Turkish (Bath) Delights: Face to Butt with about 50 Women

Category Health, Travel | Permalink | 20. March 2007

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As a veteran world traveler and at the age when my attitude and appreciation of others had softened, I envisioned myself “sporting” enough to engage in most local customs.

Turkish (Bath) Delights

By Debby Merickel
Travel editor of 50plus Online Magazine

As a veteran world traveler and at the age when my attitude and appreciation of others had softened, I envisioned myself “sporting” enough to engage in most local customs.

Me, naked? Never!

When it came to bathing however, I was a very private person. For example, back in high school Physical Education class I pretended to have my period everyday for 2 years so that I wouldn’t have to strip and shower with my peers.

Biting the bullet

It was time to conquer this aversion. No longer would I be the only one in the steam bath and hot tub wearing a bathing suit.

Baby, it’s cold outside

In late December as the winds whirled around the minarets of the Blue Mosque in Istanbul and the cold air hosted snow flakes, I relished the prospect of warmth and comfort from most any quarter. Upon seeing my reddened cheeks the hotel desk clerk humbly suggested that I consider the Turkish hamam experience.

A real Turkish bath

I chose to visit one that began operating in 1584, featuring 16th century Ottoman architecture. It was a two chambered bath with separate enclaves for women and men.

Face to butt

After paying for the bath and massage I was presented with a cotton “pestemal” (towel) and a locker. I discreetly eyed the others to discover the ritual and degree of disrobing. The much larger, much older and fully-clothed woman in charge spirited my bare body toward another door. I entered it and was face to butt with about 50 women mostly laying on this colossal round heated marble platform, some on their backs, some on their fronts and some just sitting around.

Really naked

Everyone was completely naked other than the workers who donned underpants. There were washing areas around the platform although most of the women were being massaged and rubbed down right there on the group table by singing masseuses with skinny breasts hanging and swinging in their potent strokes. Big soap bubbles overflowed their cloths like a washing machine overdosed on detergent.,

Securely wrapped, temporarily

I approached the stone stage and timidly sat at the edge with my body wrapped securely in my towel until a person in panties moved me to another part of the stage. I geared up for my Old World experience but was quickly awakened when she asked if I wanted a bikini wax.

I politely declined, thinking that while this friendly and professional woman probably did not harbor any anti-American feelings, there was no need to give her an opportunity to prove otherwise.

Soothed into dreamland

Sound bounced off the high ceiling as the washer-women employees sang. With the floating bubbles, dancing motions and happy melodies it was easy to drift into a momentary dreamland.

Rubbed and scrubbed

For twenty minutes I was scrubbed and turned like a pancake on a griddle. With a spotless and sparkling body, I was paraded to a little marble sink situated around the perimeter where my hair was washed. Once again I was displayed on the slab as part of the people pizza to dry in the ambiance of relaxation.

Feeling incredibly alive

Energized, I was ready to conquer yet another fear: crowds. Crowds and crowds of people, tourists and locals, shopping!

Editors note: Debby Merickel, our new Travel editor, has visited over 50 countries. She has traveled mostly alone and incredible as it may seem, most all of her trips were made after the age of 50.

Debby’s adventures are being chronicled in her forthcoming book, The Misadventures of an Aging Globetrotter.

Via:

http://www.letlifein.com/letlife/TravelbrLeisure/WorldTravel/tabid/74/Default.aspx

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