Authentic Moroccan Cous Cous
This is my first post, so I welcome you to the crazy world that is Morocco.
Last night was my first experience at the public bath houses, also known here as the “hammam.” My host family has a working hot water shower, so I have been enjoying that thoroughly (most of my compatriots do not have this luxury). I thought it was high time that I tried out this staple of Moroccan culture and visit the hammam and see what all the fuss is about. I got all of my belongings together: a scrubber, a towel, a bucket to pour water all over myself, flip flops, and an open mind. I entered the bath house, paid the 8 dirham fee and got naked save a pair of flimsy boxers. It was time to get wet.
My friends had to inform me of the complex culture of the hammam. You scope out an unclaimed corner and move first to the hottest room. It is comparable to a sauna. One must fill the bucket, pour some on the ground to sanitize the space, sit down, and begin the scrubbing. The scrubber is a brillo-like pad, and it is very normal to have your friends scrub you everywhere. We of course did this. Then, the shampoo and bodywash application takes place, just like a normal bath or shower. Fill the bucket, pour it all over yourself, and enjoy the heat. Bask in the glory of the hammam for as long as you would like to. Moroccans usually go to the hammam once a week, but since I am an every-two-days showerer here, I was more there for the experience than the actual feeling of being clean (let it be known that I felt infinitely more dirty upon exiting). After the hottest room, you move onto the slightly colder room and apply cold water to your body, again in the form of pouring huge buckets over your head. It was extremely refreshing, but I couldn’t help feeling that the water was recycled and that I was pouring the filth of everybody else all over me.
Afterward, you move onto the dry room. This is where people dry off and bro-out, talking about how awesome the hammam is. Men with thick mustaches and solemn faces sit and sit and sit. It is normal to be in the hammam for three hours. Me, I was satisfied after about twenty minutes. Will I go back? Never.
I then enjoyed a heary bowl of harrira (traditional Moroccan soup that I had every single day of Ramadan) and a juicy pomegranate. I really wanted to shower again.
Our team had a good chuckle at this post. It has to be the weirdest description of a hammam we have ever seen. ! First it is not like a sauna in any respect ( One of us is a Finn and fell over when she read that). Second, that the poor victim did not feel cleaner after being scrubbed is amazing. The sensation of clean skins scrubbed with a hammam glove and olive oil soap (yes, it does look like axle grease!) leaves you feeling cleaner than you ever have been in your life. The glow is wonderful. Also, after the scrubbing and washing with clean water (not recycled) – the massage takes place. Wonderful. It is also a great social experience and a place to catch up on the gossip.
Best advice? Read, this, chuckle to yourself… and then go have a hammam.
Cheers
The View from Fez Team
Perhaps I went about it wrong, nor did I have the luxury of the olive oil soap (which I actually thought was some sort of jelly at first), but a hammam “leaving you cleaner than you ever have been in your life?” That’s definitely debatable. Maybe it’s that I am an American used to solitary showers and that the whole concept of communal bathing was something of a turn-off in the first place. Still, a lot of Moroccans I have come into contact with prefer the luxury of a private shower if they have access to it.
I hope this post wasn’t taken too seriously (just look at the title). It was meant to be a satire on the whole experience with some facts and experiences blown out of proportion (saunas are dry, hammams are wet). I am happy that you got a laugh, though. Maybe I’ll just have to do the hammam right next time, if there be a next time.
My condolences to the entire nation of Finland and its unfortunate sauna competition finalist.
-Ethan Harfenist