Turkish Bath (Part II)

A Turkish bath defined: Hamam is the Turkish variant of a steam bath, sauna or Russian Bath, distinguished by a focus on water, as distinct from ambient steam. A person taking a Turkish bath first relaxes in a room (known as the warm room) that is heated by a continuous flow of hot, dry air allowing the bather to perspire freely. Bathers may then move to an even hotter room (known as the hot room) before splashing themselves with cold water. After performing a full body wash and receiving a massage, bathers finally retire to the cooling-room for a period of relaxation.

Seven a.m. on Sunday. Time for my Turkish Bath experience. I put on my bathing suit which is a tankini style and covered that with a robe they provided for you in the room. I then opted for the blue men's flip flops they had provided since goodness knows my size twelve and a half weren't going to fit in those cute little pink ones.

I headed down the hallway and up a ramp. The man at the front desk was expecting me. No one else in their right mind would go to the "spa" at 7am. But here I was. I knew I'd be awake anyways. Sleeping in just doesn't happen for me.

(Click here to read Part I)

So ... it all began in a room that looked something like this:

A Turkish man speaking Turkish way faster than I could possibly hope to really understand, ushered me into a room. I had no idea what I was supposed to do there. I thought he said something about taking my robe off. Thought I heard something about getting in the water. No idea. So I took off my robe and entered this pool in my bathing suit. Or tried to at least. The water was incredibly hot. Hotter than anything  I've ever felt. Hotter than any hot tub I'd ever been in.

After about five minutes of trying to get in the water but not making it past my stomach, I opted to sit on the side with my feet dangling in the water. I felt like I was in the waiting room to see my dentist. I wasn't relaxed at all. Was someone going to come in this room and start scrubbing me? Would the large Turkish dancing ladies be meeting me here like Stebbins and Linda had warned me about? What exactly was a Turkish bath? Was I going to be by myself or with other women?

The man who had ushered me in returned. He asked me in Turkish if I preferred a woman or a man for the first part. This I knew how to answer. Woman! (Kiz!) I want a woman! And for the second part? The massage part? Woman! (Kiz!) Please woman! (Lutfen kiz!)
He nodded and lead me to another room. It looked something like this picture below:

As soon as I entered the room, I hit my head on the door. The Turks aren't used to people as tall as me. Hitting my head isn't unusual. I yelped a little but tried to cover up my pain as a heavy set Turkish woman entered. She was wearing a robe and carrying a bucket of, what appeared to be supplies.

She started chatting away in Turkish. I replied in Turkish with my usual phrases. "I'm sorry. I don't speak Turkish very well. Could you please speak slower? I can't understand you."

She didn't acknowledge my requests at all. She just smiled and kept chattering away. Loudly. Animated. Hands flying. She took off her robe. She was wearing a shirt with a bra underneath and underwear. She took off her shirt. I remember thinking Oh please leave your bra and underwear on.

She did. (A small miracle.)

Not that it helped that much. There was still a lot of stuff hanging out of a lot of places. I played her game of charades and took off my own robe as she illustrated for me to do.

She had me sit down on the big slab jutting out into the center of the room. It was heated. I remember having to prop myself up with my palms so as to not burn my rear end. Then she started talking very fast in Turkish ... again.

I told her I didn't understand. I asked her to go slower. She tried talking louder. Tried to talking faster. Tried singing her response. No go. I had no idea what she wanted me to do.

Back to charades. She started pulling on my bathing suit top and chattering away. It quickly became obvious she wanted me to take it off.

"Hayir," I said. (That means no in Turkish.) But she was insistent. She kept pulling at it and pulling at it and the room started spinning and I realized that this was my moment. Either I fully embraced what was going on or I didn't. Either I got comfortable with the experience or I didn't. I could tell that she was not going to take no for an answer. At least not with an attitude of frustration to accompany it.

When in Turkey ...

I decided to go for it. I took off my bathing suit top and handed it to her. I couldn't believe I did it! I felt liberated! Truly! She then began scrubbing me. I remembered a lady saying during dinner the night before, "Your OBGYN has nothing on a Turkish bath." Hmmmm ... I see what she meant. She was scrubbing and singing and scrubbing and yelling over the spraying water. Spraying water everywhere. Bubbles. Suds. Mostly hot. Sometimes lukewarm.

I have to admit that I really didn't feel uncomfortable after the first little bit. She obviously did this a lot. She was singing and having a grand time. She didn't seem to care that I was topless -- so why should I? I had my head on a vinyl pillow. I was warm and comfortable and apparently, getting cleaner by the minute.

Throughout the process, she kept showing me the loofa glove she was scrubbing me with. Showing me how dirty I was. Or at least it seemed that way. She then started talking to me, still in Turkish of course, telling me that she needed money. Would I give her a tip? She kept talking about it. I finally said to her, in Turkish. "Sure. Maybe five or ten lira." She replied, "Maybe twenty or thirty lira?"

But I blocked out the request for funds and must say I actually enjoyed the process. It felt invigorating. The slab was hot and not quite long enough for me. But I was by myself. There weren't other people coming in and out naked and washing themselves as they had done to Stebbs the night before. The singing, while a bit loud, actually helped me not feel as uncomfortable. She was comfortable enough to sing and talk to me even though I had no idea what she was saying. What was there to be stressed about?

About twenty minutes later she told me I was done. I put my robe back on. She brought me to another room. Here I had my massage. It was an hour long and wonderful. It was much like an American massage except they didn't hold up the sheet so you could lay down discreetly. They didn't care anything about discreet. The woman just started massaging. They massage your chest too. A bit strange. But Stebbs and Linda had warned me. I was prepared. So, again, in the spirit of the Turkish massage, I decided to go with it.

Overall, I must admit, I felt very relaxed and very clean afterwards. JB said my skin was noticeably smoother when I got home.

The weekend was a huge success. Other than the fact that I accidentally left my Kindle, errr ... JB's Kindle on the train on the way home, and by the time I went back for it just a few minutes later it had been swiped, I had a wonderfully relaxing time. No, it wasn't perfect. Yes, it was Turkey. I keep taking adventures like this and picturing what it would be like in America. But the fact is, this is not America. I paid about $120 for the entire experience: bus, train, hotel, spa, and food. In America that would have cost me a whole lot more. And it might have been a little nicer. But I'm not in America. And I thoroughly enjoyed the experience.