The history of the hammam dates back as far as 2500 BCE. In Turkish culture, the hammam ritual holds deep significance—offering both physical and spiritual purification. It usually takes place in an environment filled with warmth and steam, and it consists of several stages: sweating, exfoliation with a kese (a scrubbing mitt), and a foamy massage. These are followed by rest and socializing.
The hammam helps remove dead skin cells, boosts blood circulation, relaxes muscles, and calms the mind. Technically, this description suffices. But when you dive into its cultural depth, the hammam reveals itself to be so much more.
The hammam embodies social equality. Everyone wears similar pestemals (traditional towels), and status fades away. It's also a space for connection—especially among women, who gather to talk and enjoy each other’s company.
In Türkiye, special celebrations often take place in hammams, like bridal baths (“gelin hamamı”) or postnatal baths (“loğusa hamamı”). The bridal bath turns the hammam into a festival-like space—women bringing food, tambourines, and laughter. Even before dating apps like Tinder, elders attending these baths would take notice of potential brides for their sons!
Hammams served as social hubs in earlier times—places where people shared stories and stayed connected. And of course, the cleansing aspect remains essential. Heat, steam, and scrubbing purify the body, while the rituals ease the mind. It was common to say "may it bring healing" to those leaving the hammam. A typical session would end with a refreshing cold soda, sipped while sitting on the hot stone.
A Personal Memory
Throughout my childhood, I was part of this ritual. My mother and I had regular hammam days. I knew everyone who worked there, and they knew me—the little guest of the hammam, always treated like a princess.
Upon entering, we were greeted by the comforting scent of wood. In our private cabin, we changed and wrapped ourselves in pestemals. We gradually moved through each section to get used to the heat. I sat next to an empty wash basin and watched it slowly fill up, then splashed and played with the water.
Women of all ages were present. If an older woman was nearby, my mother would gently help scrub her back—or ask me to do it. Although I didn’t understand the meaning at the time, it was such a tender gesture of sharing.
After that, we continued with exfoliation and the foam massage. My favorite part? Sliding across the foamy marble with my little body—a perk of being small! The attendant helped me glide, and I laughed with joy.
Ons bezoek eindigde altijd met een koude frisdrank bij de deur, een verfrissend contrast met de stomende hitte. Daarna, gewikkeld in onze pestemals, zaten mijn moeder en ik in onze cabine te praten. We glimlachten naar onze stralende, roze gezichten en zeiden: “Dat was gezellig.”
These core memories have shaped who I am. That’s why the hammam and pestemal are not just relaxation or a towel to me—they’re an essential part of our heritage and childhood.
If you’re ever in Türkiye, I warmly recommend experiencing a local hammam ritual. And hopefully, our pestemals will accompany you on your own journey.
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