![]() ![]() Flagellation, in this case, is anything but brutal. Occasionally, they interrupt this ritual, to whip themselves with a damp birch branch or scour their bodies with a coarse cloth. Women purge and plunge, sweat and shiver. Raw and elemental, sauna-goers alternate between the extremes. Entry to the women’s area requires I wear nothing, apart from my silver jewelry, a last layer of armor that scalds my skin in the soupy heat. The interior is as bare as I feel, and I itch for my favorite swimsuit, which hangs limply in the changing room locker. ![]() Brilliant white tiles stretch from floor to ceiling and buffed steel faucets reflect the glare from fluorescent lights-as if I am standing in an interrogation room rather than Tallinn’s oldest public sauna. The first thing that strikes me about Kalma Saun is that there is nowhere to hide. ![]()
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