Day 282 A Turkish Bath

A visit to Istanbul would not be complete without going to a hammam, a traditional Turkish bath. I went to a 300-year-old hammam that is featured in the book One Thousand Places to See Before You Die. All sorts of famous people from Tony Curtis to Omar Sharif have been to this one. I changed into a waist cloth and awkward wooden sandals and was led to a large magnificent marble room with a huge heated marble platform in the middle. The columns, arches, and dome with its star shaped holes for light exuded history. I was alone, laying on the slab, sweating and listening to the quiet hiss of steam and the dripping of water. It was serene and otherworldly. For ten minutes... then came the burly, unshaved, half naked Turkish guy that tried with all his weight to smash me into the marble slab. He twisted and popped things that I had no idea could pop. He was merciless. The unforgiving stone allowed for a deep tissue massage that reached the tissue on my opposite side. I have never been so happy to have a massage end. He took me over to one of the marble basins on the side and proceeded to aggressively scrub my skin off. Literally, he was removing copious amounts of skin that balled up and stuck to my body hair. Then came the body shampoo. He was not shy and only barely avoided my more personal parts. He washed off the thick coat of foam by dipping a bowl in the basin and repeatedly dumping it over my head. He left me to relax on the slab again and peace returned. Sure I felt like roadkill, but a very relaxed roadkill. After a recovery period, I visited the "hot" room. I made the mistake of stepping out of my sandals briefly and almost scorched my feet on the floor. It took me a few minutes to be able to sit on the blisteringly hot bench. The hot room was aptly named. I stayed for a few minutes and returned to the serenity of the slab. When I finally left, it was reluctantly on several counts; it was a wonderful relaxing place to be and my body did not want to exert the energy required to walk.