Essaouira Hammam – Uncomfortably Naked
My sadness and discomfort at the fish market put a damper on our Essaouira free day festivities. Fortunately, it was time to head to our hammam appointment and melt our troubles away. Except if you know me at all, you know that spas and fancy things make me uncomfortable. Ha ha!
The hammam our hotel recommended was definitely more of a Western spa experience than authentic Moroccan hammam. Ang and I had rooms to ourselves for traditional black soap scrubs and massages. Beldi (black) soap is made from olive oil and macerated olives. It's supposed to be high in vitamin E which is deeply moisturizing.
Okay, spas are super uncomfortable experiences. I don't get it! After arriving, it was time to change into weird, uncomfortable paper and string underwear, tie on a huge, heavy robe and waddle on foam flip-flops over to the steam room. In the steam room, it was time to strip down and flop onto a VERY HOT flat platform. I then had hot water poured from buckets all over me while I pondered where to stare for the least awkward eye contact. I was told to flip over (and almost flipped off the slippery platform) and was sloshed with water again.
Then it was time for the beldi which was rubbed all over my skin before I was told to relax in the steam for 10 minutes. Sounds nice, right? No. It was SO HOT in there and I thought I was going to die of heat exhaustion around the time I also realized I had to pee when I think we reached at least the half-hour mark waiting. While debating whether I should get up and find the washroom, the service provider returned with her scrubby glove called a kessa. The next step in the process is to use the kessa to scrub off the beldi and at least two or three layers of skin. She scrubbed the living bejesus out of my arm and then proceeded to show me the glove covered in black goop and blobs of my dead skin. I burst out laughing at the hilarious absurdity of it all before the rest of my skin almost everywhere (like EVERYWHERE) was scrubbed away. It wasn't painful or aggressive, just assertive. I don't think I enjoy having the skin from my boobs assertively scrubbed off.
Then it was time for a hair washing, which I liken to a mild form of water boarding. After asking me to sit up, freshly skinned tits wild and free, a bucket of water was poured over my head. And partially down my nose. Shampoo was assertively applied to my hair before many more buckets of water were poured over my head.
Asked to lie back in the soapy mess pooling around my butt, I was sloshed with a little more water and told again to relax. Fetched not too long after and donning robes, Ang and I were seated in a waiting area where I promptly slipped on the faux leather chair making a delightful wet fart-like noise and losing my paper undies up somewhere unspeakable because I am a graceful lady.
Given delicious verbena tea and set to waiting, I performed some sofa acrobatics to stay reclined before being taken into the massage room. If you know me at all, you know I don't like massages. I swear I'd rather speak in front of a crowd of 400 people or hold a couple of tarantulas over getting a massage. Okay I know there's something wrong with me, no need to shout!
I was given the choice between gentle, medium and hard massage. I chose medium-gentle because I've had bad experiences with overly aggressive masseurs leaving bruises and wussy masseurs with feather fingers. I'm pleased with my choice as Ang opted for hard and it wasn't long before I heard yelps of pain and protestation coming from the next table over.
Massage concluded, we were left to relax on our tables. Except my old friend the overly-full bladder was calling. Greasy and with wet hair dripping, I scuffled out in my flip-flops to find the washroom. After a detour into the staff room, I found it and was able to make my way back to the massage room where I stood awkwardly around wondering if I was supposed to get back on the table or high tail it out of there. As I was indecisively standing, clutching my robe closed, a member of staff came to usher me out and back to the locker room. Goodbye permanent paper wedgie, hello sliding everywhere in my real sandals on oiled feet!
I think the most relaxing part of the experience to me was leaving the spa doors to begin running around the town. I don't think Ang would agree as she continued to sigh with resplendent happiness for the remainder of the afternoon.
This hammam wasn't a bad spa experience, it just is not my cup of tea. Unlike that delicious verbena... definitely need to get more of that cup of tea.
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