An Informal Education

Everything I read about Turkey said no trip was complete without the must-have experience of a traditional Turkish bath. It seemed very foreign to me, but I am a sucker for must-have experiences. From the pictures, this looked like a pleasant all be it a unique spa experience.

One day, after a delicious kebab lunch at Doy Doy Restaurant, the proprietor of the Historical Turkish Bath Sifa Hamami/Tarihi Hamam pitched us their bath package. I knew I wanted to do this in Istanbul because it was more likely that staff would speak English and be used dealing with tourists. The price is right. This was it—if I did not do it here I knew I would chicken out.

I was directed into a little change room where I put on my bikini and wrap myself in a provided towel. Then, I was directed to a marble steam room where I was to lay on a marble plinth. The only sounds were the steady dripping of condensation and the laughing of the women outside. I tried not to notice what was growing on the walls, and how it is green and seem like it this cannot be good for my lungs.

An attendant came in took my hand and led me to a private room. She spoke no English. Without the exchange of names or pleasantries, she removed both my towel and bikini, with alarmingly efficiently. So, there I was naked. I continued to try to remain open-minded to this must-have experience.

Wordlessly she began to scrub my skin with a rough sponge. I was badly sunburned so my tender skin peeled off my legs in clumps. As she scraped my skin off she kept saying, "so dirty," shaking her head and clucking her tongue. Next she pours almost boiling water over my raw flesh. My eyes were now streaming with tears. She chuckled and sang some Turkish songs, which at least disturb the silence. Then she soaped my whole body, sparing no crevice. I felt violated, I questioned my sexuality, and I wondered what it would be like to be raised in a culture like this.

The shock of it all aside, I certainly do not regret going. Historically this has been an important part of Turkish culture and community. I feel envious of the sisterhood that I imagine would develop in communities that shared this. I knew even though it unnatural, to me, I was better for it.

Stretching experiences like this are the best part of travel; we learn that normal comes in all different forms. No one way is better they are just different. It can be challenging to try other ways of doing things, but ultimately we are better for it.