The Turkish Bathhouse

There was a time back in Winter 2011 – together with my then partner – that I found myself in Istanbul, Turkey. It was a transient visit, a way to remain outside of the Schengen area for a time. We thought we’d explore Istanbul for a couple of weeks.

It was a treasure trove of collectable experiences and memory-making. Not a dull moment to be had along the way. One memory in particular stands out as one of my favorite experiences in Istanbul and one of my cherished core memories in my life for the amount of laughs it has brought me over the years.

I love the opportunity to create new memories wherever I go. I love equally well the chance to do so from a locals’ perspective, when possible. I searched for local bathhouses in Istanbul in my local vicinity, but most were extremely polished, English-speaking and looked…expensive. I didn’t want the version of Istanbul bathhouse that catered to tourists. I wanted a more authentic version. So I kept my eyes peeled as my partner and I wandered her streets each day.

One day, we got lucky and encountered a building along the street that, from its outside appearance, you could tell it was a bathhouse. We went right over to it and popped our heads in the door. The interior of the bathhouse was decorated modestly and we were immediately greeted by two older women. They picked-up pretty quickly on the language gap and promptly handed over a pamphlet in English as they explained their services to us in detail, in Turkish. We selected the base-level bathhouse experience from the pamphlets we were looking at and were promptly ushered to changing rooms to undress and put on the bathhouse-appropriate towels they handed each of us.

Once we were each adorned in our towels, we were led down a hallway into an unsuspecting room that was easily two stories tall covered in marble from ceiling to floor. It was an open space and it was just the two of us. We were instructed to lie down on the heated marble floor; I suspect it was for the purpose of opening our pores. The instructions were given in Turkish, so the details were unclear. Even with the uncertainty, the floor felt deliciously cozy and not a concern was had. Not sure at how much time had passed, a large man in a towel came for my partner first. He was as Turkish as a kebab. No English was spoken; He used hand gestures to alert my partner to get up from the floor and follow him down a hallway to another room. And there he went.

I comfortably waited my turn to be greeted and led to the next part of my bathhouse experience. It wasn’t long before I was receiving hand gestures to follow a dark-haired woman as she led me to another room. My partner was nowhere to be found. I wasn’t sure if we would end up in the same room at some point or not; I was along for the ride.

The room I entered next was exceptionally Piscean and dreamy. Fountains dramatically lined the walls every three feet at hip level, flowing with running water. A solid marble bench lined two of the four walls, protruding out beneath the fountains along the walls. The room was a moderate size, but the dome ceiling made the room feel larger than her true measurements would declare. In the center of the room stood a simple, but elegant marble slab table about six feel in length by three feet wide, supported by thick marble beams on each side. It was where I was guided to lie down for the next part of my experience.

I was instructed to remove my towel and lay on the heated marble slab table. The heated table was, again, deliciously cozy. It was then that three women began to soak my body in warm water poured from urns and bathe me with sponges that felt like soft, puffy little clouds. I lost all sense of time. It felt like hours had passed. At some point, I was instructed to rise from the marble slab table and go sit next to one of the fountains along the wall on the marble bench. They demonstrated how each fountain had two spouts: one with hot water and one with cold. As the water flowed out from the wall, the water mixed and landed as warm water into the fountain bowl where you could dip your hands into the water and splash it on yourself to remove any excess soap.

After an uncertain amount of time playing delightfully in the fountains, I was given my towel to put back on and escorted to the dressing room to change into my clothing. Once dressed, I happily waited in the main lobby for my partner to be finished with his bathhouse experience – excited to share my amazing experience with him and eager to hear how wonderful his was as well.

Minutes passed before the door opened into the front room I was standing in and out walked my partner. He walked passed me directly to the changing room – never making eye contact. Not even a glance. I could tell something was off. He didn’t float out the way I had. He looked like he’d just survived something.

Once he was dressed, we turned our attention over to the woman who was ready to collect payment. We each paid the same amount for our bathhouse experience. I was happy with my experience and pulled out extra cash to leave a tip. That’s when I received a wide-eyed look of alarm from my partner. Confused, but wanting to complete the transaction, I handed over a tip to cover both of our experiences. We thanked the team in English and head out the door in silence, but I could feel his tortured confusion.

As we made our way out the door to the street, we knew we needed to play catch-up on what just happened. He wanted to know why I felt compelled to leave a tip for what just went down and I wanted to know why me leaving a tip for that beautiful experience had him so confused.

I told him all about my amazing experience being bathed like a Goddess in a temple and how I was still reeling from the bliss I felt during the whole experience. He stared at me in silence. Confused. Then he began to relay his experience play-by-play and by the end, I was no longer confused why he was reluctant to leave a tip for his experience.

The Turkish man that greeted him in the marble hall led my partner to a room that by his description, sounded similar to my room. Fountains, marble everywhere, benches. He was instructed by the Turkish man to lie down on the marble slab table and what happened next was where our experiences deviated.

For the next hour, my partner was aggressively sung to in Turkish while being stood over and pulled, pushed, pressed and punched into health by a hearty fellow that apparently decided that my partner’s tolerance for bathhouse torture was amazingly high. My partner described how the Turkish man climbed on the table, stood over my partner’s body with my partner’s stomach pressed against the table, and proceeded to grab his wrists and pull his body back as hard as he could until my partner’s body was arched back into a yoga pose he wasn’t ready for.

Over the course of the hour that he was in that room, he described the aggression of this man as someone with a deep grudge and clear intent to take it out on his subject (my partner). He recounted that this Turkish man belted out soulful Turkish melodies during the entire session and seemed unbothered by my partner’s discomfort with the whole ordeal. By the end of the session, my partner was questioning his manhood. If this was how Turkish men experienced a bathhouse, perhaps he was being too soft.

When we were both outside after the bathhouse experience, recounting the details, we began to understand the awkward exchange that took place when I suggested a tip for both of our experiences. I didn’t know he had just been beaten to a pulp. And he couldn’t imagine that my experience would have been so blissful; Our experiences were worlds apart.

Anyway, in case you are considering a bathhouse experience in Istanbul, as a woman I can highly recommend it. My partner’s recommendation is conditional: For those seeking deep tissue work, pilates-level intensity or for those that enjoy an occasional beating, proceed. All others, perhaps stick with the tourist bathhouse version or set a “safe word” prior to your session.

I hope the humor of this story was captured in this writing. It still makes me laugh to this day and I hope it brought you laughter as well.