Once inside the 16th century Hurrem Sultan Hammam, I entered through the door marked “Gentlemen Only” and found myself in a room glowing in an ethereal blue haze, accented by pinpoints of ochre light from dozens of votives. There were cushions for lounging scattered about a central cascading fountain and beds, covered in crisp white sheets, bordering the lounge area. The man at the desk greeted me in a soft Turkish accent, “Welcome Sir”.

I was led to a changing room to the right of the lounge area and told to remove all my clothes so that I was wearing only the towel and slippers provided me. Once he saw that I was ready, my attendant guided me through a set of doors to a three story chamber walled completely in gleaming white marble. In the middle of the room before me was a marble table the size and shape of a circus ring. Upon it were three men covered in bubbles at the hands of their attendants.

My attendant brought me into a smaller side chamber with a single marble slab and instructed me to lie down. I had read that the slab would be warm, but no written description can convey the delicious feel of such a smooth warm surface against your skin. My attendant then turned on three fountains, one at my head and one on either side of me, and they began to fill the room with steam.
As the steam enveloped me, I felt as if I was drowning in a warm cloud. The fountains echoed throughout the room, and I lay there lost in the unreal thought that I was looking up at the same star filled ceiling that had enchanted men in this room 500 years before me.

I was brought back from my thoughts by my attendant who indicated I should move to one of the fountains. He began to douse me using a bowl filled with warm water. There is a technique to it that is not pouring water over you or splashing water against you, but more like transferring water from the filled basin to your body, like the gentle touch of a wave in a swimming pool as it runs into you.

I was taken from gentle touch to rough abrasion as my attendant, wearing a coarse glove, began to scrub my body, removing layers and making my skin as soft as the marble upon which I sat. I was doused again with warm water and instructed to return to the marble slab. My attendant then filled what I can only describe as a large mesh sleeve with bath soap.

I’m not sure how it was done exactly, but there must have been soap at the bottom of the sleeve which filled with foam when water was added. He then repeatedly held the sleeve over me and squeezed the suds out of it, like I was a cake being basted in layers of whipped cream. For the second time, I had the feeling of being immersed in a cloud.

Once he had covered me in about 18 inches of bath suds, my attendant began to wash me from head to toe using only his hands. As awkward as that may sound, I didn’t even think about it at the time but enjoyed a combined massage and bath as I closed my eyes and listened to the fountains splashing around me.

The bathing was followed by another rinse, and I was wrapped in three warm towels before being led to one of the beds off of the main lounge. I was told to relax and to enjoy the life of a sultan while another attendant placed a silver platter, with a cup of Turkish tea, beside me on the bed.

After 20 minutes in repose, I was told by my attendant that it was time for my massage. I was guided up a set of polished wooden steps to a balcony above the lounge and brought into a private room where I was instructed to lie down on the warm table while he rubbed essential oils into my skin. I drifted off as he relieved the tension brought on by five weeks of traveling.

My attendant finished and led me back to the main lounge where I was told I could stay as long as I wished, and I was brought another cup of Turkish tea. I sat there marveling at the opulence of my experience and realized that I, too, had just been conquered by the Turks.