Turkish delight: Why hamam is not a spa

Turkey is synonymous with hamams. And while I had no intentions of getting one, I was rather surprised when I was offered a complimentary hamam bath at Raffles Istanbul.

Deniz Met, the Director of Marketing, explained in detail the traditions attached with the hamam, I couldn’t help romanticising it, but I kept thinking, “that’s probably just a Turkish version of a spa”.

Hamam or Turkish bath is an important wedding ritual too, much like a haldi ceremony in India. “Many of us,” she said, “also indulge in a hamam when the going gets tough.” Deniz told us that now various parties were held at the baths, for example: the bridal bath ceremony — which was held a day before the wedding festivities commenced; the votary bath — held when a person’s wish was fulfilled; and even a tear-drying bath — attended by all relatives and friends of the deceased twenty days after her death.

Hamam or Turkish baths, originated from the Arabic word hamma (meaning: heating up). As I lay on göbektaşı, the central, raised platform above the heating source — after spending five minutes each in sauna or hararet and steam rooms — my masseuse, Zarife, started pouring warm water on me till my body was supple enough for her to start scrubbing it with a piece of linen cloth.

Slowly in a rhythmic manner, she scrubbed the dead skin away. Little thread-like elements leaving my body, like the baggage of yesteryears was slowly bidding me farewell. I looked at it with disgust thinking I couldn’t possibly be so dirty! Sensing my discomfort at the sight, the masseusse, with a comforting smile, said: “Normal … Normal!” Just like the meaning of her name, Zarife was truly a very kind person.

She then lathered me with a sudsy swab, tiny bubbles unwinding on my body with a promise of a new beginning. And after giving me a good massage, she rinsed away the lather. Next, she dipped her hands in ice-chips and then pressed those cold hands on my body to normalize the body temperature.

I was asked to sit up after the cooling down, and then she started pouring water on my head to shampoo my hair. That nano second was the highlight of the hamam for me. The moment she poured water on my head my eyes welled up with tears. I wasn’t sure why I felt so emotional after the hamam, so I decided to fight back the tears from rolling down. For that tiny moment, my mind was quiet, and that’s when I knew hamam isn’t just a spa.

I felt extremely nostalgic, memories of my childhood came rushing in. The last time someone bathed me with such care was my mother, I thought, and I let a tiny drop of tear escape my eye.

Zarife then guided me to the cooling room or soğukluk, where one can relax, have a cup of tea or coffee. That was the end of what became an experience of a lifetime.