Well...Adam and I finally managed to make it to a Turkish bath (hamam), and what a bath it was...
I guess at a basic level it was similar to a child being bathed by his mother: one small helpless individual in a new place being cleaned, via splashing water, by another large odd looking individual speaking in a strange tongue, only in this case 'mom' was a big, sweaty, incredibly hairy turkish man, the place: a hot marble room, and the tongue turkish.
Adam and I arrived at the Haman not really knowning what lay in store. With some hand gesturing we gathered that we needed to go change into towels, after which we were ushered into a room with a large marble 'table' in the middle, at a balmy 115+ fahrenheit. Inside this room was a small sauna (at 130 fahrenheit) which we decided to check out for a few mins, but I wasn't able to last long at that temperature. After waiting on the host marble slab for 15-20 mins our big turkish bathers came and took us into another, slightly cooler room, where the fun began.
They started by dousing us with copious amounts of warm water and rubbing us down with some kind of 'exfoliating glove', not unlike sandpaper. I was absolutely amazed at the amount of dead skin that literally came of in big rolls from my neck, back, arms, legs, etc. Every now and then they would throw in a hard slap on the back for good measure. After a bit more rinsing they lathered up the palmolive soap bar for the washing: he jerked my arms, lifted my legs, flipped me on to my stomach, and generously dug his nails deep into my scalp to make sure no dirt possibly remained.
Then it was time for the 'massage', which turned out not to be so much a massage in the traditional sense as it was a beating. After a bit more arm jerking to make sure I was good and loose, he put me onto my back, crossed my arms over my chest and applied the full force of his 300+ pound heft...my back has never cracked so loudly or completely. But he was just getting started. He flipped me on to my stomach and started pounding away at my back to the point that my adam's apple was actually being smashed into the marble slab. Next he moved to the legs and solicited several winces as he burried his thumbs deeb in my ham strings and calves, all the while my knee caps close to shattering against the marble from the force. A few more bowls of water over the head and down the back and we were done, left to haul our bruised, albeit clean, bodies into a cold shower.
I have to say that it was one of the best experiences I had in Turkey, and would highly recommend it to anyone that has the opportunity. I'm hoping I can squeeze one in when I get back to Istanbul before heading to Africa. Unfortunately for all of us I wasn't able to take any pictures...
I guess at a basic level it was similar to a child being bathed by his mother: one small helpless individual in a new place being cleaned, via splashing water, by another large odd looking individual speaking in a strange tongue, only in this case 'mom' was a big, sweaty, incredibly hairy turkish man, the place: a hot marble room, and the tongue turkish.
Adam and I arrived at the Haman not really knowning what lay in store. With some hand gesturing we gathered that we needed to go change into towels, after which we were ushered into a room with a large marble 'table' in the middle, at a balmy 115+ fahrenheit. Inside this room was a small sauna (at 130 fahrenheit) which we decided to check out for a few mins, but I wasn't able to last long at that temperature. After waiting on the host marble slab for 15-20 mins our big turkish bathers came and took us into another, slightly cooler room, where the fun began.
They started by dousing us with copious amounts of warm water and rubbing us down with some kind of 'exfoliating glove', not unlike sandpaper. I was absolutely amazed at the amount of dead skin that literally came of in big rolls from my neck, back, arms, legs, etc. Every now and then they would throw in a hard slap on the back for good measure. After a bit more rinsing they lathered up the palmolive soap bar for the washing: he jerked my arms, lifted my legs, flipped me on to my stomach, and generously dug his nails deep into my scalp to make sure no dirt possibly remained.
Then it was time for the 'massage', which turned out not to be so much a massage in the traditional sense as it was a beating. After a bit more arm jerking to make sure I was good and loose, he put me onto my back, crossed my arms over my chest and applied the full force of his 300+ pound heft...my back has never cracked so loudly or completely. But he was just getting started. He flipped me on to my stomach and started pounding away at my back to the point that my adam's apple was actually being smashed into the marble slab. Next he moved to the legs and solicited several winces as he burried his thumbs deeb in my ham strings and calves, all the while my knee caps close to shattering against the marble from the force. A few more bowls of water over the head and down the back and we were done, left to haul our bruised, albeit clean, bodies into a cold shower.
I have to say that it was one of the best experiences I had in Turkey, and would highly recommend it to anyone that has the opportunity. I'm hoping I can squeeze one in when I get back to Istanbul before heading to Africa. Unfortunately for all of us I wasn't able to take any pictures...
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