Bathing Culture

Connecting with my ancestors (and a friend) in the heat of a hammam.

“This Finnish girl is ok with it, but it may be a lot to go from Zoom to naked lol” Saga joked via text as we confirmed our first, real-life visit. One thing Saga and I have deeply in common is the comfort we have in the non-American ease of going nude. 

Saga, a new friend of mine, (who was also featured in this past letter) was planning a trip to DC a few months ago, and through a flurry of excited texts, we discovered that we both had a strong urge to visit a bathhouse. Neither of us had gone to one before, but it suddenly was the only option for our friend date. Coincidentally, I had been researching bathhouses since my trip to Israel this past October, a desire to explore another part of my Sephardic-Turkish heritage sparked. 

The idea of third spaces in relationship with well-being has been on my mind a lot lately, and it seems to be popping up everywhere. I have been craving spaces that feel communal but don’t force me to have to “be” anything in particular. I might be an outlier in this thinking, but sometimes it feels repetitive to go out to dinner or drinks. Don’t get me wrong, I love dining out. But this new version of Maya desires more third spaces—a place that we can gather that offers flexibility in its walls. A space that doesn’t dictate exactly how we interact with it, but rather suggests it. With a traditional hammam, patrons can soak in a bath, sit in steam, or choose a service. It can be social or solitary. It’s a space that allows the user to choose their adventure, and this is likely why the bathhouse intrigues me so much. 

In today’s world, where I (and I suspect many of you) are craving real-life connection—but also a softness in being—are bathhouses perhaps the perfect third space? 

I was thinking about this as I settled into the Moroccan hammam, face down and naked atop a slat of marble. A hand towel was carefully draped over my bum. There was the faint sound of water dripping from the shower head positioned by my feet. As my body temperature rose with the heat of the room, I began to sweat, my pores opening and softening with each passing minute. I looked over at Saga and we giggled, discussing the hilarity of our chosen setting for our first friend date.

“I’m surprised there isn’t a bigger bathing culture here,” Saga remarked. “Here” being America. I nodded in wistful agreement. Saga is Finnish and grew up within a lifestyle that is heavily rooted in the sauna. I myself have a deep affinity for saunas, and try to get to one at least monthly (I wish it was daily). All around the world, there’s a history of cleansing in community. The Russians have the banyas, Nordics use the sauna, Turkish and Moroccans scrub down in the hammam, and the Japanese have onsens. The ancient Romans centered culture around their bathhouses. Here in America, there are natural springs dotted throughout the country that once used to be popular gathering spots. When I was in San Francisco a few weeks ago, you might recall that I was delighted to learn of the once-thriving Sutro Baths. 

While visiting Akko a few months ago, my family and I journeyed through the ruins of a large Turkish bathhouse. The stories of the hammam were depicted through dramatized videos and statues of patrons and therapists throughout the space. Tools were displayed, and the offerings that used to exist for the community in the hammam were listed on plaques. Things like massages, scrubs, and even a shave or haircut were available. I was captivated.

“You know, your grandmother used to go to the hammam every Sunday in Jerusalem.” My aunt said as we exited the lobby. A security guard sat at his station, the call to prayer and services crackling into the room through a mini television set. The hammam we had just walked through used to be the center of civilization back in the day for the residents of Akko. The hammam was a true third space–a place that provided community, wellness, and well-being. 

During that same trip, I joined my cousin Yuval and a small group of women in our family to go to the mikveh in advance of her wedding. A mikveh is a bath where certain Jewish rituals and cleansing take place. We gathered in a small room outside of the bath, sitting on plastic chairs, where we joyfully sang traditional prayers. Yuval went into the mikveh, immersing herself fully to prepare and cleanse her body for her wedding the next day. We threw candies into the air as she exited the bath, encircling her with cheering and dancing (much to her embarrassment). The sound of ululations filled the room– a group of proud Sephardic and Ashkenazi women honoring the paths of their mothers before them. 

Back in the hammam, while two women scrubbed vigorously at our backs, I couldn’t help but recall this visit to Israel, channeling my grandmother's ancestry into this experience. My heritage is steeped in bathing culture. I imagined all of my ancestral mothers enjoying this same treatment, listening to and telling stories within their community, navigating their lives from the tiled floors of a bathhouse. 

A Moroccan clay mask infused with rose water was applied to all parts of our bodies, and our scalps were shampooed and massaged thoroughly. Argan oil replaced the mask, and I laid face up in complete bliss. I felt like a goddess. I was recharged. After a final hot shower, I secured my robe around my body, rebirthed with buttery soft skin. 

In a darkened room that felt like a womb with its soft seating and ornate lamps, Saga and I were presented with a tray of home-baked Moroccan cookies and hot tea. We reflected on our experience at the hammam, elated and scheming about when we could visit again.

This was a ritual I could get behind doing more often. 

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Some additional tidbits on bathing culture:

This piece by The Standard that explores different world bathing cultures.

This article on the history of ancient bathhouses.

Just because I love this brand and writing this piece reminded me of it 🙃.

My research on bathhouses led me to some really cool places that are cropping up around the nation and world. In fact, for my birthday next week, I plan to celebrate with a visit to Bathhouse in Brooklyn. I’ll add these spaces to my Everything List as I experience them!