Local Hammam, A Real Moroccan Experience

Yesterday, I was scrubbed like a pot.

Seriously, I think that hand mitt scrubber was originally designed for removing caked-on grease better than Palmolive! It certainly removed my skin in rolls like little bits of rice stuck to the bottom of a pan.

A hammam is a public bath. In the days before running water, they were necessities for hygiene. Today, they are still important social places, especially for women, who spend most of their time at home. But I got the impression that, running water or no, these women still come to the hammam for their weekly bath.

Women may cover themselves in public, but among other women, they have no Western squeamishness. The four other girls and I were taken to a room where we stripped to our undies--no bras allowed!--then walked into a steamy room. It was filled with Moroccan women, some completely nude, scrubbing themselves while sitting on small stools, most just wearing underwear. There was so much flesh! More than I have ever seen, even on the beach in San Sebastian where some European women sunbathed topless.

A buxom women (I truly have never seen such a large chest!), who clearly had spent most of her time in the hammam and without the support of a bra, came and motioned for us to sit down in a corner of the room. She spoke no English, and only one of our group spoke French, but mostly we managed with gestures. She brought a large bucket of warm water, and splashed us down. Then we lathered up with some black olive soup we had been given when we entered. After steaming for about fifteen minutes, opening up the pores, we were taken to another room, told to lie on plastic mats. That's when the scrubbing began, or what they rather optimistically call a "massage."

They scrubbed everywhere: chest, arms, face, back, legs, pushing and pulling underwear--you almost wondered why they didn't just make you take that off, too! Afterwards, my skin was glowing and soft as a baby's bum.

Next they tied us in knots. Arms across chest, and PULL! Legs pressed to chest and PUSH! I didn't feel any bones cracking. I didn't feel more loosened, either. I was just glad to be in one piece at the end.

The ladies got quite a kick out of us. Our squeamishness, refusing to remove bras, grimaces of pain at the scrubbing. The lady certainly had no problem with full-body contact, bracing my hand between her breast and armpit as she scrubbed.

The other local women looked at us with interest, but they were all intent on their own ablutions. Washing hair, brushing teeth. Little girls walked around hand-in-hand, completely nude, or sat on benches as their mothers ran combs through their hair.

When we went back out to change into our clothes, the air was cold! Quickly into dry clothes and out into the cold air with wet hair. Too bad I wasn't covering my head with a scarf!

There are expensive tourist hammams with saunas, western-style massages, and quite a bit less flesh, but this local experience was something I wouldn't have missed for the world. Still, I was glad to have a group girls to share it with--and laugh about it afterward.