Tortured at the local hammam
Trip Start
Feb 16, 2006
1
14
17
Trip End
Feb 28, 2006
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Marrakech,
Morocco
Monday, February 27, 2006
Marrakech - 5:00pm
Dear Readers:
These are the final hours of what, in retrospect, is a really awesome tour. Six of my clients departed at 7am this morning to drive over the High Atlas Mountains to see Ait ben Haddou-the place where so many movies have been filmed because of its awesome desert fortress appearance. It was once the set for Sodom and Gomorrah, so the client who spearheaded the organization of this side adventure is going to receive the "Pillar of Salt" Award tonight for being like Lot's wife in the Bible and having to take a look at Sodom and Gomorrah.
I meet with my supplier for most of the morning, and then retreat to my room to crank out the handwritten awards for this evening. At 1pm a client and I visit a local hammam for a complete treatment. For about $8.50 you get to subject your body to a car wash and tune-up.
We arrive with a towel, some soap and shampoo from the hotel, plus a change of underwear. Even though the hammam is for men only, the Moroccan men are very discrete and would never appear naked in front of each other. We wear our underwear throughout the torture session that is to come.
When we pay our entry fee, we are handed a mitten-like thing that is as rough as a pot scrubber, plus a small amount of a dark brown, tar-like substance that has an odd smell. It is what is used during the exfoliation process. We strip to our underwear and check our clothes and shoes, then are led by the dungeon master (let's call him Ahab-a swarthy, wiry old man) back into the torture chambers. They are three identical rooms with concrete floors, some tiling on the lower portions of the walls, and high vaulted ceilings with a couple of vents on the top to allow for air circulation. It is hot inside, but not as hot as a steam bath or a sauna. It seems clean enough.
Ahab doesn't speak French or English, and communicates with us with grunts and slaps and hand motions when it is time for us to get up, lie down, or roll over. The same man gives us the treatment, alternating between my client and me. Thank goodness, my client goes first so that I have a sneak preview of the pure hell that awaits.
Ahab fills two buckets with hot water and dumps one over each of us. He grunts for my companion to lie down on his back, and he proceeds to scrub him thoroughly with the Brillo pad, first on the front and then after a hard slap to the chest, on his back. I think, "Oh, that doesn't look so bad." But when it is my turn I have a quick change of heart. It is the most intense body scrub you can imagine, and even though it reaches the threshold of pain, Ahab goes quickly over each body part so it never becomes unendurable. The nearly unbearable pain comes later! (And for those who want to know everything-yes, Ahab lifts my underwear discretely and scrubs my lower abdomen and buttocks, but is careful to avoid all the sensitive bits.)
Another dousing with the bucket follows for each of us, then a shampoo using the product I brought from the hotel. Next we lie down in turn and each get a thorough soaping using a softer, fishnet type material to apply the bar of soap from the hotel.
Another rinse cycle.
Now comes the massage, and I am horrified when I witness what my client is put through. He is practically screaming in agony. It is not any kind of massage I have ever experienced before. It is more like a sadistic chiropractic session. The arms are twisted and contorted and stretched upwards. The abdomen is punched as though my client has gone into cardiac arrest and needs his heart jump-started. The upper thighs are slapped, and I mean hard. Ahab sees the look of horror on my face as he is giving my client the business, and with a smile and a nod that said "Watch this!" he spreads my client's legs so far he actually screams. "No way," I think, "am I going to have one of those massages!"
Ahab hits my client and rolls him over on his stomach, and stands over him pulling both of his arms straight up, backwards, at a 90-degree angle from his body. I know my arms aren't capable of such a range of motion. Next the little guy stands on my client's legs, just above his knees, and grabs his feet and bends them as far towards his butt as he can, as my client's back arches in agony. Then he grabs the feet and pushes toward the ceiling, bending the back as far as possible in the way it isn't used to bending. My client confesses later he is certain he will emerge with a sprain or a slipped disk.
Now it is my turn, and I wag my finger at Ahab and tell him he is an evil man and that he has to go easier on me. I ask my client to tell him to be gentle in French, and then I submit. The next few minutes are a blur in my mind. I remember screaming several times, and imagine the other men in the place are quite amused. I see now why they don't pay for the full treatment, but simply come in to scrub themselves.
Once Ahab finishes with me he refills the buckets with cold water and leaves us to consider our sorry state. I feel like I have been run through the ringer, a victim of a minor Jihad (holy war). I'm not even sure I can stand up. After about 15 minutes of decompression time, we finish with a cold-water splash and go up front to dress. As we are leaving, we call Ahab back up to the front and tip him generously. I depart, pretending to be limping and in crippling back pain, much to Ahab's delight.
Total elapsed time from departure to return to the hotel: one hour fifteen minutes. But I have to tell you, dear readers; I haven't felt this clean since my first trip to Morocco six years ago. My skin is smooth and glowing, and even though my previous hammam experience was not nearly so intense, I am certain the "massage" (torture) has been good for me too.
I will write again, if possible, after the Farewell Dinner.
Big hugs,
Dan
Comments
very funny
Dan, that is such an entertaining funny description. It's the first time I've read about men's experiences in the hammam; I think we get off lightly in the womens'section.