Slow Progression of Heat.

I feel the need to do it occasionally. It can be because the cold has got in my bones, or also because Texas is in my bones and it has been too long since I felt that true heat.

It is best to go on a day when I have bathed before bed the night before, and my hair is dry and clean. I head out in the morning as soon as I can after my "have tos" are done.

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I take the tram or bus into the zentrum and hike into the Niederdorf, to the Fitnesspark. The woman at the desk raises her eyebrows, and I say "Hamam." I pay and she hands me a key. Beside the desk is a metal rack with many large plaid flat-weave cotton towels. I take one.

I enter the women's locker room, and find an empty locker. I remove my shoes and all my clothes, and wrap the hamam towel around me. It makes a sheath that covers me, cleavage to knees. I put my hair up, and walk over to the showers. There are usually a few other women in the locker room. We are all courteous to each other, but definitely not chatty. At the shower stall I hang my towel on a hook. I set the temp for mid warm and push a button which provides a 45 second rinse. I step out and re-wrap myself in the towel without otherwise drying.

I exit the women's locker room, dripping. I walk down a flight of stairs. At the landing mid-way down and continuing on each step of the lower set of stairs, someone has strewn rose or lavender petals along edges. Nice. I nod and smile to the female attendant behind the refreshments desk, and she does the same back to me. If I have one with me, I ask her to place my paperback up on one of the glass shelves behind her. She is in her early twenties and is wearing a white tank top and a mid-thigh fringed wrap skirt in a plaid similar to my towel. There are three or four others like her attending to various chores in these rooms.

Against the wall is a heavy wooden table. Stacked upon it are forty or so slightly ornate silver metal bowls. In a large wooden bucket beside them is a pile of freshly laundered rough-woven unbleached cotton hand cloths. I take a bowl and two cloths and open the door just beyond the table.

I enter a room filled with steam. The warm room. The heat emanating from the tiles is wonderful on my bare feet. The room is about ten by five meters, with bench seating all around its perimeter. Along the walls at even intervals are about 5 water spouts with huge copper bowls, which sit upon the benches. There are a few other men or women in the room as well, sitting up against the wall, or stretched out on the benches, or sitting quietly and talking two by two, or otherwise attending to their own ritual at one of the copper bowls. Everyone is wrapped in the plaid towels, women cleavage to knees, and men at the waist. If someone is right beside you speaking to you, you can hear and understand them. Otherwise all the noise are only echos of voices and water.

There are a few traditional steps common for hamam, and one can do research and find them, or ask for a map and instructions from the staff. But if you go once or twice you grow to realize that it is personal, and different for everyone, so you adapt the routine that makes the most sense for yourself. Everyone does.

I choose a seat beside one of the copper bowl in the least crowded area. I turn on the tap and adjust the temperature for as hot as I believe I can stand. I plug the drain the the black rubber stopper and wait a few moments, adjusting to the warmth of the room. With luck by now I am beginning to truly sweat. There are two large steam generators in the middle of the room, on top of which there are wire baskets full of petals. The aroma is spicy and floral.

I stop the water at three quarters full. I have set my hand cloths aside and for now I simply use the bowl. I dip it in the warm water and bring it out. I place the bowl's edge against my chest and tip it toward me. The water spills out over my skin and the towel, soaking both. I do the same now against my belly, one leg, then the other. I stretch my arm out and soak it, and then the other. I perform the challenging maneuver of soaking my back in this same fashion, without wetting my hair. All of this is done at a slow pace over about 5 or 7 minutes, with some waiting in between. I am gently rinsing away my perspiration as it appears. Finally I pull the plug and sit back. I will stay in the warm room for about altogether for twenty-five minutes.

When I am ready I enter the next door, the women's bathing area. (Traditionally, the sexes are in separate areas in the hamam. But this is Europe, and no one cares, so the main large rooms of the hamam are for both men and women. It is only a smaller room where there is the option for women to remain separate, which I do.)

As in each room here, the lighting is dim, and every surface is tiled: black, brown and white in Moorish patterns. The space is about five by five meters in size. There is a small neck-deep pool in the center, and benches and copper bowled taps in the edges. I enter another closet sized room on the left where there is another copper bowled tap. I turn on the water, adjusted to as warm as possible, plug the drain, remove my hamam towel, and place it on the hook. While the copper bowl fills I use the silver bowl to re-wet my limbs and torso. I take each of the glove-like hand cloths, one per hand, and firmly stroke my skin, which reddens. I work from the outer reaches toward the heart. This removes the residue of my perspiration and likely some outer skin. Once the copper bowl is three quarters full I stop the water and use the silver bowl to rinse. I wrap the hamam towel around me again and step out and into the pool. There are candles burning and flickering in two large metal lamps hanging down from the ceiling.



Since coming in to the hamam I have been experiencing temperatures starting around 103 degrees Fahrenheit. In each successive room the temperature increases. The water in the pool is quite warm, but it seems to be the same temperature as my skin. As I step in, my towel floats and clings around me. I go to the side, face outward and rest my arms on the edge, eyes closed. I will stay here, floating and sinking, for about fifteen minutes. When I am ready, I step out of the pool and out of the door and back into the warm room. I may stay there a minute or two, until I feel sure am warm enough to go on to the hot room.

I walk through the large main rooms toward the hot room. Once inside, the steam is thick and the heat hits my sinuses immediately. It smells wonderful. This room is again about five by five meters, but the ceiling is very low, and there are no taps, only concrete and tiled slab benches where people may sit or lay, and sweat. The temperature is around 117 degrees Fahrenheit. I find a seat near the steam generator and try to assume a Tara-esque, crossed leg position, a serene mental picture, and then to maintain. I usually stay in the hot room about 7 minutes. It is not wise to push your boundaries in this room.

As I leave this room, I pass shower stalls in each side of the corridor. Some bathers will do a bracing cold rinse at this point. That sounds dangerous to me. I make the water warm and have a rinse. The idea in my ritual is: slowly heat up, slowly cool down. Nothing too sudden or "bracing".

I go back into the women's area where there is another closet sized room, like the other one, except this one has a wooden bucket, where I drop my hand cloths, and soap dispenser. Remove towel, get soap, lather up, rinse. Re-wrap.

In the center of the rooms there is an large open space, and in the middle of that there is a large round black stone slab. I go and lay upon it, back down, using my overturned bowl as a pillow, for about twenty minutes.

Throughout all these rooms I from time to time hydrate myself by cupping my palms under the tap and taking a cool drink. I do this now. I get up from the slab and go back more or less to where I started, where the bowls are. I deposit mine there and put on one of the robes from on the racks. I discretely remove my hamam towel and deposit it, tie up my robe and ask for my book. I walk into the lounge.

The room is large and there are wide wooden platforms around the perimeter. Wooden columns rise up to support the second level, the floor of which creates shade and a sort of intimacy on the platforms below. The center of the room is open to the ceiling, from which candle-lit lamps hang. We all nap or read or otherwise sit and allow our bodies to regain a normal temperature. How long I stay here depends on the time allowed in the day, usually about thirty minutes. I sweat still, but I smell like flowers and sea salt. Finally I must walk back up to the locker room, put on street clothes again, and go on about my day.

I leave feeling as though my skin has been refitted to my frame. My sinuses are crystal clear. I have a natural blush and more length in my spine and a happy, easy grin that can last for hours or even days.