Turkish Delights

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Bathing

By Christina

Part I – Antalya

Late in the afternoon of our first day in Antalya, we trundled down the street to the local hamam (Turkish bath), where folks have been sweating out their sorrows for more than 700 years. We were all very excited about the opportunity to use the sauna, receive a body peel (intense scrub) and soap massage. The place did not disappoint. It has recently been refinished but still contains the beautiful architecture and design of the original building. The rooms are heated using hot water in pipes beneath the floor (a Roman invention, as we know from our visit to Bath, England last year). Because we were the only clients, the four of us were allowed to go into the bath as a group. We all nuded up, and with a towel to cover us, lay down on the large marble platform in the center of the room to do some serious sweating.

After about forty minutes, the two brothers who ran the hamam arrived (wearing just towels around their waists) to go to work. They scrubbed the heck out of our skin, then lathered us up for a soap massage, washed our hair, and finished us off with a dousing of warm water. I have never felt so clean and refreshed in my life. After the bathing, the fellas wrapped us up in towels and escorted us out to the lobby for tea. We must have been quite a sight with all of us sitting there in towels (the two hirsute brothers naked to the waist) sipping our tea. We all enjoyed the experience so much that we vowed to do it again at the next opportunity.

Part II – Canakkale*

*Parents: you may want to screen this entry before allowing your children to read it. Abby and Grayson read it and thought it was hilarious, but I don’t want to embarrass you or your children.

Abby and I got the opportunity for a second hamam experience in the town of Canakkale, across the water from the Gallipoli peninsula. As before, we undressed in an alcove in the lobby area, covered ourselves with a small towel, paraded past a group of men in the lobby, and headed to the sauna for some serious sweating. This time the sauna was really hot, as most of the marble we were lying on was black. The flimsy towel did not do much to prevent our skin from nearly burning, so we quickly made use of the small marble sinks surrounding the room to douse ourselves in cool water.

After about half an hour, a woman arrived to escort us to another part of the building. Evidently, she was the mother of the man who had checked us in, and the family had been working at this hamam for close to fifty years. She took us up some marble steps, through some rooms and down some more marble steps to a small room full of steam. She instructed us to sit on a ledge next to another marble sink and disappeared.

Abby and I then waited. And waited. I was just about to start looking for soap and shampoo for a self-service bath, when she returned. She had on a pair of sheer underpants, several gold bangles, and nothing else. Abby enthusiastically (and loudly) noted, “Hey mom, she’s wearing old lady underwear,” as I had just explained to her the difference between briefs and bikini underwear a few days earlier. Now, I am not prudish in the least bit, but I will confess to being caught off guard by a nearly naked Turkish lady in a country where the women routinely wear headscarves and long coats, even in the dead of summer. She, however, was not at all concerned with the situation, and I decided to go with the flow.

The next order of business was a hair wash – with a bar of soap. She scrubbed the heck out of our hair and by the time she was done, we looked like we had bird’s nests on top of our heads. She then did the body scrub like we had had in Antalya. But, this time she meant business, using some sort of pumice glove on her hand. Indeed, this was no body “polish,” it was a scrub, and a serious one. She certainly did a number on me, that’s for sure. At one point Abby ran her finger over my back and said “Look mom, you’re bleeding”.

Next, she poured several cupfuls of water on the marble floor and covered it with a towel. I said to Abby, “Oh, she’s doing that so we don’t slip”. Wrong. She gestured for me to lie down on the floor. It was time for my massage. So down I went. More soap, then more, along with copious amounts of warm water. She lathered and kneaded my tired muscles with the strength of a gladiator. Occasionally, the marble floor was uncomfortable, but most of the time I didn’t notice. The lady had magical fingers.

Things got even more interesting when she flipped me over. She gave my uterus a thorough massage – seriously - and then went to work on my breasts. I was so startled I almost laughed out loud. One or two times her bangle caught on a nipple. No matter, she had a job to do. So, there I am lying on the floor in some basement bath house being pummeled by a naked Turkish woman. Once or twice she sort of tucked my hand into the rolls of fat on her belly (or was it her breast? I don’t know, I had my eyes closed) so that she could massage my arms. Oy vey. Finally, she straddled my back and washed my hair – this time with shampoo.

Now that’s what I call a Turkish bath. This gal put those fellas in Antalya to shame. Seriously, even though it got a little uncomfortable a couple of times, Abby and I loved this bath more than our first. The naked Turkish lady was sweet in a Nurse Ratched sort of way and we came out of there feeling fantastic. Now I’m wondering if I should take a chance on a third bath.

By Grayson

Turkish baths are wonderful. I was very lucky to be able to experience this magnificent massage. Our first Turkish bath was in Antalya. The Turkish bath house was 700 years old. Inside, we sat on a marble bench and sweated for half an hour. Then, the bath owner people came in and scrubbed us. By that time we were sweating like pigs. He scrubbed us free of dirt, grime, etc. Next, he massaged us with soap. He kept saying, “Is it hot in here?” And I said, “Yeah!” This was my first massage ever, and it was a great first time. Before we went inside the bath, we asked if it was a quick massage. The owners said, “No quick quick massage. Long long massage.”

Now we are in a town called Pamukkale. There is a 2000 year old antique Roman bath here. The bath takes its water in from a hot spring a couple of miles away. Before the bath, the water used to run over the side of the cliff, and make pools and calcium deposits. The cliff looks like a big pile of snow. Mom, Abby, and I hiked up through the water up to the top. We entered the pool, and put our stuff up in a locker. Abby tried to go in before us, but said, “Where’s your mama? You no have no mama, you no go in.” (His English was bad, but it was better than my Turkish.) We all went in the pool, and since I had the only goggles, I had to share with everyone to look at the ancient marble columns, bricks, etc.under water. But the good thing was that I got a brownie point for sharing my goggles. The water was very hot, about 90 degrees Fahrenheit. I felt very old swimming in a pool that Romans used to swim in. I wondered what it would be like if the whole pool was reconstructed. It must have been amazing.

Eating

By Grayson

The food here in Turkey is very good. On the way to Pamukkale, we stopped at a restaurant by the side of the road. I had “kofte”, a Turkish meatball type thing. We also had a big salad and pita bread. The waiter brought over some chili peppers. Dad had one and told me that it wasn’t very hot. So, I tried the whole thing. Oh, my, gosh. That chili pepper was the hottest thing that I have ever had. The waiter saw me in distress, and brought over a sugar cube. I popped it in my mouth, but it was supposed to be for tea, so my mouth got very sweet. So, I decided to eat my kofte and not try anything else.

Turkish Delight is delightful. The first one I tried was pistachio flavored. If someone doesn’t know what Turkish Delight is and looks like, it is sort of like a cinnamon roll, except that it is not cinnamon tasting, but chocolate tasting. The middle is like a marshmallow. The outside is covered with bits of pistachios. Very, very good. [Editor’s note: there are apparently many variations of Turkish Delight. The one Grayson likes is not the classic, but is equally widespread, and is also called Turkish Delight. Must be a marketing ploy of some sort. . . .]

By Christina

We have all thoroughly enjoyed two bread products (what a surprise) here in Turkey. One is a gozleme, a Turkish crepe/pancake that it cooked on a griddle, usually over an open fire. We have had both the savory type (spinach and cheese) and sweet (chocolate and banana) and like them both.

The other thing we like is pide, often listed as “Turkish pizza” on menus for dumb tourists like us. You can get a plain cheese version, one with cheese and veggies, or one with cheese and meat. This is a great alternative when you have had enough of kebobs or grilled meats which, believe it or not, one can tire of.

Finally, it is worth mentioning that we all have developed a taste for apple chai (tea), especially Abby, who can drink it by the gallon. It tastes like hot apple cider, so as the weather has started to turn cooler (in the last two days, it has been downright cold), we have especially enjoyed it.

The People

I would be remiss in not including a short mention of the Turkish people in this entry on Turkish Delights. By and large, the Turkish have been the nicest people we have encountered. (Okay, perhaps it is a tie with the Italians). But, here people have gone out of our way to take care of us. For example, there was a guy who noticed Abby was feeling a little sick on the bus ride from Olympos to Antalya. He returned from one of the bus’ pit stops with two bottled lemonades for the kids. There was also the taxi driver who brought us flashlights for our hike in the dark to see the Chimeara, knowing we would not know of the need for light. On the way home, he insisted that the kids sit in the front seat, so that he could pat their legs from time to time. He was a very sweet and gentle man.

Everyone is incredibly patient with our lack of Turkish and will wait for what feels like hours for us to decide what we want. Occasionally, they have agreed to alter a dish so that we (usually Abby) can have what she wants. Perhaps it is because we are traveling with children, our little ambassadors, that has a lot to do with it.

The Turkish are eager to talk about their country (as are most people in the world), but I love the sincerity of their patriotism, especially their love for the Father of their country, Mustafa Kemal, who I also admire quite a bit. I have seen two or three people nearly come to tears in talking about him and his contributions to this country. It is refreshing and sweet.