A weekly ritual for the Moroccans is to make a visit to a hammam, their version of a bath house but much much different. The genders are separated of course and they immediately ask you to take your clothes off. Men must leave their skivvies on and women are given the option to go naked, which is surprising considering many are so covered up in public that you can’t even see their eyes. Once freed of your clothes the attendant leads you through a series of rooms then instructs you to sit on the bare wet floor with other bathers. They grab 3 buckets of varying water; scalding hot, hot, and bareable and with a scrubby exfoliating mitt start rubbing your skin away. For me it felt like a good scratching but Steve said his experience was excruciatingly painful. Then they pull you to lay on the floor for your ALL over body scrub.

The lady that was attending to me only had underwear on and laid my head in her lap. After a bit I got to understand that a slap on the stomach was to turn to face down and a slap on the buttock was to flip over to the front. Then she dowsed a bucket of water over my head. Surprising how much hotter water is when someone else is throwing it on you. That was followed by the soaping. The most awkward moment wasn’t when she moved my undies aside to get EVERYwhere, but when she held my arm outstretched to sud my side and my hand was helplessly playing patty cake with her breasts. She didn’t blink an eye and just finished rubbing nonchalantly. During this whole time the other women are alternating scrubbing each other not a bit shy about staring at the foreigner being pushed around like a rag doll. It was such an odd situation that I had to laugh now and then.

Apparently for the men they stretch you like they’re wringing out a wet towel and punch you a few times before scrubbing you pink and telling you to leave.

It’s typical for Moroccans to bathe in hammams for 2hrs. Entrance is $5 and the “massage” is $2. There are nicer pricier ones in hotels but we wanted to go to a local one first. The sanitation was not even questionable because there was no doubt that it wasn’t, but I got used to it after a few buckets of wood heated water. It felt good walking out of there but we immediately went back to the hotel to take a shower. Hey, we’re tourists.