Travel

A Canadian Massage Therapist's Experience of a Massage in Turkey

by Aline Kidd, RMT

Editor's Note:

For readers who don't understand the source of our writer's shock click on this link to the College of Massage Therapists of Ontario Position Statement on Treatment of Sensitive Areas! Every country (every profession) has its own culture, and one can be in for a surprise if they make assumptions based on their own culture!

In October 2006 I spent a month in Turkey, visiting three main areas - Istanbul, the arid province of Cappadocia in the center of the country, and the southwest Mediterranean coast.

The country exceeded every expectation I had. I miss a lot of little things now that I'm home - the crowds, the overly helpful men in the markets, the wonderful little diners where they'd fill you with the world's best lentil soup and bread for 2 Lira; the 5:30am call to prayer that was just so soulful and beautiful and deeply spiritual; and the simple honesty of everything.

I visited bustling markets, palaces, mosques, ancient rock churches, beautiful canyons, valleys, deserts, forests, beaches, caves, many ruins and a very memorable Turkish bath.

As my trip to Turkey wound to a close, and to celebrate passing my CMTO OSCE Exams, I decided to investigate massage in other cultures by participating in a traditional Turkish bath in the trendy Sultanahmet district of Istanbul.

My mother and I entered the little Hamam (as they're called) on a Wednesday afternoon and were greeted by a nice, personable young woman who spoke good english. The brochure had described professional services and staff, and the photos portrayed happy clients comfortably wrapped in bathrobes.

The main room was like a little coffee room and was full of stubbly men playing poker and smoking cigars (yes!).  After paying the 30 Lira (about $25) price for a bath and massage, I was led to a small change room just off of the main coffee room, instructed to remove all my clothing, wrap myself in a teeny tiny towel, and don some killer pink rubber slippers.  I did so, taking a moment to laugh before I exited, knowing that on my way out I'd be parading in this teeny towel past this crowded table of smoking Turks. Ah, the difference in standards already!

As I left the change room and locked my clothes inside, I saw my Mom was still sitting at a table in the main room.  "You're not going shopping?" I asked, since that had been the plan.  She looked straight at me with steely eyes and said, "I'm NOT MOVING."  I wondered what the heck happened while I was changing. A shiver of fear ran through me as I semi-nakedly followed a woman through a door into the baths area. (I found out later that my Mom had seen one of the stubbly men going into the baths area and was worried that he would be doing my massage.)

I had promised myself that although I didn’t have even the slightest clue what the baths really entailed, that I would go with the flow and drink in the full experience. And did I ever!

I was led through a beautiful old series of marble bath and sauna rooms to a room with 3 sinks, where I was instructed to have a seat. 

Then, with no notice, I had a bowl of steaming hot water suddenly splashed onto my back.  Yipe!!!  What ever happened to informed consent?  But ok, it’s fine.  She poured several more bowls onto me - towel now soaked - and then handed the bowl to me and in broken English instructed me to wash, and in 5 minutes she'd do the massage.  Then she left the room.  I was already fully sopping wet, but for the sake of the experience I threw a few more bowls of water over myself.  Then my lady came and got me.

As we walked through more marble hallways, I glanced into some rooms - NO doors - and in one room I saw a naked woman prone on a slab.  That's when I realized that I was about to be the naked woman on a slab!

When we reached my room the woman took my towel off of me. It’s just lovely to stand naked as a jaybird in a steaming marble sauna.  I stood there FOREVER (ie 30 seconds) waiting for her to prep my slab before she instructed me to lie down on my stomach.

The bath consists of having water poured over you. Then they exfoliate, more water, then OODLES of foam, massage while the foam is on, and rinse.

It was a little weird being naked, but it was nice having the water poured and the exfoliation.  But then the massage started.  Let me tell you, there are no private body zones in a Turkish bath!!!! None! NONE!!!!!!!!!!!!  Well, apart from maybe... anus and labia (and those were just barely excluded!) The back massage included quite the roaming hands in my butt crack.  The leg massage went FULLY up the leg if you catch my drift.  I was face down so she couldn't see me, but holy hell was I trying hard not to crack up.  I kept thinking to myself, "Whoa with the hands. WHHOOOAAA with the hands!! Hands! Hands! HANDS!!"

Now I'll be absolutely 100% clear that I was in no way sexually molested at this hamam, but I WILL say that there was some very intimate grazing!  I was actually more concerned about her long nails and the fact that she wasn't letting up the pressure over my popliteal fossa.

I still couldn't help but wonder if I'd accidentally wandered into a well-disguised brothel of some kind.  But in keeping with my original adventurous plan, I decided to let her do whatever she would normally do, not saying a word, and if or when I felt violated in any way I'd ask her to stop - I never had to ask her to stop, thankfully, although I'm still impressed that I didn't bust up laughing.

The massage itself was atrocious, and I’m usually a person who says “All massage is good massage.” She poked, pinched, prodded, and pulled like it was going out of style.  It was dreadful! I was not relaxed at all, and not just because I was gearing up for potential inappropriate groping.

She finally finished rinsing my back and I thought, at last!  Thank god! The enriching cultural experience is over! I can't wait to tell people about this!  But then she says, "Ok, turn over."

You want me to what?  Oh shitballs! There's a full frontal!!!

But I stuck to my original philosophy, laughed internally, flipped over, and steeled myself up once again to cry foul if needed.  Now, you have to picture it... I’m stark naked, face up on this slab, soaked, at the mercy of this Turkish woman, trying as hard as humanly possible not to laugh.  And so ensued a further scrubbing, massaging JUST within the borders of me not freaking out, and a full breast and stomach massage.  And not the uber-professional breast massages of the wonderful land of Ontario, but this was verging on sensual massage in terms of technique.  SHE TOUCHED MY NIPPLES, PEOPLE!!!!  

All while I'm lathered with inches of foam!  Oh god I'm almost wishing there had been a secret video camera or something so I could experience the comedy of this again and again.

As I lay there waiting for it to end, I kept thinking, “Ok, I get it!  Informed consent is important!  Draping is important!”  I’ll never ever forget this lesson. Also, I always knew the importance of anatomy education, but her poking, digging hands really hammered that lesson home in a new way.

Finally it was over.  She asked me to sit up on my slab so she could dump a few more bowls of water over me.  Then she offered a shampoo which I declined!  I'm all for immersing myself in the experience, but I don't think a bonus naked shampoo is required after a full-body naked scrubbing. Thankfully the entire thing only lasted about 25 minutes.

I was then wrapped conservatively (really! In about 3 large sarong- type garments) and trucked back out past the 16 smoking men to my waiting mother. I dressed, left the building, and finally got to bust up laughing.  My mom said, "Oh dear, break it to me easy kid."

All I have to say is God bless the Turks.  And God bless our Code of Ethics and Standards of Practice!!!

Biography: 

Aline Kidd is a 26-year-old RMT at Myodynamics Massage Therapy Clinic in Ottawa. She enjoys traveling, bikram yoga, coincidence, and hugging trees. This was her first time visiting the Middle East.