Hammam - The Turkish Bath

Looking North from the Suleyman Mosque

You can’t go to Turkey without taking a Turkish Bath, or Hammam. So it was we found ourselves in the Sultan Suleyman Hammam lying on a large square slab of marble with the sound of water noisily pouring into basins around the room.

Turkish baths go back into antiquity, starting with the Romans who migrated into the Byzantium Empire, baths were later embraced by the Ottomans. Mosques were built with a complex of buildings that always included a hammam. Many of the active hammams in Istanbul were built more than 500 years ago. These were not dens of public debauchery though; there were separate days assigned to men and women.

Hurrem Sultan Hammam

We’d booked the ‘Couple’s’ hammam and had not been sure what to expect. On our arrival we’d been ushered into a tiny changing room: “Man in shorts; Woman in towel!” the attendant had said; a generous pair of men’s swim pants hung on a chair beside a very small patterned towel (called a peshtemal), resembling a dishcloth/tea towel. We undressed, put them on, slipped our feet into sandals, and walked out, Carol just managing to keep herself contained. The same attendant ushered us into a sauna.

It was hot in the sauna; we sweated profusely, and frankly we didn’t last long. Although it seemed like we’d been there forever, we’d clearly come out too early by the looks on the faces of the staff. Eventually, they ushered us into the hot room where we now lay. This room is all marble; the large raised slab where we lay was like a king-sized bed with two wooden pillows and we lay there to relax for some minutes. The roof was a dome and all around the walls were large marble basins.

Hot room similar to ours

Eventually, the door opened and a young couple walked in; these were our masseurs; and immediately they turned on the water taps as they introduced themselves. We were face down as the first bucket of hot water hit me. As pleasant as it was, it was a surprise. Quickly, the masseurs got to work, soaping us down and flooding us again. Then it was time for the scrub, back and then front. He rubbed my skin rigorously with an abrasive cloth: you’d think it would hurt but it made my skin zing. Then, surprise, another bucket or two of hot water hit my head and back. Carol doesn’t like water in her face – I heard her gasp and squeak and few times.

Hammams on every street

Next was our foam massage. Each masseur got a long muslin cloth bag and soaked it in soapy water then they opened one end and swished it back and forth, causing it to inflate. Then, holding it in one hand they ran it through the other thumb and finger to squeeze the tiny soap bubbles out, as they held it over us. I glanced over at Carol and she looked like a giant foam turtle, with just her head, hands and feet poking out.

Once fully covered, it was time for our massage. Now, I like deep massage and I was not to be disappointed as this guy grasped, kneaded and put his weight on me. He even yanked my fingers and toes so I thought they might come off. But, he found knots and lumps I didn’t know I had… Finally, after throwing another couple of buckets of hot water over me, he sat me up and washed my hair… …finished with the inevitable heavy rinse!

It was time to go. Now, few surfaces are slimier or more treacherous than soap-covered marble. I managed to stand up and slip into my sandals without falling over. Then, I struggled around the ‘bed’ to help Carol out – sensibly, she’d left her glasses in the locker, but that had left her clutching that wet tea towel around herself, while trying to feel for her sandals. We managed to extract ourselves without stubbing anything.

As with all things in Turkey, after we’d dried and dressed, it was time to relax with tea and Turkish Delight before we left. We strolled out into the Istanbul afternoon, glowing, and walking just a little bit lighter…

View along the Bosphorus