Just this week, the Boston Museum of Fine Arts agreed to repatriate the top half of a famous statue of Hercules to the Antalya museum, which houses the bottom half. As I was walking along the windy streets of the old town, full of local handicrafts, local art and tourist junk, I noticed a sign for a hamam, or Turkish bath. Further, what drew me to this particular hamam was that it had been there since As I walked into the hamam, I was greeted by the proprietor.
It was colorful, and the walls were adorned with various textiles from the area. As I looked at the price range, I was confident that I knew the drill from my prior experience.
He probably would have approved given that she is, after all, from the region. After I paid, I took my shoes off and was given plastic slippers and proceeded to the changing room. There, as in other hamams, they provide you with a towel [which more resembles a small table cloth] to cover yourself after you strip down. There was one other person in the changing room. As I was in mid-change, standing there in my birthday suit ready to put on the table cloth [red is not my color by the way], the man in the changing room approached me.
He was at least six feet four and in his twenties, and the dark, brooding, Turkish type. He came right up to me [remember I am still in my birthday suit] and gave me the traditional Turkish hello which is done somewhat like the European way of kissing twice, once on each side of the face, but instead of a kiss, it is a gentle head-but on each side of the head. I knew this from a prior experience in a shop so I was not alarmed. He expressed his disgust at what happened to the city on September 11, , and then proceeded to tell me that he was a commander in the Turkish Army.
He was so proud of that fact, that he took out his wallet to show me his military ID. I had nothing to show him, as I was still sans clothing. I had a little more conversation with him as I put on the table cloth, and we wished each other well and he left. I then proceeded to my next stop β the hot granite slab. I entered a room with a large circular heated granite slab in the center and was told to lay there and relax for ten minutes. The room was domed, and I was alone. I imagined it was the seventeenth century and I was stopping by on my way to meet up to the caravanserai in the Caucasus to join a long journey to Persia.
