Turkish bath

Warning: This post contains slightly embarrassing situations. Proceed with caution.

A nagging curiosity got the better of me, so I decided to put aside all of my American modesty and went to a Turkish bath. Every guide book and internet site declared that in order to get a true Turkish experience, you have to go to a hamami. For the most part, I am all for cultural immersion, and thought, 'though it may be awkward, this place is not going to kill me, so why avoid it?'. Therefore, I summoned up the courage and went.
A little bit of background first: Turkish baths are centuries-old institutions, and the particular bath that I chose was built in the 1400's. They can be compared to American spas (which was the appeal for me), because you can get manicures, pedicures, massages, and haircuts for cheap prices. Plus, they provide a relaxing atmosphere because they are architectural marvels that exude Ottoman charm and beauty. For Ottoman women, baths were a hub of social activity, because the hamami was often the only place that they were allowed to go outside of the house. There they could sit around and bathe, and chat with other women as a break from their seclusion within the home.
As I stood at the entrance, thinking about which treatment to get, I decided to go all out and get everything. Meanwhile, I prepared for the AWKWARD. Why, you ask? I was afraid that I would have to go the full monty. I soon learned that traditionally people bathed in the nude, but the major hamamis now provide bathers with special bikinis to wear (though many women decide to go topless). The baths are also gender segregated, preventing further awkward situations.
So I changed, and entered into the main bathing room, which is a domed heated chamber lit by skylights with hot water spigots all around. In the middle of the room is a circular stone slab that fit two dozen women lying down, as if sunbathing. A burly Eastern European woman, let's call her Brunehilda, came out of an adjacent chamber and barked at me to stretch out on the slab. Afraid to cross her, I scrambled onto the stone.
Then she started hurling buckets of hot water at me. I was trying so hard not to laugh at the oddity of this situation. Then she started slathering me with bubble bath foam and let me sit and soak. After a few minutes she came back and manhandled me until I was sitting upright, and then she dumped a bucket of hot water on my head. She was so scary! When my treatment was finally over, she led me to a warm pool where I was able to relax with some German women who were all topless and saggy (not a pretty picture), and then I had an amazing massage (not from Brunehilda). Later I dried off in a common room, surrounded by other women drinking tea or coffee, and reading or chatting with friends.
The experience is not one that I would recommend for the self-conscious and/or modest. It's an unholy cross between a nude beach and a spa, and the only way I was able to do it was to put all of my cultural inhibitions aside, and just go with the flow. I left feeling refreshed and glad that I braved the hamami, that although strange, did not kill me.