I lay, somewhat self-consciously, at a communal stone slab with nothing covering me expect a tiny pair of paper undergarments while a tiny Turkish woman washes foamy bubbles over me. I’m thankful that the baths are not busy and that it appears — for now — that I am the only person partaking. The bubbles tickle my skin I can’t help but let a laugh escape, which of course, makes me more self conscious.
Others told me that when I visit Turkey, I absolutely had to have a traditional Turkish bath. At the time, all I knew was that it was akin to a spa experience and it was something I really wanted to try. Once arriving in Istanbul I sought out — along with my travel companions — a traditional bathhouse. We opted to go all in and experience a high end bath.
Located near the major sites, the Ayasofia and the Blue Mosque, the Hammai is tucked away — while not necessarily non-descript, it’s also not glaringly obvious. Stepping through the arch marking the entrance and walking inside, there’s a sense of feeling transported to an era long forgotten by the modern world. Beautiful marble flooring with cushions and small tables are surrounded by individual rooms where one can leave there personal items. A female attendant leads me to the women’s bath where I’m given a single papery undergarment to wear.
The experience was incredible; the hot room (think giant clay pot meets sauna) was wonderful and the bubble massage was relaxing, if not ticklish, I was not prepared for the communal part of it. Or the feeling of being so . . . exposed. Of course, I have had massages in my life and I’ve had communal bathhouse experiences, I was at an Onsen when I traveled through Japan many years ago, but never have the two collided — getting a public “scrub down” while being in my birthday suit and in female only communal space.
The experience ended with a more traditional massage — in a private room followed by delicious Turkish delicacies. It was a truly unexpected, but pampering experience.