A Turkish Delight

Quarzazate, our stop on Day 5 was the hometown of our guide Jamal.  He was looking forward to sleeping on his own bed and going to a Hammam.  Lora Lei immediately jumped on this, having just read about Hammam and finagled an offer for us to join him at his local public Hammam.  

 

 

 

The word Hammam is Turkish.  In western countries, a Hammam would be called a Turkish bath, sauna or steam bath.  Let me be very clear, the process is not a spa treatment. For many Moroccans, it is a weekly process and has been part of their lifestyle since the Ottoman Empire rolled across North Africa in the 11 Century. It is a part social and part hygienic experience.  Sort of a Tim Horton’s without Timbits, where people get together to catch up with their neighbours and friends.







 

Despite it closeness to Europe and huge numbers of tourists, Morocco is a very traditional country.  Especially so when you are outside the larger centres of Fez, Marrakesh and Casablanca, here all the women clothe themselves from head to toe in traditional garb.   So, it was no surprise to find two entrances into the Hammam.  There are no mixed Hammam in Morocco.  I was lucky as I was accompanied by Jamal while the ladies were left to fend for themselves.
 

I can only personally speak to what happened to me but when we compared experiences, they seem to parallel each other. What surprised us all was that the women with no hint of shyness went topless for most of the process and bottomless for the rest of it while on the men’s side, we wore our bottoms throughout the entire process. Go figure and yes the ladies dressed appropriately.  To quote Nonie, “the Moroccan women are able to hide quite a bit under their djellabas.”

After paying a 10 dirham entrance fee and receiving a big bowl of this dark grease like substance, we entered what was immediately recognizable as a change room that looked no different from the many public change rooms I have seen around the world.  Stripping down to my tighty whiteys, I was handed two large pails and another bowl and led into the first room.  My mind immediately went into overdrive in an attempt to figure out what the grease, bowl and buckets were for.

The Hammam consisted of three rooms, hot, hottest and not so hot. We entered the hot room and it was freaking hot.  I was instructed to fill both buckets with hot water from taps located along the wall of the room.  The hot water coming from the tap was near boiling point so you needed to be careful to mix water from both the hot and cold taps to prevent scalding yourself. Following instructions, I used the bowl to scoop water over myself in a do it yourself shower, emptying both pails.

Shower over, we moved into the hottest room. The air was sucked out of my lungs. Fighting hypoxia, I refilled my pails, and was led to a clear floor area of the crowded room. Here I was told to throw my buckets across the floor, which didn’t make sense to me till I realized that they did not provide mats and that I would be lying on the bare and extremely hot, tile floor. Lying on my back, I either passed out from the heat or found my inner bliss; either way is was very relaxing when I wasn’t gasping for breath.  Once my back had reached medium well, I was told to flip over on my stomach.  After warming my front side, I discovered that a Hammam is not something that can be properly completed alone.

Dragging myself up from the floor, I was instructed to smear and scrub the brown grease looking stuff all over my body. Getting some help from Jamal for those hard to reach places.  I learned later that the grease is called “sabon beldi” and is a soap made from black olives.  

Once greased up, I was introduced to our Hammam attendant. For another 60 dirham, the attendants are available to provide you with the full Hammam. He stood about 5’ 4” and was as wide as he was tall. Burly would be an apt description, not fat.  No English or French, so he gave his instructions using grunts and gestures.  First, he grunted at me to me lay on my stomach, not a comfortable position for someone who has recently been greased up. Several buckets of rinse water later, it suddenly it felt like he was rubbing my back with 60 grit sandpaper. He was using a scrub glove called Kiis. Not too painful, more like the feeling you get when haven’t seen the dental hygienist in a few years but not something you would wish to prolong.

He sandpapered my back then had me roll over and did the same to my front, including my head, face and the soles of my feet. I was unclear as to what he was trying to accomplish but it became apparent when I sat up and opened my eyes. Dead skin was everywhere.  Your body can shed between 30,000 and 40,000 skin cells every hour, I am sure I had shed my quota for the next year.  It was quite astonishing.

 Numerous buckets of rinse water later, I was pristine. There wasn’t any part of my body (except the boys) that was not covered in fresh new skin. I positively glowed.  A little clean up of the area and I was again ordered to lie down on my stomach. Smeared with some oil, the attendant proceeded to massage,   bend and manipulate me in ways that I was sure God had not meant.  He would take me just to the edge of physical damage and pain then release.  My grunts became interspersed with his grunts.  With a final grunt, he grabbed my head in a hold that I am sure has been banned by most police departments in Canada and gave it a final stretch.

I took a few moments to sit along the wall and catch my breath before proceeding to the not so hot room. Here you could sit on the floor, sweat some more and relax with your own thoughts or join in the lively conversations happening around the room.  If you were smart, you brought your own refreshments.

The ladies experienced a similar process but with no Jamal to lead them, struggled at first with what to do. A nice local took them in hand and guided them through the process. Assisted by two attendants, they were exfoliated but sadly no massage. Nonie still has her Kiis for anyone interested in enjoying their own Hammam.

 

It was truly a unique experience. Hammam varies from country to country. Morocco was the only one I found where exfoliation is part of the cleansing process.