first – yeah, I know – and Ladies take the second slot. What I wasn’t expecting, as I walked out bollock naked, was for the female side of the family to be sat at the edge of the lake supping their Lonkeros… If you’re going to meet someone’s granny, well, doing it with your nob out is one way…

You rapidly get over the Anglo obsession about nudity when you live in Europe. More so when you live in a country where Sauna is life. In the Sauna, everyone is equal. I’ve Sauna’d with people I’d never expect to bump into, day to day. Talked shit, shared war stories, and drank many a Jaloviina. Every office of note has a Sauna. And so did all my apartments.

If you’ve not experienced it, it’s a little hard to explain. It’s not a steam room. It’s 80-90 degrees, occasionally more. When you pour water over the stones, the steam – löyly – hits you in waves. It can burn. It can sting. And then it subsides, and you bask in the heat. When you’re hot, you jump in a lake, regardless of the weather, and have a paddle to cool down. In the winter, this means walking 20 or 30m (in sub-zero temperatures) to jump (or in my case “ease”) in to water that’s hovering around the 1 or 2 degree mark. My first few attempts, I’ll admit, were pretty short-lived. I doggy-paddled for a few seconds and then bounced the fuck out as quickly as my numb hands and feet would let me. And then I felt amazing.

There’s nothing quite like standing outside in sub-zero temperatures (-28 is my personal best) in nothing but a towel, supping a beer, as the lake water evaporates off you. And then you go back in and do it all over again. Four or five trips. An hour or more with your homies. And a hell of a kick to the system.

I sleep like a baby, every time.

You’d expect this to be a winter thing, but summer Saunas are even better. They can last half the day. There’re floating Saunas, poodling around the lakes, that you can hop on and off. There are Saunas by everyone’s cabin. It’s a thing.

And fuck, I miss it.

I’ve tried every Sauna I’ve been near since I’ve come back to the UK. The first, a proper Finnish Barrel Sauna had a sign on the front saying “50’s Plenty”. 50’s no where fucking near plenty, I promise you. It’s not even warm. We once found one in Cumbria, that advertised itself as the “authentic Finnish experience”, and they wouldn’t let you pour water on the stones, which er, makes it a warm box, not an authentic Finnish Sauna! Basically, I’d given up ever having a proper Sauna over here, despite my Fiancée’s valiant attempts at finding me one.

And then she struck gold. Y Sawna, a Finnish Barrel Sauna, run by a local company that parks-up at the top of the Blorenge – the hill we live directly under! – every Sunday.

We went last week and I was quietly hopeful. I’d heard good things. And. It. Was. Perfect. 80 degrees (good enough), wood burning and with a bucket full of water by the stones. It was properly spikey once I’d given it a few scoops of water. Sting the tops of your ears hot. As it should be. I was glowing for hours after.

At 12 quid per 30-minute block it’s not exactly what I’d call cheap, and for context, all you could eat was 5e in Tampere, but beggars can’t be choosers, and I have been begging for a long old time.

So that’s my Sunday ritual for the winter. Hallelujah! (And what a stroke of luck!)

Y Sawna

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