Turkish Bath
Original Sent Date: May 4, 2005
Another for mass e-mail story for some of you…
I would say that the highlight of my vacation would have to be going to a Turkish bath. Since I was the only girl in my over-testosteronized group and the baths we chose were not unisex, I was forced to brave this experience on my own…yikes.
I walked down this musty staircase into a building that was probably about 500 years old (I have nothing to back that up). Everything was made out of marble and the ceiling has a million little octagonal windows letting in the light. So pretty. A very very old Turkish woman greets me at the door, says “Clothes” while pointing to the closet, “towel” pointing to a towel, and “bath” pointing to a door. Slightly confused, after I figured out my clothes had to be removed and left behind, I was way out of comfort zone…
So I dressed in a towel and followed the old lady into a maze of marble, where she turned on the water in what can only be described as a large, low, sink, and took my towel away. Took it off my body and out of my hands—I felt like someone had robbed me. I almost cried.
But, I sucked it up (ha! and in!) and began pouring bowlfuls of warm water all over myself as instructed (well, gestured to do). Periodically, through my self-bath, a random, half-naked Turkish woman would wander through and only assume what was her weekly laundry.
So, after what felt like a very long period of time pouring water over myself, my old Turk lady came back…only not wearing nearly enough clothing.
I’ll leave it at that. Ok, I won’t… it was only a way too small pair of bikini underwear… and time had dragged her down very low. She points me to a marble slab in the middle of the room…I lie on it, but not in the way she wanted. After 5 minutes of gestures, I finally manage to lie on the slab in the proper Turkish-bath way.
She attacked me with a brillo-pad like instrument and it kind of hurt and felt like heaven at the same time.
The skin came off me in huge dead-fish-gray rolls.
While I realize that my personal hygiene has declined, I didn’t realize it was to the point that my skin is gray. Not appealing.
She finished up, (signified by a slap on my rump) so I went to rinse away that horrid skin.
After too short of a break, my old lady came back. I got back onto the slab, and she soaped me down…it was only slightly weird at the moment to be bathed by an old, nearly-naked Turkish woman, but probably should have felt much more peculiar. Her very strong hands massaging me the entire time comforted me. It was definitely the best massage I had ever had and the cleanest I had been in about 8 months.
So I rinse off again, and she comes over with a small stool. She sets it down, plops onto it, and pats the area between her legs. Naturally, I am a little unsure if this is really the place I want to be, but I go over anyway (it seems like all I do these day is ignore my instincts). So she washes my hair with incredibly strong banana smelling shampoo—I’m pretty sure it was Pantene Pro V—while massaging my scalp. I relax, thrilled at this pleasant surprise, when she slams my face back between her large, low-slung breasts and massages my face.
I blush. We rinse off, and I avoid her eyes. I feel slightly violated, but very relaxed. Hmm.
Afterwards, the sauna…I should have done a bath (just slightly less violating) every day…
I hear the boys had a slightly difference experience, which involved Nate having “the shit” beat out of him with his masseuse slapping him, yelling YES!, and meowing like a cat. But you’ll have to ask Kyle for those details…
All right, just thought I would send a few of you this slightly more risqué story…enjoy, and let me know how your lives are! I miss you all…
I would say that the highlight of my vacation would have to be going to a Turkish bath. Since I was the only girl in my over-testosteronized group and the baths we chose were not unisex, I was forced to brave this experience on my own…yikes.
I walked down this musty staircase into a building that was probably about 500 years old (I have nothing to back that up). Everything was made out of marble and the ceiling has a million little octagonal windows letting in the light. So pretty. A very very old Turkish woman greets me at the door, says “Clothes” while pointing to the closet, “towel” pointing to a towel, and “bath” pointing to a door. Slightly confused, after I figured out my clothes had to be removed and left behind, I was way out of comfort zone…
So I dressed in a towel and followed the old lady into a maze of marble, where she turned on the water in what can only be described as a large, low, sink, and took my towel away. Took it off my body and out of my hands—I felt like someone had robbed me. I almost cried.
But, I sucked it up (ha! and in!) and began pouring bowlfuls of warm water all over myself as instructed (well, gestured to do). Periodically, through my self-bath, a random, half-naked Turkish woman would wander through and only assume what was her weekly laundry.
So, after what felt like a very long period of time pouring water over myself, my old Turk lady came back…only not wearing nearly enough clothing.
I’ll leave it at that. Ok, I won’t… it was only a way too small pair of bikini underwear… and time had dragged her down very low. She points me to a marble slab in the middle of the room…I lie on it, but not in the way she wanted. After 5 minutes of gestures, I finally manage to lie on the slab in the proper Turkish-bath way.
She attacked me with a brillo-pad like instrument and it kind of hurt and felt like heaven at the same time.
The skin came off me in huge dead-fish-gray rolls.
While I realize that my personal hygiene has declined, I didn’t realize it was to the point that my skin is gray. Not appealing.
She finished up, (signified by a slap on my rump) so I went to rinse away that horrid skin.
After too short of a break, my old lady came back. I got back onto the slab, and she soaped me down…it was only slightly weird at the moment to be bathed by an old, nearly-naked Turkish woman, but probably should have felt much more peculiar. Her very strong hands massaging me the entire time comforted me. It was definitely the best massage I had ever had and the cleanest I had been in about 8 months.
So I rinse off again, and she comes over with a small stool. She sets it down, plops onto it, and pats the area between her legs. Naturally, I am a little unsure if this is really the place I want to be, but I go over anyway (it seems like all I do these day is ignore my instincts). So she washes my hair with incredibly strong banana smelling shampoo—I’m pretty sure it was Pantene Pro V—while massaging my scalp. I relax, thrilled at this pleasant surprise, when she slams my face back between her large, low-slung breasts and massages my face.
I blush. We rinse off, and I avoid her eyes. I feel slightly violated, but very relaxed. Hmm.
Afterwards, the sauna…I should have done a bath (just slightly less violating) every day…
I hear the boys had a slightly difference experience, which involved Nate having “the shit” beat out of him with his masseuse slapping him, yelling YES!, and meowing like a cat. But you’ll have to ask Kyle for those details…
All right, just thought I would send a few of you this slightly more risqué story…enjoy, and let me know how your lives are! I miss you all…
Darcie
PS—We also went with some random Turkish street vendor to his apartment in the middle of the night to “drink tea.” Probably not the smartest idea, but I still have my kidneys. Everything works out, I guess.
PPS—I have this quote from a boy “I will lay siege to your boundaries like the Byzantines were besieged by the Ottomans.” Didn’t work. I think I’m becoming bitter in my old age.
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