May 27, 2001

My friend, Susanna, was visiting from the US last week. On her first day here, she showed me a notebook with a list of things she wanted to do, restaurant suggestions and advice gleaned from library travel books. Among the many items on her list was, "visit a Turkish bath," and underneath, "Go with Tamia's recommendation." This was a bit of a tall order for me because I hadn't ever been to a Turkish bath (except the private baths in Termal... but they are a bit different). Fortunatly, the subject had come up in a conversation among friends here and one had recommended the Cembirlatas Hamam. It was built by the famous architect, Sinan, and I knew where it was. It also had two equal bathing chambers for men and women, where some baths only have luxurious men's sides and inferior women's facilities.

We decided to go on Sunday evening. Saturday night, we looked over my various travel books trying to memorize bathing etiquette and other bits of useful information.

"It says we are expected to tip 20% of the bath price divided amonth the attendants," Susanna read. "How are we supposed to carry tips while taking a bath?"

"It's a historic bath frequented by tourists. I'm sure the staff will let us know how and when to tip them," I reassured her.

One book suggested wearing underwear under the towels provided by the baths until one was able to establish the level of clothing acceptable in the bath. For men, apparently, the standard is to keep the lower parts covered. For women, it varies. A friend told me that when she went to a hamam near the Black Sea, the women wore T-shirts. In other places underwear is the norm while in still others, nothing is worn.

The books also mention that no Turkish woman would allow herself to be washed or massaged by a man and suggested following their example. I told Susanna I would ask and if they didn't have women masseuses, we would try Ciagoglu.

Armed with the results of our research, we met at 18.30 in Sultanahmet and grabbed a bite to eat, trying to ignore the touts on the Divan Yolu.

I have a good idea for a Turkish souvenir. It is the Turkish Tout Doll. You pull a string in his back and off he goes, "Hey lady are you lost I like your dress you are beautiful are you a kiwi or an aussie it is nice to be nice hey you dropped something i can help you why don't you talk to me where are you from OH MY GOD..." Needless to say, we were accosted by the prototype that night. We adopted a quick pace and were soon in the entrance of the hamam. The first thing I noticed was a multilingual sign with prices and explanations of the services:

• $8 self service option
• $15 Body Scrub, Soap Scrub, Massage, Shampoo, Tips Included
• All men are bathed by men. All women are bathed by women

With a sigh of relief, we bought two of the $15 options and proceeded into the women's section.

We chose lockers and an attendant brought us a thin towel and slippers. I asked her what we should or shouldn't wear. She told me to take off everything. We obeyed and walked into the bath wrapped in our towels.

It was a lovely domed room with small holes in the roof that let the daylight in. Marble arches led to marble sinks. In the center was a large marble slab filled with young women lying naked waiting to be bathed.

There was something strangely child like about it.... like children lying on the floor in preschool at nap time. On the wall there was a sign written in red letters in several different languages reading, "It is forbidden to bathe naked."

Susanna and I found a place on the warm marble slab and relaxed in the steamy heat. Architects should design houses with heatable marble slabs in the bathrooms.

The attendants came in. They had all stripped to their underwear. They selected some women and arranged them along the edge of the marble slab. Then they began washing them. You have the option of buying a personal scrubber thing and a bar of olive oil soap or using a common one. Since the scrubber thing is used first to scrub off the sweat and dead skin of the person being bathed, it is advisable to purchase one or bring one from outside.

Susanna and I were in the second group. I asked my masseuse the typical quesitons: How is it working here? ; How many hours do you work? ; How long have you worked here? She answered, "Its a job and one must work, right?" She apparently was working a lot. She had been there for a year and her work day lasted from 10 AM until Midnight.

She scrubbed and soaped me up and gave me a light massage. I then mentioned that I worked at a computer so my shoulders and back always ache. This got me a bit of an additional (and appreciated) shoulder and back massage and pounding. Next she took me to a sink and washed my hair. Then I was led back to the slab. She arranged my towel and I thanked her. She didn't seem too exausted in spite of the hong hours. As she started washing the next girl, she sang a song softly. The other masseuses were chatting and laughing. Susanna and I rested on the marble slab for a while. Then we rinsed off by the sinks which had both cold and hot water.

We walked into the changing room and dryed off while studying the architectural plan of the building. "Hmm," I said. "We seem to have missed a 3 story domed room." On the map there were four domes. Two domed hot rooms (one for men and one for women) and their respective 3-story domed cold rooms. The cold room was supposed to be where you relax and drink tea. On our way out, we noticed one 3 story domed room which after a quick glance which revealed a bunch of men in towels, I determined was only for the men. I guess the women's cold room was ruined at some point. Refreshed and very clean, we went out to find drinks elsewhere.

Speaking of Towels... Douglas Adams, I salute you. I hope you remembered your towel for your journey into the afterlife.