My Turkish Hamam Bath Experience in Istanbul: Kilic Ali Pasa Hamam

The concept of “Turkish baths” was completely foreign to me until I mentioned to my roommate in Egypt that I had tentative plans to head to Istanbul for a few days on my way back to the United States. Her face lit up like a Christmas tree, and she flopped back onto her bed to regale me with stories of her time in Turkey, showing me the jewelry she had bought at the Grand Bazaar, photos she had captured at the Hagia Sophia, and then she said: “There’s one thing you really need to do, but only if you don’t mind being naked in public.”

Do I mind being naked in public? Of course I mind being naked in public, you psychopath. What kind of question is that? I understand that everyone’s body is virtually the same, and I am not ashamed of mine, but generally the thought of being topless in front of utter strangers is enough to make me uncomfortable, no matter how illogical it seems and no matter how free-spirited I strive to be. What could this girl possibly be about to recommend in which nudity is a requirement?

What is a Turkish bath?

A Turkish bath, or hamam, is a place of public bathing that dates back to the Ottoman Empire and is still a staple of Islamic culture today. They are modeled after Roman bath houses, complete with pillars and marble.

Originally, as is the Islamic custom, men would go to the baths to receive a full-body cleansing before their prayers, so the baths were designated for men only and often were attached to a mosque. In Ottoman times, there were hamams specifically for women, and they were a place for socializing. Now, the hamams are for both men and women, but they almost always bathe on different floors, or at different times of the day.

The baths are made up of a warm room, a hot room, and a cool room (for, shockingly, cooling off). Not every hamam is exactly the same, but most of them follow this general format.

What It’s Really Like

After my roommate in Egypt told me about the bath, I knew it was something I had to do, even if it involved exposing my lack of endowment to the world. How could I forego something that was so much a part of the cultural identity of the region? It simply would not do.

Choosing the right hamam was tricky. You could get a bath for $20 or $120. Some baths required you to bring your own shampoo and soap, some provided it for you. Some had attendants to bathe you, some made you bathe yourself. I wanted a traditional experience, but on month 5 of my (unpaid) sabbatical from work, I wasn’t trying to break the bank.
Kılıç Ali Paşa Hamam was the perfect compromise, providing soap, shampoo, conditioner, and a scrub down (plus, massages if you want to spare the extra money), and it had some of the most impressive reviews.

Making my booking was easy. I was able to do it right from their website a day in advance with no issue, and heard back within an hour with a confirmation of my time slot. The hamam is open to women from 8 am to 4 pm, and to men from 4:30 pm to 11:30 pm. I wanted to go after a day of exploring so I could be warm and relaxed for dinner with my new hostel friends, so I picked a time slot in the mid afternoon, right before they closed for ladies.

I arrived anxiously, as I do most things, and strode up to the desk to check in. I was seated at a table in the large entry room, which was surrounded by gorgeous stone walls, a domed ceiling, with a marble fountain in the middle and day beds with women relaxing in robes and sipping tea along the sides.

I was excited, but still a little wary.

After sitting at a table, a cold towel and a cup of pink juice was deposited in front of me, and I was supplied a key and told to go upstairs to a stall and undress into nothing but a pair of panties and a towel. “Remove your bra,” they advised. I didn’t know what to do with the towel, so I awkwardly dabbed it against my face and hoped no one was watching. I took a sip of the plum sherbet, a traditional and refreshing fruit and spice drink that have been served to guests of baths for centuries. I appreciated the attempt to wine and dine me, just a little bit, before trying to get me out of my skivvies.

For the record, you are definitely supposed to keep your bottom underwear on. No running around the hamam completely nude, please. It just isn’t how it’s done. I did a little research beforehand, luckily, so I wore one of my only pair of full-butt panties and thanked the lord that I hadn’t instead opted for a really impractical (in all spheres of travel) thong, or just going completely commando.

I changed into my panties and wrapped myself in a towel, slipping into sandals that were far too small for my alarmingly thick cankles, courtesy of too many flights in too short a time period, which burst out from under the strap like they were trying to escape. Trying to ignore my immense, blistered feet and how pale and greasy I looked in the mirror, I wrapped myself in a towel, locked my clothing and phone away in the provided complimentary locker, fastening the key to my wrist, and clopped back downstairs to my table.

From there, I was led by a woman, using broken English and seeming like she’d already done this 100 times that day, through a door into the bath. The first room had sinks all along the wall, and she took a strong hand to my shoulder, lowering me down and unceremoniously dousing me over the head with cold water before I knew what hit me. She pulled me back up and brought me into the hot room, where things started to get really naked really fast. Picture it (or, on second thought, don’t): boobs everywhere you turned.

I’m not trying to make this pornographic, I swear. Bear with me.

The reality is, though, that there are about a dozen women in the hot room with you, and everyone is bare breasted. The room was grey and white, steam clouding my vision, arches along the walls housing marble sinks with golden faucets atop wet, marble steps. I was instructed to lie on a hot, raised marble stone in the middle of the room and relax, so I slithered in next to another topless woman and looked up at the domed ceiling, admiring the architecture in a situation in which I would not normally think to admire architecture.

The stone is hot so that you can freely perspire, and if anyone is an expert at perspiring freely, it is me. The woman who had brought me in had also plopped a cup of water next to me on the stone, which turned out to be incredibly necessary, as sweat poured relentlessly down my face and back. But despite the heat, this part was comfortable, and actually did feel like you were sitting in a sauna after a spa treatment.

Just as I was drifting into my own world, I was pulled up and led to a sink along the wall of the circular room, where I sat and was vigorously scrubbed by a gruff Turkish woman who continuously called me “lady” even after I told her my name multiple times. “Too hot, lady?” “Condition, lady?” “Turn over, lady.”

She wore a scrubbing loofa in the form of a mitten and scraped it along every part of my body, including my feet, during which I had to resist the temptation to scream and kick her in the face. She grabbed my arms without a single modicum of care or tenderness and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed, from shoulder to fingertips, chatting with her colleagues as she worked. She washed and conditioned my hair, and massaged my arms and legs briefly (which, even though I didn’t pay for a massage, still felt heavenly).

At one point she rolled down my panties a bit to scrub my lower back, and I couldn’t help but think, “this woman is looking straight down my buttcrack right now.” I was thankful for it, though, because at least it distracted me from my sustained and exhausting effort to avoid accidentally and awkwardly looking at anyone else’s breasts, particularly the woman at the sink directly across the room from mine, whose massive tatas had been directly in my line of sight for the better part of 20 minutes.

After being covered in light, fresh, foamy bubbles and rinsed one last time, I was patted dry, wrapped in another towel, and dispensed into the lobby once again, as if I had just gone through the entire process on a conveyor belt: in, scrubbed, and out. I was warm from the inside out, my skin was impossibly smooth, and I smelled better than I had in many weeks of backpacking. I took a seat on one of the plush beds around the room, sunk into the welcoming pillows, and sipped happily on a hot apple tea.

My trepidation for this particular experience, while understandable, turned out to be completely unnecessary. Once I was able to move past the woman sliding a loofa across my naked boob, and the ten other naked women surrounding me on all sides, I was able to do something I had not been able to do yet while on the road: relax. It is a cultural experience that can’t be missed in Istanbul, and I was taken aback at how very much I enjoyed it.

Tips for the Best Hamam Experience

Do your research. Make sure that you have all the supplies that you’ll need for the particular hamam that you choose, which may include shampoo, soap, and underwear, and whether you’ll have a place to keep your belongings. Kilic Ali Pasa Hamam offers free shampoo, conditioner and shampoo, towels, lockers, blow driers, and sherbet upon arrival. Most traditional hamams (which are usually less luxurious) do not offer all these amenities, however, especially conditioner, so make sure you’re prepared. Ladies, you may consider bringing your own leave-in conditioner and a brush, as the shampooing process is forceful, and can wind your hair into one massive knot.
Keep your panties on. But remove that over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder, unless you want to stick out like a sore thumb. I’ve heard that if you do try wearing a bra or bikini top, the thing will get ripped right off of you mid-scrub anyway.
Bring a new pair of underwear with you. Because yours will be getting soaked.
Go later in the day, or right before bed. The experience makes you warm and sleepy, and wandering around the city for an entire day of sightseeing and sitting on grungy subways afterwards negates all the calming and cleansing benefits of your bath.
Lighten up. This is the most important part. If you are able to put aside your modesty and embarrassment, for only about an hour, you’ll leave feeling refreshed and happy. Try not to ruin the experience for yourself by getting self-conscious or uncomfortable. Embrace it. Because it’s an experience you’ll remember for a long time.