hammam heaven - the full story
the entrance hall of hammam in aleppo feels wonderfully cool after the heat of the dusty streets of the old town. the hammam *concierge* gives me a checked sheet and asks me to wait until the bath is ready. would he have been a eunuch a few hundred years ago? he certainly looks the part, a hyperactive man with a huge belly. i'm excited and nervous as i have never been inside an oriental bath before, and the people who told me about their experience either loved it or hated it. No help from them, i have to judge for myself. i climb up to the upholstered benches on the gallery lining the lobby. from up here i have a great view of the hall, the fountain in the centre, clients in white towels reclining on the benches opposite, employees stacking towels, sheets, wooden flip flops. everyone seems to know what they are doing, except me.
my other group members appear. the concierge-eunuch asks us to get changed and hands everyone a checked sheet, but i hold mine up triumphantly. i'm a good client who came early and is now ahead of the group! we retreat behind a decidedly see-through curtain to change and wonder how this goes with arabic modesty. we are also provided each with a soap bar and a black, scratchy goat head hair loofa, and with a pair of the wooden flip flops i noticed earlier. those together with the sheet do not add to a chic look nor make they walking on the smooth floor easy.
we enter into the belly of the hammam. a maze of wet passageways leads us to an atrium. from there we follow our tour guide into the steam room. we sit down and relax. so far, it's very much like your average european sauna. i'm enjoying it. we chat a lot to hide our nervousness and maybe a bit of embarrassment as we are sitting there naked and sweaty. after about ten minutes of intense steam, my finger tips are crumpled, my pores must be wide open for sure, and we are called into the bath. we walk rather timidly, which has largely to do with the very slippery tiled floor under our very awkward flip flops.
here we are in the hot bath. two rather fleshed out ladies are sitting on the wet slabs, dressed in what looks like black wet lingerie, a basin of water between them. this is the moment of truth. i am called by one of the ladies, she smiles a gap-toothed smile and i fear the worst. i get down on my bum between her legs. she takes the loofa and soap off me, takes water out of the basin with a bowl and quickly poures it over my head. as i'm spitting i make a mental note to keep my eyes and mouth closed at all times while i'm in here. she soaps me up like my mum did when i was... 4, until my body looks white and bubbly. then i'm being scrubbed down from head to toe with the loofa as if i was a dirty frying pan. the olive oil soap is used as shampoo, and i regret not bringing a conditioner. i'll never be able to comb my hair again. my bath mistress raises both my arms to scrub all my bits properly, and i just start laughing hard. ticklish! she rubs my belly, and with a diabolical and mildly disgusted look presents to me the loofa which has gone from dark to white. *too much dirt*, she compliments me. am i the filthiest client she ever had?, i wonder.
the first wash is finished, and the lady pushes me down until i lie flat on my back. on the wet tiles, she shoves me over to her colleague as if i was a slimy fish on a work top. i am not used to being manhandled by women, or anyone for that matter, and put up some resistance. so mistress number 2 gets down to business. she kneels beside me, pins my arms firmly to the sides of my body, and starts massaging my neck. that's nice. actually, it's very very good. all those long bus rides, bad beds, the heat, and the a/c aches are being rubbed away. i'm turning on my front, she continues the massage. when she reaches my feet, i'm tickled again and cannot help laughing out loud. there is definitely an echo. i tickle the lady's sides in retaliation, she laughes and gives me a kiss on both cheeks. i wish this part of the treatment would never stop, but i realise that the kiss was the sign for me that the wash is finished. the two ladies wrap me up in a white, fluffy towel, hand me my flip flops, and let me go.
i catch up with the other girls in the atrium. hot and sweaty, but clean, we look for a way to cool us down. there is no cold pool in a hammam, but we find a basin with lukewarm water that feels cold to us. we take off the towels, grab a bowl each, and start splashing the water over each other. it's great fun playing with the girls. finally, we get back into towels and flip flops, and make our way back to the dry entrance hall. tea, perfume and shisha are waiting for us.
i feel clean, refreshed and very very relaxed.
my other group members appear. the concierge-eunuch asks us to get changed and hands everyone a checked sheet, but i hold mine up triumphantly. i'm a good client who came early and is now ahead of the group! we retreat behind a decidedly see-through curtain to change and wonder how this goes with arabic modesty. we are also provided each with a soap bar and a black, scratchy goat head hair loofa, and with a pair of the wooden flip flops i noticed earlier. those together with the sheet do not add to a chic look nor make they walking on the smooth floor easy.
we enter into the belly of the hammam. a maze of wet passageways leads us to an atrium. from there we follow our tour guide into the steam room. we sit down and relax. so far, it's very much like your average european sauna. i'm enjoying it. we chat a lot to hide our nervousness and maybe a bit of embarrassment as we are sitting there naked and sweaty. after about ten minutes of intense steam, my finger tips are crumpled, my pores must be wide open for sure, and we are called into the bath. we walk rather timidly, which has largely to do with the very slippery tiled floor under our very awkward flip flops.
here we are in the hot bath. two rather fleshed out ladies are sitting on the wet slabs, dressed in what looks like black wet lingerie, a basin of water between them. this is the moment of truth. i am called by one of the ladies, she smiles a gap-toothed smile and i fear the worst. i get down on my bum between her legs. she takes the loofa and soap off me, takes water out of the basin with a bowl and quickly poures it over my head. as i'm spitting i make a mental note to keep my eyes and mouth closed at all times while i'm in here. she soaps me up like my mum did when i was... 4, until my body looks white and bubbly. then i'm being scrubbed down from head to toe with the loofa as if i was a dirty frying pan. the olive oil soap is used as shampoo, and i regret not bringing a conditioner. i'll never be able to comb my hair again. my bath mistress raises both my arms to scrub all my bits properly, and i just start laughing hard. ticklish! she rubs my belly, and with a diabolical and mildly disgusted look presents to me the loofa which has gone from dark to white. *too much dirt*, she compliments me. am i the filthiest client she ever had?, i wonder.
the first wash is finished, and the lady pushes me down until i lie flat on my back. on the wet tiles, she shoves me over to her colleague as if i was a slimy fish on a work top. i am not used to being manhandled by women, or anyone for that matter, and put up some resistance. so mistress number 2 gets down to business. she kneels beside me, pins my arms firmly to the sides of my body, and starts massaging my neck. that's nice. actually, it's very very good. all those long bus rides, bad beds, the heat, and the a/c aches are being rubbed away. i'm turning on my front, she continues the massage. when she reaches my feet, i'm tickled again and cannot help laughing out loud. there is definitely an echo. i tickle the lady's sides in retaliation, she laughes and gives me a kiss on both cheeks. i wish this part of the treatment would never stop, but i realise that the kiss was the sign for me that the wash is finished. the two ladies wrap me up in a white, fluffy towel, hand me my flip flops, and let me go.
i catch up with the other girls in the atrium. hot and sweaty, but clean, we look for a way to cool us down. there is no cold pool in a hammam, but we find a basin with lukewarm water that feels cold to us. we take off the towels, grab a bowl each, and start splashing the water over each other. it's great fun playing with the girls. finally, we get back into towels and flip flops, and make our way back to the dry entrance hall. tea, perfume and shisha are waiting for us.
i feel clean, refreshed and very very relaxed.
posted by SCHNUCKELCHEN at 9:07 pm
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