Etiquette 101: Baths, Saunas, Spa Treatments

Finnish cabinet ministers do it, Russian hockey players do it, Koreans do it on a first date. Social bathing—known as "naked communion" in Japan—is an integral part of several cultures, strengthening bonds between family members, colleagues, and heads of state. In many countries it's also considered the proper way to welcome a foreign guest. Whether sauna or sento, banya or hammam, the shared bath is society's great leveler, its group hug, its collective sigh. "Not sampling the local bathing culture would be like not trying the local cuisine," says Melisse Gelula, co-founder of Well&Good NYC, an online wellness guide. And like any other institution integral to a society, this one has its rules, the first of which is to behave with churchlike decorum. In Finland, the sauna is the church, says Joonas Berghäll, co-director of the Finnish documentary Steam of Life. (Statistics bear him out: With just over five million inhabitants, Finland has roughly half that number of saunas—and a solid record as one of the least church-going countries in the world.) But what does churchlike mean? Bathhouses, like churches, have moods—some venerate, others jubilate. So visitors should always take the temperature, so to speak, to see what tone is appropriate.

The other cardinal rule: Soap and scrub everything before entering a communal pool or steam room. In Iceland, "everything" is defined by locker-room depictions of the human anatomy with highlighted areas: head, armpits, genitalia, feet. This may come as a shock, but we Americans are not known as the cleanest of the clean. Despite our fear of foreign germs, it turns out we don't all know how to wash. "Locals can become very upset by the wrong etiquette," says Susie Ellis of the Web site SpaFinder. "If you don't soap and scrub before going into the water, they can be incensed."

Encroaching modesty is another pet peeve. As spa owners around the world increasingly cater to the famously uptight American traveler (who among us isn't at least a little shocked to see a casually topless German woman on the beach—or in the sauna?), you have to wonder about the cultural impact of our prudishness (not to mention the environmental footprint left by a growing number of towels, robes, and disposable undies). At least we're learning. "Spa going is now considered a wellness activity and not just a pampering activity," says Ellis, "As more people go to spas, they're becoming more comfortable with nudity."

Alexia Brue, Gelula's business partner and the author of Cathedrals of the Flesh: My Search for the Perfect Bath, advises spa-bound travelers to quit worrying. "People stress out about the etiquette, but they don't need to." Even when there's a language barrier, basic politeness goes a long way—especially, it seems, when you're naked. "People want to help you," says Brue. "They're flattered by your interest, and they're curious about you. Even the bossy Russian women—they worried that my head would be hot and that I'd get split ends, so they made me wear a cap. I never once felt unwelcome in any of the places I visited."

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Finland: Sauna Diplomacy

The sauna is associated with life's most important events in Finland, and it inspires a mystical reverence. A generation ago, it was still the place where women gave birth. Over the years, guardians of sauna etiquette have warned against cursing, discussing religion and politics, whistling, singing, telling tales, bad-mouthing, and passing gas. In earlier times, legend holds, transgressors were punished by the saunatonttu, an elf that inhabited the sauna and protected it from evil-doers.

In the frostiest days of the Cold War, it's been said that Finnish president Urho Kekkonen kept a visiting Khrushchev in the steam until 5 a.m. Today, the country credits the many saunas built by Finnish peacekeeping troops with easing political tensions in such hot spots as Cyprus, Kosovo, and the Golan Heights. Sauna diplomacy was in danger of becoming obsolete in the 1990s, sidelined by the advancement of women in politics (the current Finnish president is a woman) and busy schedules. Since then, the power sauna has made something of a comeback.

In Washington, D.C., one of the best places to pick up a choice bit of political gossip is the Diplomatic Finnish Sauna Society, a private club that serves as a meeting place for policy wonks, Capitol Hill staffers, and journalists. "It's a good way to network on Friday evenings," says Kari Mokko, the embassy's press secretary and saunameister. Should you score an invitation—or find yourself in any other Finnish sauna—a few guidelines to consider:

Swimsuits are taboo. They're denounced by purists as uncomfortable and unclean. Men and women sauna in the nude and separately, unless they are family members or close friends.

Public saunas are equipped with showers. Wash everything, including your hair. Avoid perfumed soap, shampoo, and conditioner.

Knock before entering. If you arrive late for a sauna gathering, don't open the door to say hi. Disrobe, shower, then ask (door closed) if anybody needs anything—a towel, a drink.

Shut the door. Letting cold air in and hot air out of the sauna is a big faux pas. Try not to forget your towel or your drink.

Protect your sweaty bottom from the hot bench and vice versa. If you've wrapped a towel around your head to protect your hair, then you'll need another one to go underneath you.

Mind the sauna granny. If the sauna door bursts open and a woman wielding a bundle of leaves (a vasta) rushes in and orders you to remove your underwear, do as you're told. She is the kylvettäjä—the bath attendant—and her job is to massage and/or scrub you and to make sure you follow the rules.

You do not need to be a licensed practitioner to use a vasta. Anybody can do it—even you. The massage may be self-administered, or you and a friend can take turns.

Keep the conversation light. Avoid topics that might cause stress, especially work. Mostly, people talk about the heat. If you're at a loss for words, inquire about sauna customs, a subject the Finns never tire of discussing. And by the way, the word is pronounced SOW-na, not SAW-na. That's how the Finns say it, and they should know.

Accept a little teasing. Neophytes tend not to last more than a couple of minutes in the sauna. There are worse gaffes than being the first to leave. One is to end up on the sauna floor. Drink water, stay low and away from the corners (where heat gathers), and remember that this is not a competition.

It's okay to decline a sauna invitation. Unless, that is, the stove has been fired up just for you. If you're really not up for it, offer a medical excuse.

When to tip: "Finns do not usually tip," says the Finnish embassy's Mokko.

Germany: Regimented Relaxation

Germany's notions of spa etiquette are as precise as one might expect. There's little guesswork about when to enter the sauna, whether to pour water on the rocks, or what to wear. "The Germans have organized it," says Mikkel Aaland, author of Sweat, one of the most comprehensive books on sweat bathing ever written. The pouring, called Aufguss, is done by the saunameister in accordance with a schedule posted at the sauna entrance. Do not open the door mid-session. Nude areas are designated "towel only" or "FKK Bereich" (Freikörperkultur, or nudist area), the norm in saunas and steam rooms. Flip-flops remain outside. Keep your voice low. When to tip. "Most locals don't tip," says travel specialist Angela Turen at Churchill & Turen. "Others will give five percent to the spa attendant."

Hungary: Architectural Bonanza

Budapest's public baths are architectural wonders built around hot springs that have washed the Celts, the Romans, and the Ottoman Turks. Do's and don'ts are often posted only in Hungarian and vary from one bath to another. Pols and businessmen meet in the quiet ambience of the thermal baths at Rudas. Families with kids queue up at the Széchenyi coed complex. The luxury Corinthia Hotel's Royal Spa has a couples' treatment room, a Vichy shower, algae wraps, and limited children's hours in the pool. For those who prefer a more traditional Hungarian bath, Brian Callnan, a Vermonter who makes regular trips to Budapest, recommends winter mornings in the outdoor pools at Széchenyi, with the steam rising off the water and the snow coming down. "But bring your own food," Callnan suggests. "The snack bar sells fried pork sandwiches spread with lard—not really spa food."

Avoid disturbing your fellow bathers. Generally speaking, there's more soaking than swimming.

Beware the ever-changing dress code. Most baths have separate men's and women's hours, and nudity is generally acceptable in women's hammams. Bathing suits are required in coed pools. The standard-issue cover-up is an apron called a kötény (the women's version is bibbed). Some people wear it; others parade around in shower caps and sandals. Speedos are common in coed pools; surf shorts will mark you as a tourist.

Pack a full bathing kit. You're likely to need a bathing suit, rubber sandals, toiletries (soap, shampoo, conditioner, razor), and above all a towel (otherwise, you may end up with a rented object that resembles either a bedsheet or a baggy loincloth). Sandals are usually required in the steam room. Some pools require caps, some don't.

When to tip: "I normally give 100 to 200 huf—between 50 cents and a dollar—to the guy who opens and closes the locker or the changing cabin," says Budapester Mihály Zsilinszky. "For massages, tip an additional 200 to 400 huf if you're happy with the service."

Iceland: Hot Pots, Hot Spots

Social bathing is a national passion in Iceland, where every schoolchild learns to swim—it's a mandatory part of the curriculum—and even the smallest fishing village has a public pool. The top tourist attraction: the Blue Lagoon. Reykjavík has at least one public pool in every district; some are attached to hotel spas. Most are outdoors and have whirlpools called hot pots, where Icelanders meet and mingle. Like the baths of Budapest, each pool has its own character and revolving clientele. Shower before you swim. Little chlorine is used in the mineral-rich pools, and proper washing is a must. Strip and head for the communal men's or women's shower—no bathing suits here. Then follow the etiquette prescribed by a ubiquitous anatomical chart. Purple clouds indicate problem areas: head, armpits, genitalia, feet. Miss these, and a pointing finger may serve to remind. remove your shoes. Before entering the locker room. When to tip. "Tipping is not customary," says travel specialist Tor Jensen. "But people do round up slightly—a token small extra amount. Blue Lagoon definitely not."

Japan: For the Squeaky Clean Only

Bathing means soaking in Japan (the word for bath is furo), preferably in one of the country's numerous hot springs, or onsen. The golden rule is to immerse yourself only after you're squeaky clean. Eighteen years ago, japanese only signs began appearing on bathhouse doors in the port of Otaru. The signs, which were posted in English and Russian, followed several incidents involving drunken Russian sailors. Last year, in an effort to appear more visitor-friendly, bath house officials published a for-dummies guide in four languages. It is posted online (ota1010.com) and all over Tokyo's Ota Ward, which boasts more than 50 public bathhouses, many of them spring-fed.

Blue is for boys. Japanese bathers take it all off, but rarely in mixed company. A blue curtain at the entrance means all-clear for men, red for women.

Look for the shoe locker just inside the entrance. The floor of the changing room should remain pristine.

Scrub before you bathe. You'll find low wooden stools and wooden or plastic buckets in the washroom. Sit on the stool, fill the bucket with water, and douse yourself, being careful not to slosh your neighbor.

Rinse well but avoid wasting water. If there's a shower, open the tap, get wet, and turn off the water while you scrub.

Rinse the stool. After doing so, set the overturned bucket on top to indicate that you've cleaned your station.

Shaving and brushing teeth are allowed. Just wash the evidence down the drain.

Never dunk your towel in the pool. You will be given a bit of fabric that looks like a small towel or a large washcloth; it is used both for scrubbing and drying. While you bathe, leave it on a rock or place it, neatly folded, on top of your head. Use it to dab perspiration from your brow.

Do not let your hair trail in the furo. Unless it's very short, cover your hair with a shower cap or twist it into a topknot.

Be prepared to cover tattoos. Certain designs are associated with the yakuza (the Japanese mafia), and some establishments ban them. Which tattoos and which furos is anybody's guess. Even if you're a foreigner, your body art might be an issue.

When to tip: Never.

Russia: Business and Pleasure

The banya "tends to be slightly more of a male thing than a female thing," says Greg Tepper of Exeter International, which specializes in travel to Eastern Europe. It's a popular meeting place for friends and colleagues, and are often likened to an American golf course.

The main difference between the Finnish sauna and the Russian banya is steam—lots of it. The best advice is to lie flat; otherwise, your head will be hotter than your feet. The standard procedure is three or four sessions in the parilka (or hot room), cooling down in the main room in between.

At a high-end establishment like Moscow's Sandunovsky Baths, a professional is in charge of the vapors, pouring water infused with eucalyptus, mint, and sage and fanning the air with a towel. He also employs the venik, a bundle of birch or oak leaves soaked in water that's slapped lightly against the skin. In a neighborhood banya, it's more of a free-for-all. "Often the staff don't speak English, so they'll lead you by the hand and just push you in the right direction. It can be daunting and very funny," says Tepper, who often arranges for guides to take travelers to private clubs.

Keep your flip-flops on. The parilka is more slippery than the typical sauna.

Don't bring banned objects into the parilka. The steam room is not a place for masks, nail polish, scented beauty products, or nail clippers. Nor is it a place to read the newspaper, and the Moscow Times is not an appropriate sit-upon—cooked newsprint stinks.

Stay hydrated. "Some people drink vodka in the banya," says Tepper, "but you have to be careful." Extreme heat and alcohol are a dangerous combo. Traditionalists recommend tea, kvass, or fruit juice.

Chill out. The sexes may or may not be segregated at lakeshore banyas, where there's sometimes skinny-dipping or a nude roll in the snow.

When to tip: Give ten percent for professional services such as a venik or standard massage.

Turkey: Sandpapery Soothing

The hammam (literally translated, the word means "spreader of warmth") is an Islamic adaptation of the great Roman baths. The classic design is a series of progressively warmer chambers bathed in soft light and gentle steam, its centerpiece a domed cupola above an octagonal göbek taşi (belly stone)—a marble slab upon which you recline while soaking up the heat. (Among the most magnificent examples is Caǧaloǧlu, in Istanbul.) It may sound luxurious, but the Turkish bath is more about cleansing than pampering. Its secret weapon is a vigorous head-to-toe scrubbing, sometimes with a scratchy mitt. Well&Good's Gelula describes the experience as being peeled like a banana and hosed down like a circus elephant. "The more authentic you go, the less uptight you can be," she adds. "These are bathing rituals that made sense long before there was a spa industry."

Be mindful of the dress code. The modern hammam is secular, but certain traditions remain. Islamic etiquette requires that men cover their loins, and the dress code is still relatively modest. Men wear a pestemal, a Turkish bath towel. On the women's side, bikini bottoms or house-provided disposable undies are common. In mixed company, it's swimsuits.

Don't be bashful. The tellak, or hammam massage therapist, is typically a big, strong, scantily clad man or woman who scrubs every inch of your body, ignoring only the private parts. (Breasts and buttocks are not always considered private.) "It's like being bathed like a baby, only rougher," says Gelula.

What to say. To wish somebody a pleasant bath, say Sihhatler olsun, which means "May health be with you."

When to tip: At the end of services, attendants line up expecting a tip. Fifteen percent is usual.

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