The Hammam

While I was away, I mentioned having a hammam. This is a Moroccan tradition that I don't think exists anywhere in the U.S., except perhaps in private homes. It's a type of spa treatment, I suppose, but apparently it is also a kind of socializing, which seems weird. I guess Western women are modest in sort of a superficial way; in Morocco, it isn't odd to have someone wash you, or at least sit around naked with a bunch of other women while you wait for your scrubbing. I had a private hammam and I was glad I did. The underwear I mentioned having broken last week was the craziest tiny piece of paper with something like dental floss on the sides. It was so small that I had to turn it several different ways to figure out how it was supposed to go on. When I tried to tie it, the "dental floss" broke, leaving a piece of paper hanging between my legs. At least I had a nice plush robe to put over it before I left the dressing room

My "scrubber" (I'm sure there is a name for someone who does that, but I don't know what it is) led me down several flights of stairs into a dimly lit -- with gorgeous Moroccan laterns -- waiting area. I lounged there while she turned on the steam in a different room. (I'm not claiming that everyone's hammam experience will be like mine, only describing what it was like for me.) The steam was the only bad part. She said she would be back in five minutes -- at least I think that's what she said. She didn't speak much English and I knew about two words of Moroccan Arabic -- but it seemed like an eternity. One of my panic triggers/symptoms is feeling like I can't breathe, and the steam was so thick I thought I would have to run out of the room. I kept reminding myself the rest of the experience would be awesome and Afif (I think that was her name) would be in to get me soon. I survived, and was led into a different room, where my robe was taken away and I was lying on a table, naked except for the strip of paper.

The black soap used in the process is some kind of sticky substance that works with the steam to release toxins and exfoliate dead skin. I was washed all over with it on my front, rolled over and washed on my back, and then scrubbed with a special brush. I'm probably making it sound horrible, but it wasn't. After I had been exfoliated, I was washed from head to toe -- including my hair -- sitting naked on the table. I'm glad I did it, but I was also glad when it was over. I felt like a little kid sitting there being washed, which wasn't entirely unpleasant. Afterwards, I was wrapped in several towels, put back in the lounge to relax, then led back upstairs to be rubbed down with argan oil. My skin felt like velvet!

According to my guide, this is something Moroccans (both men and women) engage in at least once per week. If it were available to me here, I would probably do it once a month, maybe more. It wasn't very expensive and felt (for the most part) very indulgent. I brought some black soap home with me, but I don't think I'll do as well "hammam-ing" myself.