Bath Time

It's been a week since we went to the Cemberlitas Turkish bath in Istanbul. Now that I've had time to really process my thoughts about the experience, I need to express them. At the least, it'll be therapeutic for me to write it all out.

One might ask why I would even consider going to a Turkish bath. I don't particularly like public gym or locker room situations and this pretty much consolidates all the things I don't like into one. On top of that, I really don't like being touched by others. This is why I don't go to spas and why I've never gotten a massage.

The Cemberlitas bath was built in the 16th century and my understanding is that the original purpose was for Muslims to cleanse themselves before praying, though their website says this one in particular was built to generate revenue for the "Valide-i Atik Charity Complex in Toptasi, Üsküdar", whatever that is. This one is very popular though with tourists and from what we were told, we shouldn't be heroes and try to test out one of the less-touristy ones. Fine by me.

The services were a la carte, so I could have just gone with the basic entry to the bath, and had a swell old time on my own for the morning. It was only a little more to have someone scrub and bathe you and since that seemed to be the way to get the true and full experience, I went with it.
After walking in and paying, Jenn, Anna, and Rachel were taken in one direction to the women's bath section. I was on my own. I was already feeling extremely vulnerable, so it didn't help matters when I was shown to a changing room and told to disrobe. A pastamal, basically a cotton towel wrap, was provided to wrap around my waste. I left all my belongings in the changing room, locked it, and was then escorted downstairs. To get to the bath area, it requires walking through the main atrium where many people are either paying or sitting at tables hanging out. It's awkward.

I entered what appeared to be an enormous sauna. There was a large round marble platform in the middle and it was surrounded by "private" areas along the outer walls with a marble step to sit on and small bird bath looking basins of water. Wrapped in my pastamal, I took a seat on one of the side steps and made an attempt to relax. The sweat was nice, I guess. I've never thought of myself as a germaphobe, but all I could think about the entire time was when was the last time this place was sanitized. And this isn't to say the place didn't look clean, because it did, but it is a few hundred years old and lots of lots naked bodies pass through every single day. When was the water in the basin last changed out? How many other people previously were leaning their bare sweaty backs against the same marble wall against which I was leaning? Needless to say, and this will be a running theme, my biggest problem, is that I couldn't relax. A spa or bath will never be enjoyable without relaxation.

After a while, the other patron in there with me walked over to the large marble slab in the middle and lied down. As he did, one of the men who worked there walked in the room and proceeded to bathe him. I watched in horror as this was happening 5 feet in front of me not because of the actual act, but because I now knew what was coming. The whole process took about 30 minutes and the whole time I was trying to decide if I should cash in my chips right there and leave.

A few minutes later, my anxiety reached new heights as another half naked attendant walked in, first pointed at me and then pointed at the center slab of marble. Now, I know it's hot in there. It's literally a sauna, but I think that they could come up with some kind of uniform for the attendants that would not be too uncomfortable. There I was, lying on my back, with nothing covering me but the pastamal, looking up at a Turkish man in his 40's, also with nothing on but a pastamal wrapped around his waste, ready to use my body as his playground.

He tried to make it more comfortable and put me at ease by talking to me, but it wasn't helping. My body was rigid as a board as he used the loofah type sponge to scrub and exfoliate my skin. He used his bare hands at times to massage different parts of my body, but again, I was so tense, that it did no good. I had my eyes closed for most of it, trying to imagine I was somewhere else, specifically thinking back to February when I was at the Super Bowl watching Tracy Porter intercept Peyton Manning and return it for the game clinching touchdown for the Saints. This image usually helps me in stressful situations, but it wasn't doing much good as reality kept setting in when my hand or other parts of my body would inadvertently brush up against the sweaty flesh of his bare stomach. He could obviously sense how uncomfortable I was and it seemed like he wanted it to be over as much as I did. He continued though for what seemed like an hour, but was probably more like 15 minutes.
 
When it was completely over, he told me I could go back and sit in the sauna. I declined. I was done. I really felt uncomfortable at this point and somewhat violated. I don't use that word lightly and I'm not trying to be funny as I fully understand the connotation. However, I do feel it best describes my state of mind at this point. While I had an idea of what was going to happen, I know I didn't fully grasp what the full experience would be like until I actually went through with it. Now, I know.

I rinsed off in the shower, but still did not feel clean, and headed back upstairs to change. Before I walked out, my attendant strongly encouraged me to bring him a tip when I came back downstairs.

After changing, the upstairs attendant also pushed a tip jar in front of my face to made sure I understood that tipping was not an option. I also tipped the guy downstairs. If only there was an amount of money I could have paid at that point to erase the entire experience from my memory, I would have gladly forked it over.

I sat in the atrium and waited for over an hour before the girls were finished. I tried to think if there was anything that would have made it less stressful for me. I am confident it wouldn't have made a difference if it was a man or woman doing the scrubbing. The sex of the attendant wouldn't have changed the fact that it was a stranger, I was in a strange place, and in a completely vulnerable state being touched all over. They enjoyed the experience much more than me. We went and had lunch and eventually I was able to go back to the hotel and take a nice, long shower. I finally felt clean again.

I realize it sounds like I'm overreacting, and in a way, I know I am, but I'm also being honest. I can't help the way I feel. One of Tigie's (my grandfather) favorite sayings was "different strokes for different folks", so I totally get how some people would enjoy this type of experience. I understand why people get massages and go to spas. I just know it's not for me. It's strange because I come from a very touchy-feely family.
Personal space is sacred to me and I do not like people encroaching on it. I'm not sure why I am the way I am, but at least I know myself and my boundaries. There are other ways in which I choose to relax.

As I reflect back on the experience, I'm glad I tried. Even though I do usually have a very good idea whether I'll like something or not before I do it, there is always the chance I'll be surprised. If the worst thing that happens from trying is getting a naked Turkish man give you a full body scrubbing and rub down, I can live with that.