When I was a student in Japan, I distinctly remember one night when
all us girls were sleeping in a dormitory-style room with the study
abroad director's wife as chaperone. She got changed into her jammies
right there in front of us and laughingly tossed off some comment like,
"giving birth to five children has destroyed most of my sense of
modesty, sorry." At the time, I didn't really understand that. Now,
having given birth to two children, I TOTALLY DO.
As
manifest by the fact that today, I went to a Turkish Bath, with my kids.
The Turkish bath experience requires one to be mostly or entirely naked
for vast swaths of time, and there's no point in going at all if you're
not down with that. It's not fleeting, discreet nudity, either. You are
naked, and there are people scrubbing the heck out of your skin with
exfoliaing cloths, and then rubbing you down with strong soap, and then
rinsing you off, all in an open, women-only area where other bathers are
enjoying the same treatment. Ready to hear more?
I took the girls in with me and although the hammam didn't charge them an admission fee, they were each issued towels and slippers, which they loved. First stop was the facial mask. Magdalena and I opted in; Miriam opted out. Then it was on to the sauna, where I didn't get to spend nearly enough time - the girls' constitutions couldn't handle it, which is fine. So we headed out to rinse off the masks in the shower and get prepped for our scrubbing/washing/massage.
That's where the nakedness comes in. Perhaps if I had insisted, I could have kept a towel on to cover strategic parts of my body, but in those circumstances, it would have been ridiculous. It was so obvious that we were all just women in there, just bodies, and while it was briefly a little sad to be reminded of what pre-childbearing boobs look like, it was also refreshing to just be at ease with my body for once.
Once again, Magdalena and I opted in to the scrubbing and washing and massage. Miriam was content to observe intently. After we were all as clean as the dickens, we headed to a large pool of cool water to relax. A sign at the entrance to the pool gave me pause: "Entering the pool with ironcloth or without bannet or swimming costume is exactly forbidden." Honestly, I couldn't discern what it was trying to tell me, so we went in with our swimming suits on and called it good.
Afterward, we enjoyed some apple tea and then undid most of our relaxation by walking uphill in the noon heat to get back to our hotel. Still, I'm calling this a net positive - it was an awesome experience, and I'm kicking myself for not going to the hammam weekly back when we lived in Syria where it is dirt cheap to do so. Then again, I hadn't given birth to children yet at that time of my life, so my pesky sense of modesty would have kept me from enjoying what would have been a great deal of relaxing fun. What a relief to be free to enjoy it at last, am I right?
 |
| Outside the Turkish Bath in Goreme. |
I took the girls in with me and although the hammam didn't charge them an admission fee, they were each issued towels and slippers, which they loved. First stop was the facial mask. Magdalena and I opted in; Miriam opted out. Then it was on to the sauna, where I didn't get to spend nearly enough time - the girls' constitutions couldn't handle it, which is fine. So we headed out to rinse off the masks in the shower and get prepped for our scrubbing/washing/massage.
That's where the nakedness comes in. Perhaps if I had insisted, I could have kept a towel on to cover strategic parts of my body, but in those circumstances, it would have been ridiculous. It was so obvious that we were all just women in there, just bodies, and while it was briefly a little sad to be reminded of what pre-childbearing boobs look like, it was also refreshing to just be at ease with my body for once.
Once again, Magdalena and I opted in to the scrubbing and washing and massage. Miriam was content to observe intently. After we were all as clean as the dickens, we headed to a large pool of cool water to relax. A sign at the entrance to the pool gave me pause: "Entering the pool with ironcloth or without bannet or swimming costume is exactly forbidden." Honestly, I couldn't discern what it was trying to tell me, so we went in with our swimming suits on and called it good.
Afterward, we enjoyed some apple tea and then undid most of our relaxation by walking uphill in the noon heat to get back to our hotel. Still, I'm calling this a net positive - it was an awesome experience, and I'm kicking myself for not going to the hammam weekly back when we lived in Syria where it is dirt cheap to do so. Then again, I hadn't given birth to children yet at that time of my life, so my pesky sense of modesty would have kept me from enjoying what would have been a great deal of relaxing fun. What a relief to be free to enjoy it at last, am I right?