My latest obsession
Twelve years ago, just about to the day, I spent 7 days touring, and falling in love with, Turkey. My visit to this wonderful country affected every one of my senses. There I met the friendliest people, sampled the tastiest food, heard the most amazing sounds (if you've ever heard a call to prayer for a Muslim, you'd know what I mean), saw the most incredible views, smelled the most fragrant aromas, and experienced a hamam.
While all of the trip was memorable, it was the small fraction of time --only 2 hours or so-- spent bathing in a traditional bath house that has remained at the forefront of my mind as the quintessential experience. Everyone simply MUST experience this at some point in his or her life to say they've lived a full life. Here was my own experience:
At the youth hostel we were staying at in Istanbul, the proprietor recommended that we visit a "hamam" at some point during our stay. He suggested one that had been around for a while. My traveling buddy, me, and another guy we were traveling with were game and said "sure, why not". So we hailed a taxi and off we went...
We arrived at a very ordinary building. It did not look remarkable in any way from the outside. We were directed to enter the women's hamam to the left, while our male companion went to the right. We agreed to meet up in 2 hours in front.
After passing through a small foyer, we entered the lobby of the bath house. In the middle there were easy chairs and sofas for lounging all centered around a small pot bellied stove on top of which tea was warming. There were many women of varying ages sort of just wandering around. One woman was getting a leg and armpit wax that looked very painful, but hey, no one ever said being beautiful wasn't easy.
We paid our entrance fee (the cost of which I have no recollection, but I'm certain it wasn't more than $10) and were guided to our individual changing rooms, each of which had a cot, a towel, a flat frisbee/dish looking thing, and wooden shower shoes which I had decided I wouldn't be caught dead in. I would later learn that only wood will keep you from slipping and falling on your ass once you enter the main bathing area which is usually tiled entirely in marble.
What ensued was nothing short of the most profound relaxation experience I've ever had. Starting in the dry heat room (basically a sauna), you stay there for as long as you can take it. After about 20 min or so, you move to the main bathing area that is an architectural phenomenon in its own right. The cathedral dome is designed to enable light to filter through at just the right amount so that it maintains the room's serenity. This room is a bit cooler than the sauna but filled with steam. Around the perimeter, there are small basins with a faucet above it. You can adjust the temperature of the water, but the Turks typically use cool water.
The woman who took our money at the entry, suddenly appeared through the door. A towel was wrapped around her and she was sporting the stylish wooden flip-flops that I decided weren't so bad after all. She beckoned for me to meet her at the polygon shaped marble slab/table that was in the center of the room. A little nervous, I carefully made my way over. She proceeded to scrub the nastiest, blackest, crap off my body with what only looked to be a regular washcloth. I was shocked and horrified to discover that the nasty, black "crap" ended up being years and years of built up dead skin. Grossed out beyond belief, I was sent back to my seat near the basin to rinse off, while my friend got her "once over". When she returned, I went back to my scrubber who proceeded to wash me tip to toe. It felt a little weird and indulgent to have someone doing this to me, but as they say "when in Rome..." After all, all the nationals in that room were bathing each other. I decided that it was ok and decided that the indulgence felt a lot better than the guilt.
Once we had completely rinsed off, my friend and I returned to our "cubby" rooms and wrapped ourselves and just relaxed on the cot for a few minutes. When we emerged into the main sitting and lounging area, the woman who was running the place appeared with a huge platter of food that she place on a coffee table. She and several other generations of women proceeded to eat, drink, smoke, and laugh. It might sound silly, but witnessing that single event changed my opinions about the culture that I had initially concluded was sexist with all the divisions based on gender. I realized that these women were not only comfortable in the gender role their culture dictated, they embraced it. Admittedly, it softened my previously rigid Gloria-Steinemesque ways.
Back on the street in front of the hamam (which we learned was built in the 1500s), we felt renewed, refreshed and cleaner than we had ever been in our lives. Literally squeaky clean. I decided right then and there that I would not be leaving the country without doing this at least one more time.
Ever since this time, I have not been able to shake the yearning for the experience once again. Knowing that a trip to a Turkish hamam is probably well after a trip to Disneyland, LegoLand, and probably even Hawaii, I have been obsessing on bringing the experience to me.
In my Internet searches, I have learned that the lemon scented hand cleanser used all over the country in restaurants, on busses, and other public venues, is really lemon cologne. I have also learned that the scrubber used to get the nasty, black crap off my body in the hamam is called a kese and it is quite different from a loofah. I have also learned that the frisbee bowl thingy, the towel, and even the fashionable wooden shoes from hell are all known quantities in hamam land.
One trip to eBay and $40 later, I am now the proud owner of 2 kese, "the" lemon cologne, henna, jasmine bath soap (traditional is olive oil soap), and some Turkish coffee. SCORE!
So, for now, I will indulge myself with these items that bring to mind so many good memories.
Links that rocked my world and set me up (besides eBay):
http://www.yiyelim.com/
http://www.tulumba.com/
While all of the trip was memorable, it was the small fraction of time --only 2 hours or so-- spent bathing in a traditional bath house that has remained at the forefront of my mind as the quintessential experience. Everyone simply MUST experience this at some point in his or her life to say they've lived a full life. Here was my own experience:
At the youth hostel we were staying at in Istanbul, the proprietor recommended that we visit a "hamam" at some point during our stay. He suggested one that had been around for a while. My traveling buddy, me, and another guy we were traveling with were game and said "sure, why not". So we hailed a taxi and off we went...
We arrived at a very ordinary building. It did not look remarkable in any way from the outside. We were directed to enter the women's hamam to the left, while our male companion went to the right. We agreed to meet up in 2 hours in front.
After passing through a small foyer, we entered the lobby of the bath house. In the middle there were easy chairs and sofas for lounging all centered around a small pot bellied stove on top of which tea was warming. There were many women of varying ages sort of just wandering around. One woman was getting a leg and armpit wax that looked very painful, but hey, no one ever said being beautiful wasn't easy.
We paid our entrance fee (the cost of which I have no recollection, but I'm certain it wasn't more than $10) and were guided to our individual changing rooms, each of which had a cot, a towel, a flat frisbee/dish looking thing, and wooden shower shoes which I had decided I wouldn't be caught dead in. I would later learn that only wood will keep you from slipping and falling on your ass once you enter the main bathing area which is usually tiled entirely in marble.
What ensued was nothing short of the most profound relaxation experience I've ever had. Starting in the dry heat room (basically a sauna), you stay there for as long as you can take it. After about 20 min or so, you move to the main bathing area that is an architectural phenomenon in its own right. The cathedral dome is designed to enable light to filter through at just the right amount so that it maintains the room's serenity. This room is a bit cooler than the sauna but filled with steam. Around the perimeter, there are small basins with a faucet above it. You can adjust the temperature of the water, but the Turks typically use cool water.
The woman who took our money at the entry, suddenly appeared through the door. A towel was wrapped around her and she was sporting the stylish wooden flip-flops that I decided weren't so bad after all. She beckoned for me to meet her at the polygon shaped marble slab/table that was in the center of the room. A little nervous, I carefully made my way over. She proceeded to scrub the nastiest, blackest, crap off my body with what only looked to be a regular washcloth. I was shocked and horrified to discover that the nasty, black "crap" ended up being years and years of built up dead skin. Grossed out beyond belief, I was sent back to my seat near the basin to rinse off, while my friend got her "once over". When she returned, I went back to my scrubber who proceeded to wash me tip to toe. It felt a little weird and indulgent to have someone doing this to me, but as they say "when in Rome..." After all, all the nationals in that room were bathing each other. I decided that it was ok and decided that the indulgence felt a lot better than the guilt.
Once we had completely rinsed off, my friend and I returned to our "cubby" rooms and wrapped ourselves and just relaxed on the cot for a few minutes. When we emerged into the main sitting and lounging area, the woman who was running the place appeared with a huge platter of food that she place on a coffee table. She and several other generations of women proceeded to eat, drink, smoke, and laugh. It might sound silly, but witnessing that single event changed my opinions about the culture that I had initially concluded was sexist with all the divisions based on gender. I realized that these women were not only comfortable in the gender role their culture dictated, they embraced it. Admittedly, it softened my previously rigid Gloria-Steinemesque ways.
Back on the street in front of the hamam (which we learned was built in the 1500s), we felt renewed, refreshed and cleaner than we had ever been in our lives. Literally squeaky clean. I decided right then and there that I would not be leaving the country without doing this at least one more time.
Ever since this time, I have not been able to shake the yearning for the experience once again. Knowing that a trip to a Turkish hamam is probably well after a trip to Disneyland, LegoLand, and probably even Hawaii, I have been obsessing on bringing the experience to me.
In my Internet searches, I have learned that the lemon scented hand cleanser used all over the country in restaurants, on busses, and other public venues, is really lemon cologne. I have also learned that the scrubber used to get the nasty, black crap off my body in the hamam is called a kese and it is quite different from a loofah. I have also learned that the frisbee bowl thingy, the towel, and even the fashionable wooden shoes from hell are all known quantities in hamam land.
One trip to eBay and $40 later, I am now the proud owner of 2 kese, "the" lemon cologne, henna, jasmine bath soap (traditional is olive oil soap), and some Turkish coffee. SCORE!
So, for now, I will indulge myself with these items that bring to mind so many good memories.
Links that rocked my world and set me up (besides eBay):
http://www.yiyelim.com/
http://www.tulumba.com/
posted by LisAnt at
2:32 PM
1 Comments
