www.weather-proof.com

When in Turkey, a Turkish bath.

For women prayed, we traverse a vast marble hall filled with men wearing white towels. They are lying in lawn chairs, smoking Turkish cigarettes slowly stronger. My eyes follow the spirals that rise and hide the impressive marble ceiling dome above us. Men still visible? I wonder.

My guide, Ziya, leaves me in women. The supervisor left me in the locker room, give me a key, and a series of gestures, encouraged me to undress and bathe in the room. In the closet I find a towel. Yes, a dish towel. I wrap around my body.

My first shock in the room. Women have a towel wrapped around his waist. I look around the room.

I ooh and ah over the semicircle of marble sinks mounted on the walls. Accompanying gestures and I understand that I am washing before soaking in hot baths.

My second surprise came in the bathroom. The tea towels left in the lurch. My panties are safe in the closet. I leave my towel around the pool of hot water into marble. Nude! Now, I’m naked, but I’ve never felt as naked as the room full of women with panties. I slide the edge and marble sink in the water as fast as possible. I hope I managed to get something to maintain decorum.

The women are friendly and invited me, with gestures that are incredibly easy to understand, in the hot smaller pool is good for joint pain.
Now the massage. The masseuse was a genius in my kind of sandpaper products from head to toe with huge soft gloves, torture marbleized. All in Turkey is marble. The delicious smell of soap envelops me. The masseuse hits me in the back with the palm of your hand, turn signal. I’m lying on a slab of marble. I slide like a wet fish. The woman laughed. I hear the word Canada on several occasions between laughter.

Freed at last by the masseuse, I tip generously, and his escape to the locker room. I feel like a rag doll, loose and boneless, beautifully scented and more feminine than ever thought possible. I have seen a languid wave goodbye to the supervisor of the office, and slide down the marble floor between the rows of men smoking Ziya in the lobby.