Elaina Goes to a Turkish Bath...and Second Base!

After a lot of convincing, I managed to get my friends to agree to go to a Turkish Bath. I didn’t really know much about it, but I’d heard it was one of those must-do things when you come to Istanbul, so I figured, why not?

We woke up early and grabbed a taxi to one that was close to our port. We walked down a weird alley and found the bath at the end of it. I mindlessly wandered into the first entrance door that I saw, looking for a reception area. Unfortunately, I can’t read Turkish. If I could, I probably would’ve known that the entrance that I went into said ‘Men Only.’  You’d think I’d have learned my lesson after the accidental men’s bathroom incident in Rome…but, apparently not.

 I peered around the corner of the main hallway hoping that someone official-lookinh would appear, but, sadly, no one did…so, I walked in a little further. ‘Elaina’s an Idiot’ Moment #32418. I found someone, alright. Peering back at me, in all his naked glory, was an old, wrinkly Turkish man with a big, creepy grin on his face. Suffice it to say, I’ve never run faster in my life. Call me crazy, but naked, old men just aren’t my thing. Especially that early in the morning.

As I was bolting out the door, one of the men that worked there, started running after me yelling, ‘No! No! Wrong room!’ No shit, Sherlock. I think I figured that one out already. He came out and pointed us in the direction of the women’s bath. When we went in, the nice little old lady told us that the best bath was the full service for 95 lira or 60 bucks. You got the bath, a scrub, and a massage. Okay, sounds good.
 
She led each of us to our own changing rooms…which were basically glass closets. I was shielded from seeing my friends…but my door and the entire front part of my room was all windows. So much for privacy. I asked the lady what I could keep on and she kept muttering, ‘Take it off. All off. Everything!’…Oh God..Everything?!...I mean, I’m comfortable with myself and all..but EVERYTHING!? Not happening. So I ignored the lady and kept my underwear on, secretly satisfied with myself for strategically picking a cute pair that morning.

I wrapped myself in the towel they’d given us and made my way into the lobby. We were led into the main bathing area, which was this huge marble room with colorful skylights and a big chandelier-type thing. Before I knew it, the bathing lady pulled the towel off of me, and there I was….in my birthday suit. Well, mostly. She directed us to the big marble platform and told us to lie down…face up. Greattt. As if being naked isn’t awkward enough, we all had to lie down next to each other, face up. It was at this point that I started wondering what I’d gotten us into.

After lying on the hot marble for 15 minutes, I heard the door open. In came the little old lady who had been behind the reception desk…and she, like us, was now naked. And holding a sponge and a bucket. Oh dear lord. They scrub and massage you while THEY’RE naked too!? Alright...maybe this wasn’t my best idea.

While my walk to the marble platform was more like an awkward walk of shame, my lady confidently strutted her stuff as she made her way to where I was lying. Then, she started scrubbing. And, boy, was she thorough…really thorough. As in, I definitely got felt up. A lot. And it didn’t help that throughout the whole awkward feel up, she kept muttering, ‘Is good for you?...You like?’ Who knew that getting groped by a naked 70 year old woman was included in the full service option? They really should advertise that more.

After my grope session was over, the lady led me to a fancy looking sink where she rinsed me off…aka threw buckets of water on me as I gasped for air. Then, it was back to the marble platform to get soaped up. During my soap scrub, we took another trip to second base, which was just as delightful as it had been the first time around. For a few brief moments, I tossed around the possibility that my lady swung for the other team…but then I realized the ridiculousness of such an idea. Do Turkish lesbians even exist? Surely not. How would they ever decide the number of wives that a Muslim lesbian was allowed to have? Way too complicated.

When my soap scrub was done, we headed back to the fancy sink for ‘let’s try to drown Elaina with buckets of water’ round 2.  It was swell.  After that, my lady washed my hair using only the finest Turkish products…Head and Shoulders, I believe it was. And then I got a complimentary hair-braiding after. I’m one lucky gal, eh?

All in all…an interesting experience, to say the least. FYI-I went back to the boat and promptly showered. More about Istanbul soon!