at a sauna in stockholm

utter thoughtlessness

When’s the last time you had no thoughts whatsoever; absolutely nothing in your mind?

I don’t mean getting good rest or relaxing on vacation, but a moment you had zero notions of selfhood, without a single clue about what, or where you were?

For me, the first time I had this feeling, I was a newborn. The second time was last week at Hellasgården.

My Luxembourgish friend Cecilia lives in Sweden, and studies cultural anthropology at Stockholm University. Stockholm was the last stop on my two-week European vacation, in which I was lucky enough to 1) graduate, 2) visit my closest friends, and 3) try coffee and pastries in multiple big cities. One of the unexpected perks was getting to learn more about saunaing, and even better, getting to try it out myself in a region with a well-known sauna culture.

Bath, England surprised me: it’s famous for its ancient baths (they’re the city’s namesake), but I didn’t know the extent of what ‘baths’ meant.

not sure i’d get in this bath water honestly

The Romans used the hot mineral springs to balance their ‘four bodily humors’ (which they thought determined their health and temperament) as well as unwind and socialize. Adjacent to the picturesque baths of Bath are the ruins of an exercise gym, a cold plunge pool, and male + female sauna rooms, heated by the smoke of hot fires that were pumped underneath the floor.

Before my trip, I deep-researched saunaing and wrote an article about how beneficial the practice is for our bodies. Walking through what felt like an ancient YMCA was nothing short of enthralling: of course we love doing it; we’ve been doing it for thousands of years, all across the world.

just guys being dudes

All these rooms in conjunction not only aided wellness, but as we know, must’ve also just felt great to utilize. On a wall beside the holographic men was a quote from someone called Galen, from the 2nd Century AD: “How great a good for health exercises are… The best of all not only exercise the body vigorously, but also a delight the soul!”

At coffee with my friend Lia a week before, something she said stuck with me for its simplicity: those who sauna regularly and work out often don’t do it because they’re super disciplined; they do it just because it feels good.

I hadn’t thought of it like that—and yet one of the biggest selling points for regular sauna-use in my article is how it creates a physical high. Using the sauna regularly, I crave it intensely whenever I break the habit.

I was itching to sauna towards the tail-end of my vacation, and Cecilia knew exactly where to go. We caught a bus to Hellasgården: a nature reserve and recreational site with a sauna and surrounding lake.

We rented towels, a locker to share, and I bought myself a white sauna hat that made it look like I was wearing the knob of a tea kettle on my head. (At least, that’s what the Swedish woman sitting next me in the sauna said.)

Unlike American saunas, it’s expected that you use it fully naked, sitting on your towel. If you don’t sit on a towel, you’ll burn yourself.

“Look, the wood is graying. It’s genuinely burning!” Celeste laughed, pointing at the wood’s discolored edges. I’ve truly never ever been in a hotter sauna; even a bathing suit would’ve felt suffocating.

Cecilia and I could only stand the intense heat for about ten minutes at a time. To cold plunge, rather than using a shower or a tank, we planned to cool off in the nearby lake.

Beside the roomy wooden sauna was a rustic café, where bundled-up Swedes sat outside in coats, hats, and scarves. Walking towards the lake in our towels (and in 45°F weather), these cold café-goers made our choice to skinny-dip all the more daunting.

Bathing suits were suggested for swimming in the lake, but we learned they weren’t mandatory. Cecilia and I opted for the easiest option; shielding each other with towels from strangers’ gazes in tandem as we submerged ourselves in the water.

Our first dip was the worst. Climbing down a metal ladder, we cold-plunged in turns, the other holding a towel for privacy’s sake. I must’ve only been able to handle 15 to 20 seconds, rapidly huffing in lieu of screaming at the top of my lungs.

I thought again about Lia’s comment, freezing to the point of pain: this didn’t feel good, necessarily. Cecilia and I were essentially shocking ourselves for fun.

But the pain proved to be worth it. When I handed Cecilia her towel, I noticed my vision was slowly narrowing and widening. My body felt light as air.

Gazing around at the brown and grey tree-line while standing on the dock, I suddenly had no thoughts whatsoever. I was peacefully confused, taking in the scenery like an alien dropped into a human’s body, newly adjusting to the rules of sight and sound. Energy pulsed readily through me, and all I could consider were my surroundings: I became a mirror.

Cecilia was thankfully just as disoriented as I was, and we tried desperately through surprised laughter to explain exactly what we felt—but the unique mix of pleasure, confusion, and pain was impossible to describe.

We went right back into the sauna, repeating the cycle of blinding heat and freezing cold twice over. The initial thoughtlessness was gone, yet each round was mesmerizing in its own painful yet euphoric way.

On our final walk to the lake, we approached three young boys and their parents, all shivering together on the east end of the dock. The sons were barely teens, wet and sputtering, wearing shocked smiles on their faces. It looked like they’d jumped in only moments before.

Helping dry them off as we passed by, their father announced; “This is living, boys. This is what living feels like.”

Cecilia walked ahead of me, and turned around to make knowing eye contact. We couldn’t help but laugh.

w/ love,

Constanze