Brace yourself, when the Turks go to their local hamam, there is no time for English-style prudence or coyness. Forget the language barrier and your lack of understanding at how this process works and allow yourself to be guided through this enchanting experience.
My first visit to a genuine Turkish hamam was in a city called Sivas. Unlike those found in the more tourist-ridden areas of Turkey, this hamam was not accustomed to foreigners wandering into its historical setting. Once inside, throw away your inhibitions. The first rule when setting foot in these ancient baths: get relatively naked and get relatively comfortable with it. I was greeted by bare breasts in every direction, totally transparent pants, women being scrubbed down by others and I immediately felt ridiculous wearing my bikini, so off came the top half (perhaps I’ll wait till next time to bare all).
Unsurprisingly, my Turkish was non-existent so explaining the process to me proved difficult. As far as I was concerned, I was there to enjoy a massage, an exfoliation and some relaxation. As I was clearly failing to understand anything in Turkish, one woman who was there with her toddler son offered to explain in German what I was supposed to be doing. Although I don’t speak German, I eventually realised that they wanted me to go into the sauna for a while so I’d sweat which would allow the women to successfully exfoliate my skin. Another important tip: be patient and pretend to understand what they’re saying (lots of nodding helps).
After sitting in the sauna for about 15 minutes, I grew impatient, I wasn’t sweating enough. Jumping jacks and running on the spot soon sorted that out. Always remember that exercise in a sauna definitely induces sweat. Finally, I emerged and clearly glistened enough because a woman working at the hamam got me to lie down on the stone slab in the centre of the baths. At last, I was going to earn my relaxing treatment. Chomping on some gum and giving me curt orders as to when to lift limbs, the woman vigorously scrubbed me down with a rough flannel. Not quite the tentative care I was expecting.
The echoes of the woman’s chatter and the little boy’s excited squeals added to the experience, although detracted from the relaxation somewhat. Next came the full body massage. The woman rubbed a bar of soap between her hands and got started. I would describe this massage as charming agony. No muscle escaped the pressure of her firm hand and it certainly released some tension in my body, although it didn’t feel so therapeutic at the time.
Some Turks go to the hamam as a weekly ritual or for special occasions. Two girls, clearly curious as to why a pale, blonde foreign girl was in the baths this week, approached me and asked where I was from. They had come to the hamam with most of the women in their family to bathe before a cousin’s upcoming nuptials. They encouraged me to plunge with them into the little swimming pool, neglecting to tell me that it was freezing cold. Admiring how I did a little breaststroke around the pool, they asked me how I’d learned to swim and if I could teach them. And so an impromptu swimming lesson began, where the girls at least pretended to appreciate my demonstration of how to do ‘froggy legs’.
Then came the end to my baptism of fire into the Turkish hamam experience. I entered the baths expecting a well-priced massage and a little scrub down but I left as a semi-nudist swimming teacher. My best tip on how to experience a Turkish hamam? Walk in as an ignorant tourist and you’ll certainly be pleasantly surprised.
