Hamam

The last night in Cappadocia, Jim and I arranged for a traditional Turkish steam bath, or hamam. Our hotel owner arranged for us to go to one that has operated continuously for 300 years in a nearby town.

Let me give you just a taste of our experience. At 8:30 p.m., Jim and I are the only customers. We are shown to a small dressing room where we undress and wrap ourselves in pestimals - red thin, long cloths. We go into the central domed area, where we douse ourselves with water from basins set around the room. We are directed to the steam room (similar to a Finnish sauna) and sit in there until we are steaming.

Our masseuse shows up and our eyes grew rounder. If I were casting a Hollywood film with a steambath scene, he would get the part! He had a thick, dark mustache and curly black hair. Jim commented that his other job must be as a middle linebacker with the Oakland Raiders. He was about 6 foot 3, 260 pounds, with not an ounce of fat.

He gives us each a massage in turn. After pouring HOT water over you, he scrubs you with a coarse cotton mitten. (I thought it was a wire brush; Jim thought it was sandpaper). This loosens any dirt, and my top skin layer actually came off in tight, little rolls. He rinses you off in HOT water for a second time. He pours tons of soapy suds all over your body, and starts the massage. Our bodies must tell tales, because he spends more time on Jim’s middle back and more time on my neck and shoulders. When our massage was done, he shampooed our hair. After a final HOT rinse, we swim in a cool pool under a domed ceiling.

And, the experience was still not over. We are given dry, blue pestimals to change into, then big Turkish towels are wrapped around our shoulders and heads. Led to a carpet lined sofa, we are given hot tea to sip. Last, lemon oil is splashed on our hands and, via gestures, we’re told to rub it into our skin.

It is after 11:00 p.m. as we ooze out onto the street. Jim and I look at each other. Has this really happened? Unforgettable!