One of the more bizarre experiences I encountered in Turkey was a visit to the hammam in Istanbul. I confess, after investigating a ‘local’ hammam, I decided to choose one of the more upmarket establishments on offer. I’m always up for a bit of adventure, but when nakedness is involved; I prefer to play it safe. So off I went to Cemberlitas, near the Grand Bazaar in Sultanahmet, for an authentic, yet sanitary experience of a Turkish bath.

After I chose and paid for a body wash and scrub from the menu of services, I bid my boyfriend goodbye and set off into the female only section, armed with a scrubbing mitt, a small rectangular bar of soap, and a locker key. Once inside the locker room, I self-consciously unchanged, leaving on my bikini bottoms.
The attendant gave me a ‘peptemal’, which was like an oversized tea towel. I wrapped myself up in it, and proceeded nervously into the mysterious realm of the hammam, unsure of what awaited me behind the heavy wooden doors.

I was greeted by a moist waft of steam, and when the door closed behind me, I was immediately struck by the beauty of the ‘hot room’. Light streamed in from numerous tiny round ‘skylights’ in the high domed ceiling, bathing the marble interior in a warm glow. In the centre of the room lay an enormous round, flat stone, around the perimeter of which, women were being washed and scrubbed to within an inch of their lives. In the centre, women appeared to be ‘baking’. Around the outside of the round room were bathing areas with marble basins filled with warm, clear water.

Having absolutely no understanding of hammam protocol and suddenly feeling very self-conscious, I headed to one of the marble basins to wash myself. To my amused embarrassment, as I tried to lather up, I soon realised my little yellow bar of soap wasn’t soap at all but a plastic token! The penny began to drop, and, looking around, most of the women held the same token, only in different colours. Later I realised that yellow was for a body scrub, and red for body scrub and massage.

Feeling a bit silly, I approached one of the women who had just finished scrubbing someone senseless, and showed her my token. She abruptly motioned toward the centre of the stone, so I gingerly climbed on, carefully avoiding the other bodies. “Okay, surely this was meant to be relaxing”, I thought, lying back with my towel still firmly wrapped around me. The warmth from the heated stone began to spread through me, and the soft rays of light sneaking through shapes in the domed ceiling filled me with a sense of calm.

Not for long! The hammam, is a busy, noisy place! A mother tried to calm her shrieking baby boy whilst her young daughter was being scrubbed. Women sat on a marble step, chatting (naked and spread-eagled), waiting for their friends. I began to feel very self-conscious, not of my nakedness, but of my modesty- I was one of the only women wearing bikini bottoms! Everyone else seemed so unconcerned, free and liberated. Bodies of all different shapes and sizes splayed out and bounced around under the scrubber’s mitt.

Then it was my turn. I moved to the outside, lay on my towel facing upwards, and handed over my mitt and token. The attendant produced a piece of gauze that she expertly dunked into the water and then filled with air, pumping it over my body and covering me in millions of soapy suds. Bracing myself for the scrub, I was pleasantly surprised by the firm but gentle exfoliation I received. Then, I was flipped over like a breakfast sausage and the ritual was repeated. I wondered how many of these the attendant performed in an average day…

Next, I was shepherded over to a basin, sat on a marble step, and doused in warm water, removing my protective bubble suit, and returning me to my birthday suit. My hair was then shampooed, before the attendant left me to my own devices for a final rinse off.

Squeaky clean, I made my way into the next room, where women waited for massages, wrapped in fluffy towels. As I didn’t opt for a massage, my hammam experience had come to an end.

After drying off and changing, I entered into the balmy Istanbul night feeling a little bemused, a little relaxed and very, very, clean.