Guest Author: Suzanne Swift
Suzanne Swift is a local Madison blogger that shared a recent reflection on Saunaday on her Substack. The piece is reproduced here in full with permission from the author. Please subscribe to Suzanne’s Substack to explore more of her work. Additionally, we loved Suzanne’s descriptive style so much, that we asked another saunabather and illustrator, Meghan, to help us visualize the story. We hope you enjoy, and also give illustrator Meghan Silbernagel a follow.
Scratching the Itch: A local adventure was just what I needed.
Article by Suzanne Swift with illustrations by Meghan Silbernagel
Last week, I got itchy.
It had been over a month since I’d boarded a plane, packed a bag, or griped about travel snafus. In early August, when I returned from my final trip of the summer, I felt relieved. But four weeks later, I found myself hankering for some travel action. Seeing friends’ photos from Sardinia and Colombia only fueled the fire. I gazed wistfully at my lonely suitcase tucked away in a basement corner.
I mentioned my lament to Mike, who cocked his head, smiled, and asked, “Are you an adrenaline junkie?”
This gave me pause—and a harrumph in reply. I’m not drawn to the classic adrenaline rushes. I don’t want to bungee jump, skydive, or scuba through murky tunnels. But I am hooked on changing scenery and new experiences.
Luckily, within 24 hours of Mike’s comment, I got a text alert. Bloop, bloop.
It was from my friend Diana. She was turning 60, and her message invited me to spend the morning of her birthday at Saunaday, a new Madison hotspot described as “a modern bathhouse designed for vitality, community, and integrity.”
I quickly texted back: “Of course. Sounds great!” Hitting two birds with one stone, I’d get to celebrate Diana and try something new.
Still, the idea made me a little nervous.
A couple of years ago, I visited an onsen in Japan. I even wrote about it in a blog post called Nobody Knows My Ass Around Here.What I learned there is that every bathhouse has its own culture and protocols to untangle. It can be unnerving to figure things out when you’re wet, half-dressed, and surrounded by strangers.
But I was game.
On the morning of Diana’s birthday, I biked over to her house, where she and our friend Andrea were waiting to kick off the adventure. We rode across town, weaving through the Ironman racecourse in full swing, then locked up our bikes and stepped inside.
Happily, we were greeted by smiling faces, lovely scents, and a sun-filled lobby. My worries began to fade. After a quick discussion of the merits of mud, face masks, and THC seltzers, we headed in for a tour.
It was time to shed our clothes, slip into swimsuits (not a naked place), and dive in.
As always, I felt nervous and self-conscious about my body, convinced everyone else would be smoother, skinnier, younger and flawless, with no rolls. But inside, I found the full spectrum of humanity: young, old, big, small, wrinkled, tattooed, and even a couple of very hairy dudes. I fit right in and felt very comfortable.
For the next two hours, Diana, Andrea, and I frolicked…wandering between the steam room, two saunas, a cold plunge, and showers where we scrubbed ourselves down with snow-like salt. (I hate wet towels, so I was thrilled there were plenty of dry ones on hand.) We chatted along the way, except in the “Aspen” sauna, the one designated silent space.
As we unwound, we worked on solving the world’s problems: politics, parents, children, partners, homes, aging, travel, and even what to do with too many tomatoes…the answer - a complicated three part Italian sauce.
The whole thing was topped off with slimy but refreshing Korean face masks.
And then it was time to go. We dried off, got dressed, and hopped back on our bikes for the short ride home.
But here’s the best part: I haven’t been itchy since. I not only exfoliated my outside, but also scratched that inner itch for adventure…without leaving town. I took a risk, tried something new, and had meaningful, interesting conversations.
And, best of all, I never boarded a plane, and that night, I slept in my own bed.
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