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Turkish Bath

A phone call to Ulinov set up a meeting at a Turkish style bathhouse. I arrived and was told that Gregor Pavalovich was waiting for me in the steam room. I was given a towel and a place to put my clothes. As I entered the sauna the moist heat waved over me. I walked to the rear of the small room and found Ulinov sitting by a container of hot rocks, with a birch branch in his hand. Other figures occupied some benches sitting farther off.

“Ah, Mr. Talman. So glad you could join us. Please come and sit.” His body was bloated with fat and sweat poured off him. He was wrapped in a towel like mine and reached down to a bucket next to him that contained water and a dipper. I sat a few feet away.

“It is always a great debate among those who come here as to what the proper level of steam should be for a good bath. Dimitri over there prefers a dry heat. But I feel that a good steam needs moisture to penetrate the lungs. What are your feelings on this?”

“Suit yourself,” I replied.

He poured some water on the rocks.

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