At Russian-style bath house in Everett, clients can wash cares away

EVERETT — Just call it the new Slavic district.

Sergey Budnik, a Ukrainian pastor, has welcomed Russian and English speakers to his Full Gospel Mission bilingual church, known as FGM, since 2002. He wants to address the needs of the soul.

Now, in the church’s basement, Vladimir Dorosh, a member of Budnik’s church, hopes to address the needs of the body.

It took Dorosh, a contractor, a year to renovate the basement into Downtown Banya, a traditional Russian-style bath house on Colby Avenue near Hewitt Avenue.

He officially opened its doors late last month and his customers — mostly immigrants and refugees from the former Soviet Union — didn’t need any encouragement.

It’s the only truly traditional banya in the area, Dorosh said, saying others in the Puget Sound are little more than “a stove in a sauna.”

At Dorosh’s banya, water is sprinkled over hot bricks until the tiled room is hotter than Death Valley, and more humid than a tropical island just before a rainstorm.

In the stifling heat, people of Slavic descent dip bouquets of oak leaves or herbs into hot water and brush them over one another’s bodies.

Then, they leave the sauna and jump into a cold pool.

Back and forth they go, pausing between takes for a round of billiards. Most people stay for four hours or more, Dorosh said.

It’s fun, he said, but it’s also healthy.

“You feel light and refreshed afterward,” said Angelina Dorosh, the dewy-skinned 16-year-old daughter of the banya’s owner.

Business is slow now, but Dor­osh expects it to pick up as people become aware of the banya and grow curious enough to pay for a $30 day pass. The busiest time will likely begin later this year, when the weather turns cool, he said.

The banya is legally separate from FGM church. The church leases the space to Dorosh and his two partners, who both are brothers of Budnik, the pastor. So far, most of the banya’s customers are members of the church.

The church wasn’t using the basement space, Budnik said. The agreement makes financial sense, but the two businesses are also complementary.

A banya attracts curious people, he said. People who stop to experience the banya might also stay to experience the church.

Many of Western Washington’s immigrants from the former Soviet Union are evangelical Christians who escaped religious persecution in their home regions, either from the Orthodox church or the Communist government.

More than 42,000 refugees from the former Soviet Union were resettled in Washington state between 1983 and 2005, according to federal data. That’s about half of all the refugees resettled in the state during that period.

Budnik’s church and its relationship with the banya is unique among Slavic congregations, said Eugene Lemcio, a Bible professor at Seattle Pacific Uni­versity and member of Seattle’s Ukrainian-American club.

Russian-style saunas and bath houses are bastions of traditional Slavic culture. Evangelical Christians worldwide tend to shy away from popular culture, including some Amer­ican evangelicals who until recent decades avoided social dancing and movie theaters.

“The traditional preservers of Ukrainian and Russian culture have been the Orthodox and Catholic churches,” Lem­cio said. “When Protestants distanced themselves from the Orthodox and Catholic churches, then they distanced themselves from certain aspects of the culture as well.”

Lemcio said he visited the banya and spoke with Budnik about the partnership between the church and the bath house last month. Budnik and Dorosh are working to preserve the best of Slavic culture while still maintaining their conservative values, he said.

Some banyas allow visitors to go nude, but people at Downtown Banya must wear swimsuits. The facility is co-ed.

Dorosh plans to add massage to the banya’s menu of services in the coming months. There could also soon be a small cafe, serving both Slavic and American specialties.

For now, refreshments are limited to bottled water, which is also given away free on the sidewalk outside the church door on hot summer days.

“We just want to say welcome,” Budnik said. “That’s why we’re downtown.”