The Turkish bath... oh the bath...

the first picture is the door of the baths, then the lounge area where we had tea, Megan and Vivvi in their table runners (note the orange Crocs Vivvi is putting on) the hallway of the bath from the second floor, and the cute Turkish restaurant we went to before the bath.

After the Bazaar, we met up with our group and decided that we would split off boys and girls.  Megan, Vivvi and I went to a cute little Turkish restaurant for some Baklava and hummus.  We decided (mostly because I pushed them) that we would check out a Turkish bath.  Originally, we thought it was too much money, but I played the “when in Rome” card and convinced them that it would be worth it – and boy was it ever.  We didn’t know exactly what we were getting into, but we were together, so what the heck right?  When we paid, we each got a loofah like hand mit and a token for our massage.  We went through three sets of doors and upstairs (since it’s a Muslim country, the men are separated from the women) to the lockers.  We were handed a table runner – literally. The “towel” was nothing… and we were told to take our clothes off.  Each locker had a pair of slip-ons below it, some pairs blue and some pairs orange.  Vivvi was ecstatic because there was a pair of orange Crocs under her locker.  She had nicer shoes than us, AND there were socks in hers.  Ugh.  I donned my over-used orange flip flops with a tinge of jealousy of Vivvi’s Crocs and we were almost ready to head out.  UNTIL, three naked French women came into the locker and one of them pointed at Vivvi’s feet and said “mine.”  Keep in mind that as this is happening, Vivvi was doing a “my Crocs are better than your crappy flip-flops” dance.  It was hysterical.  So – here we are, off on the wrong foot already. 

We returned to the lower level, and headed through two more large sets of doors.  Our final destination was a large circular domed room with a large marble circular slab in the middle.  On the slab were two naked women, friends we presumed, scrubbing each other with their loofah mits.  We kind of circled the marble for a while, and once Megan saw that one woman had underwear on, she bolted back to get hers.  After avoiding this awkward situation, I decided that it was time to go for it – when in Rome right?  I told Vivvi to lie down and I started scrubbing her.  We were merely doing what the other naked friends were doing, it wasn’t that weird right?  We giggled quite a bit, because we had no idea what was going on, and we felt awkward being naked in front of each other, and other women.  About half way through my scrub down, a bus load of Scandinavian women busted into the room – great, 40 more naked women.  As if the first two and my naked friends weren’t enough.  Keep in mind that I am a fairly modest person, and I have not seen any of my best friends who I have known for years naked.  Now I’ve seen more parts of Megan and Vivvi than their gynecologist has.  It just wasn’t right.  With the arrival of the Scandinavians, we were separated on the marble slab, and things got increasingly more uncomfortable.  I was laying on my stomach looking at Vivvi on her stomach clear across the marble and we were giggling again.  Eventually, we decided that we’d had enough of the marble slab and we wanted to go get our massages, so we exited.  We weren’t sure where to go, so we stood outside the big room and all of a sudden, an army of naked Muslim women appeared out of nowhere.  It was at this point that we realized that the original “friends” scrubbing each other were nothing of the sort.  The one in the underwear was a masseuse and was giving a massage to a client.  Hmmm, so me scrubbing Vivvi was apparently out of line, but whatever- I was just trying to get into the swing of things.  Once the Muslim women realized that we were getting a massage, they shuffled us back into the slab room.  What?  We were just there for 20 minutes – what were we doing back with all the naked Scandinavians?  UGH!  By this time, the slab was full, and the Muslim women (who were naked except panties – apparently that was the uniform of the masseurs – underpants – so Megan was on the clock evidently) pushed the older women back and moved them into the center of the slab.  There wasn’t enough room, so now there were women with their knees drawn up to their chests watching every move that was made by the Muslims to us.  Hmph.  Vivvi and I laid head to toe – and prepared for our “massage.”  They used their bare hands, and lots of soap bubbles, and cleaned every part of me.  When I saw every, I mean EVERY part of me.  Her hands have been places no one else’s have ever been – or ever will be.  So once again, Vivvi and I were on our stomachs laughing, but trying desperately not to, with an audience of Scandinavian women watching, getting a soapy massage.  Then, much to my surprise, my Muslim woman slapped my ass hard, evidently that was the signal to “flip over” so I did.  Now she was coming at my chest and crotch with bare hands and soap bubbles.  Imagine too that when I refer to these soap bubbles, that it’s a dishwasher with too much liquid soap- I was drowning in bubbles.  Don’t worry though, each soap cycle was followed with a dousing of water – from a big bucket.  Awkward and weird.  Once she was done “massaging” my chest and front, she slapped me again, and it was time to get up.  SO – now I’m prancing around in front of my friends and this tour of older women. Lovely.  I was plunked down against the wall next to a water spout – and it was time to wash my hair.  She applied some sort of yellow-y substance to my hair and proceeded to wash it.  Then, I was doused with more buckets of water – of course within eye sight of Vivvi so we were laughing AGAIN.  How inappropriate could we be?!  She finished with my hair and then handed me the table runner.  Apparently I was done.  Vivvi and I got the hell out of there, and returned to the locker room in a state of shock and awe.  Megan was not there, and we couldn’t figure out where she would be, so we headed BACK to the marble slab room to look for her.  At this point, I had no modesty whatsoever, so I just yelled out, MEGAN?  Megan –are you here?  We rescued her and all left.  Man oh man.  We got a cup of tea in the “lobby” area afterwards, and sat in silence trying to debrief what had just happened.  Vivvi pointed out that every person (mostly men) in the lounge knew what we had just been through – and it made it all seem just that much worse. 

At any rate, we survived and it will make for a good story for the rest of my life, and I have created a bond with Vivvi and Megan that can never grow stronger than it did while lying on a marble slab naked.