To properly capture the full arc of day five, we have to begin before dawn.

Russian train cars are charming in many ways, but climate control is not one of those ways. (Also septic disposal, which is accomplished by simply flushing the toilet onto the tracks—but I digress.) Some cars feature a top window that tips open, but we would not benefit from this feature until our second night. Our little room grew very warm that night, and the film of sweat left on our skin from our sprint to the station didn’t help. At 3:30 AM, giving up on falling asleep, I left the compartment to relieve myself, which was bad timing because we’d stopped at a station. The restrooms are locked any time the train is anywhere near a town (see above re: septic design), so it was another half hour before that bit of business could be accomplished. The hallway felt ten degrees cooler than our compartment, so I grabbed my book and pulled down a hallway seat to read. I eventually did get a few hours of sleep that night, but we were all slightly dazed when we pulled into Petrozavodsk at 8:45. We did our best to bathe with a few wet wipes, pulled out fresh T-shirts, and trooped into the little Soviet train station.

One quick, over-priced cab ride later we were at the Karelia Hotel. We searched for some breakfast but the proud owners of the fancy new Karelia Hotel also had a rather un-fancy but over-priced buffet breakfast, and the cafe down the street wasn’t open yet. Instead we wandered down to the hotel’s Pony Club (ooolala!) and waited for the bus that would take us to the boat dock.

To reach our island destination we would be riding Meteors: 70’s-era hydrofoil boats boasting a vivid green paint job and designed like a spaceship from an old sci-fi magazine. They cut the three-hour boat ride down to one, and have a little capsule of an observation deck to boot.

Our destination was Kizhi, the island museum. The first view from the Meteor was quite a sight:

The theme of the museum is “wood”. Russians really like wood, even if it’s clearly fake. Everything in Beth’s apartment is wood, and if it isn’t wood, they cover it with fake wood. Kitchen floor: fake “inlaid” wood linoleum tiles. Bathroom walls: fake wood wallpaper. Bathroom baseboard: different fake wood wallpaper. Bathroom door: fake wood veneer. Same for the subway car interiors. Which is odd, but also kinda cool in a retro sorta way.

This island, however, was all the real deal. Old wooden structures collected from all over Russia: big churches, little churches, windmills, merchant houses, farmhouses, cabins. All made entirely of wood. No nails, no metal fasteners; just an ax and a damn good carpenter.

The light poured down from a cotton-cloud sky, strange Russian birds chirped in the grasses, and the noise and the heat and the smog of Moscow was long gone.

At the end of the track we discovered the prize: playground!

Hey, what are those kids playing on? Maypole!

We wanna play on the maypole too!

Ahh yeah. Rocking the maypole.

We’re like, professional level maypolers. Check out these moves.

And theeeeennnnn….

Snap.

Due to a frayed, weather-beaten rope, Andrew comes crashing to the ground. Ruffled but unharmed (near miss!) Andrew bounded up, and we all bounded off for the return boat. Shortly after boarding, the other three conked out.

I opted for the observation deck again. Because, look, there was all this to breathe in:

Not an awesome sight, so much as an overwhelmingly beautiful one. And, for me, shaded by melancholy. It’s a sad thing to look at a beautiful piece of the world, and know you will see it only this one last time.

~~~

By now it’s around 4:30 PM, with a half hour left on the Meteor. We have no concrete plans until our next train leaves at 11. Beth had mentioned earlier she’d like to find a “banya” that night, but she didn’t know where one might be and hadn’t found one on the Internet. I didn’t really know what a banya was, but since I was (inexplicably) not feeling tired, I did have an idea of how to find out.

During the day we had befriended two young women: Maria and Svetlana. Both are from Petrozavodsk, but Maria attends the University of Minnesota and has lived in the U.S. for the last eight years. Maria is the sort of cheerful, outgoing person who must make friends with nearly everyone she meets, and as soon as she heard us speaking English we quickly made the Minnesota connection, learned she had a friend that went to Carleton, and the chit-chat just rolled on from there.

I climbed back through the Meteor, found Maria, and explained that we were really hoping to find this “banya” thing, and did she know of any? She said she didn’t, being out of town so long, but Svetlana (the quiet one, since she doesn’t really speak English) sure did. Before we’d left that boat we had a hand-drawn, two-sided map (in Russian and English) detailing the three best options near the train station.

Armed with this gift, we thanked them profusely, hopped on the city bus, and headed back downtown. After a quick bite to eat at an odd fashionista cafe where all the cool kids in Petrozavodsk seem to hang out, we set out to follow Svetlana’s map.

Now, I was rather charmed by Petrozavodsk by this time, with it’s soviet-era vehicles and smaller-city vibe, but it’s true that pulling off the main drag from the train station things started to look a little sketch. Beautiful when lit by the long-setting sun, but not really the neighborhood any of us expected to find a nice place to bathe…

Our hearts began to sink. Maybe we were reading the map wrong. This couldn’t be right. Now we’re just going to have to trudge all the way back, sit in the smelly station for three hours, board the train tired and unwashed, and try to sleep through another hot night. Do not want.

Wait, though. There’s a little sign that says CAYHA. (Sauna.) Looks like it roughly corresponds to #1 on Svetlana’s map. Not much to see from the outside, but…..hell. Let’s just go in and see.

40 bucks to have the whole damn building to ourself for an hour? Well, you sure can’t beat the price, but who knows what kind of run down, unpleasant little room lay behind the…

Helllooooooo CAYHA!

Giddy with delight, we took our showers, grabbed our towels, rushed past the billiard tables, and began baking ourselves in the dry heat. For a full hour we alternated between the heat and the cool pool. The sweat of the train rolled away, the grit of the Petrozavodsk air dislodged, and we sank with satisfaction into a limp, unhurried relaxation.

Svetlana and Maria, wherever you are: thank you again.

With just the right amount of time to spare, we rolled back into the train station feeling like new human beings. Beth and Elizabeth ducked into a market to find us all some dinner, we pulled our bags out of the train station locker, and we settled in again for our second overnight ride. This time south, to St. Petersburg.