Turkish Hamman - Istanbul, May 2010

For my last day in Istanbul I promised myself that I would finally make it to a hammam after having all intentions of visiting at least several times during my two week stay. After lazy about all day and chatting on Skype, I finally dragged my lazy self out into the streets of Sultanhamet in search of the Cemberlitas Hamami which was recommended by the lovely Turkish cleaner at my hotel. I had found another hammam in and internet search but didn't like that it was more catered to tourists and was mixed ie. men and women in the same area. Even the guys working in the reception of my hotel advised against this.

So I strolled up the main street towards the bazaar and there it was and so was I. I actually got really excited when I got to the door as I realised I have wondered what this would be like for so long and all those ancient paintings of naked women in a marble room made me wonder if it really was like that. Well it was and is! So the lady asked what package I would like to purchase - there's the "self-service" option for 35 lire which means you scrub yourself, rinse etc and just relax in the hammam, then the other options were someone else doing that for you and the luxury option was finishing the day with an oil massage. Well I decided that I havent had a massage during my last two weeks of intense dancing and I had intended several visits, so I splurged and got the luxury package for 95 lire plus a pedicure which I havent had since before starting India back in Jan so I still have India heels (pretty!).
You are handed a couple of coloured tokens one red and one yellow, a cotton saron, loofah and brand new pair of black undies in a cute little gift bag (must be one size fits all OR she sized me up well!).
I walked into the main enterance area looking very lost and was directed upstairs by the voices from a harem of very large, old Turkish women. I got to the top of the stairs and the lady tells me to strip and put my belongings into the locker and head over for my pedicure which was just what my poor little feet needed. I was then motioned down stairs where one of the old Turkish ladies escorted me shyly wrapped in my cotton sarong and sexy white plastic slippers into the hammam. It was brilliant! The room is octagonal with little holes in the roof to let the natural light stream in and in the centre of the room is a marble slab that is heated and you lay your sarong onto and then plonk yourself on there too. So you work up a sweat from the hot marble and steam in the air - I failed to mention that there are nervous women like me lying everywhere in black undies and no top - how as a woman do you politely look away when a massive Turkish woman with zulu boobs nearly touching her knees walks past you.
I'm certain we were all sneaking a peek at whose were better - is this what men do at the urinals but fail to admit it??!!!
So I tried to lie there comfortably and act local like I've done this a million times before - my cover was blown by my enthusiasm within the first 10 minutes. So the lady who escorted me in motioned for me to lie on the slab and left the room, I waited for 10 min and she didn't come back and I saw other women using the marble taps around the edge of the room and the metal bowls to pour water on themselves to cool off and then start scrubbing with the soap and loofah. So after observing this and thinking about all the travel books I have read with women in Morocco visiting hammams and the ritual, I decided this is what you do. So I got up and paraded across the room in my undies (its parading when you are topless Im sorry!) and started rinsing etc. Then the Turkish lady comes in and see's me and gets angry say "No I do this you relax" (insert rough scary voice). "OK" I replied and lay back on the marble slab as she strips in front of me in her undies with huge saggies in my face as she kindly puts on her bikini top. Yes I know I'm a woman I shouldnt be so shocked - its just how it unfolded and that these women were even in the foyer swinging them around, its so opposite to gym change rooms in Australia where MOST people keep them to themselves!
So there I lay on my tummy as she lathered me up, scrubbed me raw, rinsed me and then my favourite part she took me over to the taps at the side of the room and washed my hair. I sat there for a moment and felt like I was a little girl and mum was washing my hair again - it was perfect and I recommend a hammam for anyone missing their mum as it really took me back to being a kid and getting a bath - no soothingness of a day spa this is all about getting the job done!
After a few buckets of warm water to rinse me off she directed me into another room where I gave my red token to another lady who lay me down for my oil massage. Dont think Thai aromatherapy oil massage either - think more Johnson & Johnson baby oil with some knuckles working out the knots in my back. But it was brilliant. At this point Im lying there alongside other women getting massaged thinking I feel like I had been broken down and rebuilt over the last two hours. There was something soothing about it and once I got over the boobie factor, after my massage I found myself back in the hammam resting on the warm marble slab that reminded me of being a kid lying on the warm concrete beside the pool.

After sweating it out for nearly 2 hours in between rinses and giggles at the horror on tourists faces as they walk in to be confronted by boobies, I sat in the main foyer with the rest of the zulu boob troupe and enjoyed a freshly squeeze oj and chai. Seems like I timed my exit perfectly as a group of school kids rocked up - school kids going to hammams??? Imagine what they are saying about their teacher? Well they are lucky anyway as I was lying there scheming how I could build a hammam in Australia and charge entry :)
Definately something you must do before you die and definately an experience I would like to share with my daughter like one Turkish mum and daughter there. It really is like those paintings and so very relaxing when you get over your shyness.
To finish a perfect arvo I found a hairdresser across the street and got a haircut - they say Turkish hairdressers are some of the best - my guy was just snip happy and I have never seen so much of my hair on the floor, nor felt like I was going to cry and vomit at the same time. Alas my lack of faith turned out to be for nothing - he gave me one of the best haircuts I've ever had for 30 lire which included a blow dry and all the staff in the salon clapping in joy at how long my hair is and the end result.
What a beautiful finish to a special trip in Turkey - I will be back next year Istanbul, this time with no suitcase so I can have my wardrobe sponsored by the Mango outlet store :)
Next blog... Greece