Selchuk, Turkey
"Apple tea, lie down," said my attendant strictly, pointing to an air pump thermos next to a pair of lounge chairs.
Tom was close behind. "Apple tea, lie down," the attendant repeated, eager to see us settled. We obliged, filling our cups with the hot, sweet beverage and settling down in front of a big-screen tv airing what could only be called "Turkey's Funniest Home Videos". I was a little relieved to have my first hamam experience over with.
I'm told you cannot visit Turkey without visiting a hamam, or traditional Turkish bathing facility. The history of this ritualistic practice dates back to the era of the Roman empire, a time of great cross-cultural merging of eastern and western ideas. The Turks combined the best of the Roman practice with their own Byzantine bathing traditions to form the luxurious Turkish bathing ritual. Hamams were, and still are, a popular spot for men and women to socialize, exchange gossip and indulge in a little luxury.
These paintings depict the common aspects of Turkish bathing. Visitors are divided by gender into their own bathing room where a good deal of splashing, soaking, massaging and other pampering takes place.
Below: Male Turkish Bath by Unknown (via VAM.ac.uk)
Nowadays, this is how popular culture depicts the hamam experience:
Kate Moss for W magazine, this shoot took place in a famous hamam in Istanbul (via dailymail.co.uk)
Besides the acrobatics and overt sexuality seemingly required these days, I'd heard horror stories from friends about the exfoliation process ("It feels like your skin is getting ripped off!") and rough massages ("I thought she was punching my kidney!"). Tom was just excited to be showering before our second overnight bus ride in less than 5 days.
Tom and I checked in at a reception area and were given locker keys and paid for a "Standard Service". This included sauna, face mask, a traditional bath by attendant (exfoliation and massage included) and a plunge in the cool jacuzzi. They led us to separate changing rooms to disrobe into our pestemals, or lightweight, plaid towels worn for the duration of the bathing process. I thought that would be the last I saw of Tom for a while, assuming we would be ushered to our respective gendered chambers. This would be the first of my several misunderstandings.
The staff at the hamam spoke very little English, so when I asked three times if "no clothes" underneath my pestemal was appropriate, the only response they could muster was "No problem!" while eagerly shuffling me towards the Face Mask Application Area. As a male attendant lightly applied a clay mask to my face Tom reappeared and was ordered to sit down next to me. Before I could ask if this hamam was co-ed, we were then told to bake in the sauna for an indeterminate amount of time.
After the sauna, the attendants rinsed us brought us out to the main bathing area. It looked something like this:
A typical hamam, (via fromina.com)
The sinks along the side are meant for self-bathing using a metal bowl called a tas. Our attendants kindly took it upon themselves to douse us with warm water from the sinks and begin the exfoliation process. My attendant, a female, used an rough mitt called a kese to expel the grime that had accumulated in my pores since our first days in Costa Rica. I was pleasantly surprised that it did not hurt at all, but rather felt like a coarse loofah.
After our scrub down, we were led to the göbek taşı, the large, heated marble slab in the middle of the room, to rest. After all that scrubbing you need to rest, you see. My attendant replaced my wet pestemal with two dry cloths placed in such a way as to just barely cover my unmentionables. Had I been on a magazine cover at a bus stand, there would have been a black strip covering all but my face. Just as I was getting comfortable, I began to notice there were other patrons - male patrons - in the hamam. If their eyes had lasers, they would have sliced me in half, if you know what I mean. As the only female patron, it was not comfortable.
My attendant returned with a pillow case that appeared to be full of suds. She blew into it and pulled the air out as if deflating a balloon. This had the effect of sending billowy, cloud-like suds cascading all over my body. It felt glorious. She then proceeded to give me a full body massage that almost made me forget that her well-endowed bosom kept quacking me in the face or that every sexually-repressed Turk in the hamam stared with abandon the entire time (including Tom's attendant). Apparently, you are supposed to wear a bathing suit when you attend a co-ed hamam. Who knew?
What I'd like to think I looked like (via turkishholiday.net)
I was relieved when Tom and I were rejoined in the cool plunge pool/jacuzzi. The water was a blissful temperature that finally reduced my body heat back to normal after battling the Middle-Eastern heat for three days. Tom was looking very limber after telling me his masseuse had cracked every crackable area of his vertebrae as well as various joints.
After our plunge it was, "Apple tea, lie down." We dutifully obliged.
Oh, wow. Did you feel safe being there Jules? Bud, how'd you like the massages?
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