Hamman (Bath)

I forgot how wonderful a hamman can feel. This time I had one where I could be by myself. I lay on a narrow wooden bed, with palm-woven pallets and a small pillow, in the middle of a terra cotta-painted room with a rounded roof, inset stone benches, and lots of hot, running water pouring into a basin. Lying there in silence as the steam collects in the room gradually relaxes your body and leaves the world to your imagination as the steam turns the irregular pattern of the hamman ceiling ever more hazy. Before I removed my glasses, I even saw a violet character like a check mark drifting across the ceiling. Definitely, another world. Just as you are completely relaxed (after about 15 minutes), waxing ever more languorous, your body covered with perspiration, the tayeba (hammam assistant) appears. She begins by taking a bowl and sloshing warm water over your body. Then she rubs you on both sides with a brown, olive oil soap, washed away with cascades of temperate water. Next, comes a stimulating working over with a scruffing mitt (kees), followed by rinsing. After the scruffing and rinse on each side, your face is swabbed with soap and rinsed. Then finally, you are asked to sit up. Bowls of water are poured over your body. Your hair is rubbed with ghasoul (clay earth) and rinsed. You stand up and approach the basin, where slightly cooler water gushes over you to complete the bath. As I put on the robe, exited the hammam,and prepared to dress, I couldn't remember when I had felt so refreshed. I didn't want the feeling to end. The last time I'd had a hamman was in Damascus several years ago. I was wondering why I had put off the experience for so long. I thought my scholarly, academic persona had conquered my personality. Now I began to see the inkling of another side.