Hammam: When in Morocco...

After traveling for nearly twenty-four hours to get from Dallas to Marrakech, I was desperately seeking some rest and relaxation. I arrived at the hotel, the lovely Riad El Fenn, and immediately booked a hammam at the in-house spa. The spa menu describes the hammam as a "Moroccan soap full body scrubbing, clay application and traditional stretching." Umm, yes please - sign me up.

A typical hammam at a luxury spa, Marrakech, Morocco.

I arrive at the spa bright and early the next morning, eager to rid myself of travel grime with a relaxing bath and body scrub. My expectations for some R&R are shattered in an instant when the bath attendant escorts me into the hammam and instructs me to undress completely - right in front of her, as she stands watching impatiently. Hmm, this is new! Oh well, when in Marrakech, do as the Marrakechis do, right?

Even more surprising are the buckets - yes, buckets - of water that she quickly begins dumping on my head. After this waterboarding-like experience, the bath attendant barks at me to "lay down- I scrub!" This woman clearly means business, and I fear what could happen if I fail to obey. I dutifully lay on my back and watch the attendant put on rubber gloves and scoop a huge mound what appears to be mud into her hands. At this point, I seriously start to wonder what I have gotten myself into. However, I don't have time to plan my escape before she starts scrubbing me down. The intensity of the scrub reminds me of a furious attempt to clean dried oatmeal from a dirty dish. In this instance, my skin is the oatmeal. I feel like I've lost five pounds of dirt and grime (I wish.)

Once the bath attendant deems me properly clean, she motions for me to enter the tub of water. I'm expecting a nice hot bath. This is not to be had. The water was shockingly - and I mean shockingly - freezing. Surely there is a therapeutic rationale for the dunk in an ice bath, but this is where I draw the line. Hot buckets of water? Surprising, but actually rather pleasant. Getting scrubbed like a dirty dish? Again, surprisingly nice, somewhat similar to an intense massage with the added bonus of exfoliation. But an icy cold bath? No way. I jump out of the water and sit back down on the warm stone. The bath attendant just shrugs and dumps more hot buckets of water on me. When finished, she unceremoniously hands me my robe and tells me mint tea is waiting for me outside.

Well, there is certainly a first for everything.

Recovering from my hammam.