The story of New York’s East Village Russian and Turkish Baths goes all the way back to 1892, but the activities going inside has changed very little – Essentially you get very hot and come out a pure of heart. People come here from all over the city – Uptown, downtown, all the outer boroughs and even New Jersey to spend the day doing what they do best, relax. The demographic of the baths span the ages from those in their freshman year at NYU to Hasidic geriatrics and all in between. There are regulars who swear by the place and those who go once and decide it is not for them.
When you see this sign, stop, you've arrived.
Many key human interactions play themselves out in this steamy Petri dish, where the close quarters and the physical aspect of shedding one’s garb and perhaps some dead skin make it an ideal substitute for a shrink’s office. Snippets of conversation waft through the thick aromatic steam and in and out of focus behind the white noise of hissing pipes. Life’s most intimate moments can unfold here, from the gentle massage of a husband to his wife’s head, to the break up of a young couple when an unforeseen trigger brings latent feelings to the surface. There are scars, tattoos, and body types worn without shame or judgment. Yuppies who discuss multimillion-dollar mergers and business plans, to people who spend all day because the $35 dollar daily rate is that much dough to them.
One of the very unique things about this business in particular is the way it is run. There are two distinct owners and operating styles. Every other week the business changes hands. Back and forth between an old school immigrant and a second-generation entrepreneur, two big personalities who share the same space but emphasize different aspects and have their own loyal clientele. David is the younger of the two. He and his coworkers are more about bringing in new blood with modern technologies such as email blasts and groupons. His foil is the tough skinned, steely eyed Boris who still operates in old world terms, wheeling and dealing with each customer in a dead pan heavily accent Russian voice. I am curious as to how this bipolar business model works and how it came to be. There is clearly a deep seeded history to be explored here.
Platza in the radiant heat room
The fellows who perform platza massages at the baths are a distinct breed as well. A pair of brothers who know how to withstand the 200-degree heat while simultaneously contorting a body into different shapes and scrubbing every inch of it down with bundles of eucalyptus soaked oak leaves. Stop on the roof patio to regroup and feel the breeze on your skin. Maybe have a beer and some traditional delicacies from the kitchen. Once you're in there's no excuse to leave until you're good and ready.
This is a place where you can go to shut your mind off and be present in your own vessel while letting your cares, worries, and everyday routines melt away in the heat behind the hiss of steam. The transition from extravagant curiosity has quickly become a mainstay in my mental and physical health. One of my favorite places in this city.