Moroccan bath – the story of how I lost my dignity
So a few days back I went for a haircut and the lady at the Salon told me about a Moroccan bath. She mentioned that they massage you at the end and since my back is in desperate need of somebody rubbing out the knots in it I made an appointment for the Moroccan bath’s cheapest version.
“Hammam” is the Arabic word for a Moroccan bath. It’s quite a famous procedure in these parts. The bath includes a ton of very intense scrubbing and exfoliating of dead skin.
Upon arriving at the salon you are given a pair of disposable underwear that you change into. You step into the steam room and get rubbed with Moroccan bath soap.
I stayed in the steam room, my skin absorbing the content of the soap for 15- 20min. After this the lady came back in and told me to lie down on this ledge in the steam room. She scrubbed me neck to toes between 3 and 5 times each time removing more dead skin.
The washcloth they use feels like the softest kind of sandpaper, it’s quite rough on the skin, but you leave feeling super soft. After being scrubbed I was asked to step into the shower and wash off the dead skin cells.
The lady proceeded to wash my hair and my face. I haven’t had anybody wash me since I was 5years old; this was really weird for me, having somebody else to the washing part.
Unfortunately since I had opted for the cheapest version there was no massage included at the end. I was wrapped up in a towel and sent out of the steam room. I don’t think I’ll ever repeat this in a salon, but I might go to the gyms steam room and do a DIY version.