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Irish Examiner
2 days ago
- Health
- Irish Examiner
Have saunas replaced the pub for small talk and connection? Here's what I've learned
I SAT in a sauna on a random Tuesday, hoping that a quiet place might work some magic on my stress levels. It was an oasis away from the hustle and bustle of the city — until it wasn't. I had assumed there was a sauna etiquette, and that the most important rule was to keep your mouth shut. After all, if you're in a sauna, it's not the time to strike up a conversation with a stranger. I was proven wrong by a man who I reckon was aged in his early 60s, sitting across from me in his swim shorts. He told me he had recently started coming there after his mother passed away. In the troubled water caused by grief, the sauna helped him to get back on track and find a routine. That day, I listened attentively as someone shared what might have been the toughest period they had to go through. I wondered if it was a one-off, or perhaps if saunas are the new locals, where you bump in to strangers who may share a story or two. For saving purposes and to get back in to a bit of a routine myself, I got a gym membership, and, bingo, there was a pool and a sauna. Every week, I sit on a bench and, the more I attend, the more relaxed my body becomes. At first, I didn't like how cramped it felt when several people were there, and I used to leave if more than two others were on the bench. After a while, I noticed that at least one person would always start a conversation, as if sitting in silence were more socially awkward than chatting to people next to you in their bikinis. I've had people simply ask me how my day was going, someone tell me about the toll their job takes on their mental health, and was even offered a job after giving someone advice on how to utilise their company's social media. Do people truly crave connection in a world where we mindlessly scroll on our phones and record snippets of our daily lives or do we simply love a chat? Back in the 1960s, Theodore Newcomb's study found that college students who lived in the same dorm room were more likely to be friends with each other than with other people in the same building. So, Newcomb's proximity principle states that we feel more of an affinity for people to whom we are physically close or with whom we share our space. In recent years, sauna culture has gained newfound popularity. Slowly, it seems, people are replacing Sunday pints with a cold plunge and 10 minutes on a hot bench. While there has been a surge in wellbeing businesses opening up across the country, the idea is not new and dates back to the 17th century, when Irish people used to get naked and sit in old sweat lodges. Up until the 1900s, they stripped down and sat in grass-covered teach allais, aka 'sweat houses', a type of traditional sauna in rural areas. And, fun fact, a project led by Leitrim City and County Council, titled the Sweat House Project, recorded more than 100 sweat houses in Leitrim, dating from the 1600s to the 1900s. A pub atmosphere Ian Whelan of Fad Saoil Saunas After the pandemic, people craved connection. Douglas man Ian Whelan teamed up with Steve Crosbie to work on Fad Saoil Saunas, a wellness service that promotes the physical and mental benefits of saunas. Ian, whose mother died a couple of years ago, said that he has shared unusual conversations on a hot bench. 'Some of the best conversations I've had within the sauna, very organic and natural conversations, just flow and the intent is just there,' Ian said. 'You're sharing the bench with someone, and someone says something, and it's very much like a domino effect. 'We find it in our locations, there's people from all walks of life, some people that wouldn't usually mingle together,' he told the Irish Examiner. He even compared saunas to Irish pubs. 'Some days, you could be roaring, some days you could be crying. There's so much there for people to unpack, and I think everyone has their own troubles in the world, and it's very much just a space where you can be comfortable to be yourself. 'The barriers are broken down, you're in your swimwear. There's nowhere to really hide. Even in Finland, for instance, they say that when you pour over the box which creates the steam, that it's like the spirit of the sauna. 'If you let yourself get there, it can be quite a spiritual experience,' he said. Over the past while, I've become a regular sauna user, and I'd go as far as to say it's now one of my hobbies. As long as no other knee is touching mine, I'm OK with the occasional person breaking sauna etiquette. Because if there's anything I love more than silence, it's the unusual conversation shared with a total stranger, even if I'm in my swimwear.
Irish Examiner
3 days ago
- Health
- Irish Examiner
Steamy days: Is sauna etiquette worth breaking?
I SAT in a sauna on a random Tuesday, hoping that a quiet place might work some magic on my stress levels. It was an oasis away from the hustle and bustle of the city — until it wasn't. I had assumed there was a sauna etiquette, and that the most important rule was to keep your mouth shut. After all, if you're in a sauna, it's not the time to strike up a conversation with a stranger. I was proven wrong by a man who I reckon was aged in his early 60s, sitting across from me in his swim shorts. He told me he had recently started coming there after his mother passed away. In the troubled water caused by grief, the sauna helped him to get back on track and find a routine. That day, I listened attentively as someone shared what might have been the toughest period they had to go through. I wondered if it was a one-off, or perhaps if saunas are the new locals, where you bump in to strangers who may share a story or two. For saving purposes and to get back in to a bit of a routine myself, I got a gym membership, and, bingo, there was a pool and a sauna. Every week, I sit on a bench and, the more I attend, the more relaxed my body becomes. At first, I didn't like how cramped it felt when several people were there, and I used to leave if more than two others were on the bench. After a while, I noticed that at least one person would always start a conversation, as if sitting in silence were more socially awkward than chatting to people next to you in their bikinis. I've had people simply ask me how my day was going, someone tell me about the toll their job takes on their mental health, and was even offered a job after giving someone advice on how to utilise their company's social media. Do people truly crave connection in a world where we mindlessly scroll on our phones and record snippets of our daily lives or do we simply love a chat? Back in the 1960s, Theodore Newcomb's study found that college students who lived in the same dorm room were more likely to be friends with each other than with other people in the same building. So, Newcomb's proximity principle states that we feel more of an affinity for people to whom we are physically close or with whom we share our space. In recent years, sauna culture has gained newfound popularity. Slowly, it seems, people are replacing Sunday pints with a cold plunge and 10 minutes on a hot bench. While there has been a surge in wellbeing businesses opening up across the country, the idea is not new and dates back to the 17th century, when Irish people used to get naked and sit in old sweat lodges. Up until the 1900s, they stripped down and sat in grass-covered teach allais, aka 'sweat houses', a type of traditional sauna in rural areas. And, fun fact, a project led by Leitrim City and County Council, titled the Sweat House Project, recorded more than 100 sweat houses in Leitrim, dating from the 1600s to the 1900s. Ian Whelan of Fad Saoil Saunas A pub atmosphere After the pandemic, people craved connection. Douglas man Ian Whelan teamed up with Steve Crosbie to work on Fad Saoil Saunas, a wellness service that promotes the physical and mental benefits of saunas. Ian, whose mother died a couple of years ago, said that he has shared unusual conversations on a hot bench. 'Some of the best conversations I've had within the sauna, very organic and natural conversations, just flow and the intent is just there,' Ian said. 'You're sharing the bench with someone, and someone says something, and it's very much like a domino effect. 'We find it in our locations, there's people from all walks of life, some people that wouldn't usually mingle together,' he told the Irish Examiner. He even compared saunas to Irish pubs. 'Some days, you could be roaring, some days you could be crying. There's so much there for people to unpack, and I think everyone has their own troubles in the world, and it's very much just a space where you can be comfortable to be yourself. 'The barriers are broken down, you're in your swimwear. There's nowhere to really hide. Even in Finland, for instance, they say that when you pour over the box which creates the steam, that it's like the spirit of the sauna. 'If you let yourself get there, it can be quite a spiritual experience,' he said. Over the past while, I've become a regular sauna user, and I'd go as far as to say it's now one of my hobbies. As long as no other knee is touching mine, I'm OK with the occasional person breaking sauna etiquette. Because if there's anything I love more than silence, it's the unusual conversation shared with a total stranger, even if I'm in my swimwear.
