One of the reasons I love to travel is it allows me to constantly view the world with fresh eyes.
Familiarity has a tendency to erase the obvious; the world can lose its sparkle and become dull after a while.
Seeing different sights, hearing new languages, and walking upon new terrain keeps things fresh, so routine things are never really become routine.
Experiencing new cultures
Another reason I love to travel is to experience other cultures, like being in Oaxaca for Día de Muertos, or receiving a traditional Buddhist blessing in Cambodia, or just stuffing your face with the local cuisine.
Sometimes cultural experiences come by surprise and greet you when you least expect.
Other times they are a result of what is normally considered to be an everyday routine activity.
Pummeled in a Turkish Bath
My first serendipitous cultural experience in Turkey happened the first time I was in Istanbul in 1995. I was 27 at the time and a fellow traveller in the hostel declared he was going to a Turkish Bath He asked if I wanted to go along as his wing man.
I had no idea what I was getting into. I knew there was such thing as a Turkish Bath but had no clue what happens behind the hammams marbled walls. I was about to find out.
I came out of the carwash an hour later wondering what the hell just happened to me?
To start with I was instructed to remove all my clothes and to wrap my skinny ass in a towel – I walked into the first chamber and remember the humidity of the room hitting me.
Getting rather personal
I proceeded to be cooked in a steam bath and afterwards sprawled out on a marble slab. A fat hairy Turkish man proceeded to vigorously exfoliate me, getting rather intimate at times with the loofa that felt like 80 grit sandpaper.
After washing off in freezing cold water it was back to the slab for a soapy rub, I was lathered up with an olive oil soap and was given a good smack every once and a while just make sure I was not dozing off. The problem was my eyes were closed so not to get soap in them so I never knew when the next smack was coming!
Massage terrorism
Then came the “massage”……….. my massage terrorist put all 300 pounds behind his elbow to work out the knots – I thought I was going to be broken!
A good strong smack on the ass, meant it was time to hit the showers
I wasn’t sure if I if I had just got engaged or whether this was strictly a mugging.
On the way out of the hammam I remember the attendants standing at the exit waiting for a tip (or my phone number?) It found it to be a bit awkward.
I left feeling like a wet noodle, a very clean and most relaxed one at that.
It was an experience I have never forgotten. As they say you never learn anything significant at a picnic.
Fast forward 28 years to 2023 and I found my self back in Turkey.
I had not had a haircut for several months and Yvonne was getting on my case for my evolving Einstein mad professor look.
My eyebrows were looking like birds nests and there was a jungle growing out of my ears.
The folks we were housesitting for in Oludeniz Turkey had a recommendation for a good barber shop just a block from where we were staying.
I thought I was going in for just a trim – wrong!
That Turkish sales magic
The up sales started the moment I stepped foot into the establishment and before my ass hit the seat I was signed up for a shave and removal of any offensive hair located anywhere on my head in addition to the trim I had come for.
First we started off with the hair cut. My friendly barber was very good at asking exactly what I wanted and executed exactly to my specifications.
Sleepy time
After my trim it was time for a shave. He said it was “sleepy time”.
I had my head back against the chairs head rest and closed my eyes.
The shave employed multiple applications of hot towels, and multiple applications of shaving cream.
It was when the straight razor came out that the barber assured me that he was the best “butcher” in town.
I remained very, very still in the chair while he stretched my skin and gave me a very close shave with the blade.
The straight razor was followed by an electric razor, lotions, and astringents.
Then it was time for a face pack – this was a first for me.
Turkish pyrotechnics!
While the face pack was doing its magic – my barber declared that it was BBQ time.
In other words time for pyrotechnic hair removal!
My Turkish shaver proceeded to set fire to cotton wrapped on the end of a stick and proceeded set some offending hair on fire.
My eyes were closed at the time so I am not exactly sure what had just caught fire. But I could feel the flame brush my face and smell the products of combustion. As it turned out he burnt the hairs in my ears.
Next he had some sharp pointy scissors working the edges of my nostrils – again I remained very, very still.
The sink is built into the counter in front of the Barber chair, when it was time to wash my hair and remove the face pack I just leaned forward.
Pampering – Its a man’s world
After blow drying my hair I was treated to a head, neck, back, and arm massage.
Turkey is apparently a man’s world and the men get more pampering than the women in this establishment. Yvonne didn’t get a facial with her hair cut, no extras there.
I left the shop looking sharp and with my face feeling the most silky smooth since being a prepubescent boy.
I definitely had a fresh view of the world after my Turkish haircut.
