I’ve been Hammamed!

I’ve been Hammamed! Qu’est-ce que c’est "hammamed" you ask? It means I was violated by a large Algerian woman with a screechy voice, gold teeth and probing hands. (I mean no disrespect for women who have been truly violated so please take this tongue in cheek.)

In a middle eastern "spa", I was massaged in places I’ve never been massaged before while in a room full of naked women lounging around sipping mint tea. To add insult to injury, she gave me an “atomic wedgie” (credit for that to Jen) as I elected to maintain a shred of modesty via a pair of bloomers that were repeatedly wedged up in order to massage my glutes.

When we arrived at the Hammam de la Grande Mosquée, a first time for Kristin, Jen and me, we were given little instruction in rapid fire French but managed to flail and stumble our way to the locker room then to the steam room. A beautiful marble and tile room, perfectly temperate, not hot nor chilly, we selected the last empty ‘nook’ for lack of a better word, splashed water on the marble floor, squeegeed it clean (or as clean as possible, all things considered…which we would rather not consider) and sat down. We were given a Dixie cup of something, “savon” or soap they claimed, similar to a soft wax that we were told to rub all over ourselves, then rinse off. OK, did that.

Then the gommage. An exfoliation by Attila the Hun, kidding, but close. Perhaps a German prison guard in a previous life, this woman took off at least 20 layers of skin and I watched it come off. Now that part I enjoyed however it took place on a table topped with a blue exercise mat that was covered with spots of black mold. I looked at her and looked at the table, then looked at her then looked at the table. The high powered hose provided little comfort and she made no move to explain this fungus patch so I threw down my towel and plopped down. I could feel her glare burning.

While I was having the top 75% of my epidermis removed, the above mentioned masseuse kept coming in a screaming at the scrubber. I guess we took too long in steam room... Finally I looked up and said “s’il vous plait?” and they said “oui madame?” and I said “SHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Once again her eyes burned and with my stars and stripes Nordstroms flip flops, I didn’t little to further east-west relations but at that point I didn’t give a hoot. I was just glad I brought flip-flops. And I hadn’t even had the massage yet...

After the skin removal, we moved to the lounge/massage room with four tables in the center topped with naked bodies, wedgies in tact, being massaged. Disconcerting would be an understatement. When it was my turn, I walked to the table and noted that the masseuse didn’t change the towels on the table from the woman who had just been there before me. I asked her if she was going to change the towels. I asked her twice hoping she’d get the hint. No and no. I looked at her and looked at the table, then looked at her then looked at the table. Iwas completely chagrined by this point. I calmly laid my towel down and climbed up.

I requested seulement mon dos et epaules (only my neck and back). Well she immediately went for the breasts, followed by the atomic wedgie and the rest is history. I raced back to the locker room and Jen and I silently gave each other a wide eyed “Oh my God, what just happened” look. Now I'm hardly a prude however this was far from anything remotely resembling a massage that I've had in pristine spas with private rooms, dimmed lighting, soothing music, Egyptian cotton robes, fuzzy slippers and...real, professionally trained masseuses.

I am considering asking Time Out Paris to reimburse me the 48 euros as they claim: “To the sound of soft voices and Arabic music, clients are steamed, scrubbed and massaged in this 1920s mosque”. Ha! There were no soft voices, only screeching, and not a note of music. Fortunately I did not have to use the restroom, as Kristin later informed us that it was simply a hole in the ground, sans papier!

We should have read the next listing down for a different hammam that claims: “This hammam experience is hard to beat - spotless ..... masseuse Sonia .... wrapping you in rose petals, using rare huile d’Argan from Morocco”. I missed the part about “spotless” and a masseuse that “wraps you in rose petals” with Moroccan oil. Had I been scrubbed raw on a spotless mat and had a woman named Sonia wrapped me in rose petals, forfait florale, well perhaps it would have been a much different experience.

Afterwards, the three of us went to a nearby café to process what just happened. Would we do it again? Not a change in you-know-where. Are we glad we did it? Well, it was an experience, one we will never forget and, once we recover, one that we will laugh about for the rest of our lives.

Caveat Emptor!

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Time Out Paris: http://www.timeout.com/paris/shops/4.html

Hammam de la Grande Mosquée: http://www.mosquee-de-paris.org/  1 pl du Puits-de-l’Ermite, 5th (01.43.31.18.14). M° Censier Daubenton. Open Men 2-9pm Tue; 10am-9pm Sun. Women 10am-9pm Mon, Wed, Sat; 2-9pm Fri. Credit MC, V. To the sound of soft voices and Arabic music, clients are steamed, scrubbed and massaged in this 1920s mosque. Follow your session with a gommage (exfoliation with a rough mitt), then a massage. The hammam is €15, gommage €10 and massage €10.

Hammam Med Centre: http://www.hammammed.com 43-45 rue Petit, 19th (01.42.02.31.05). M° Ourcq. Open Women 11am-10pm Mon-Fri; 10am-8pm Sun. Mixed 10am-8pm Sat. Credit MC, V. This hammam experience is hard to beat - spotless, mosaic-tiled surroundings; flowered sarongs and even a pool. But the main draw is masseuse Sonia Benothman, whose pioneering ‘Rose de Nuit’ treatment involves wrapping you in rose petals, using rare huile d’Argan from Morocco. Hammam and gommage cost €34, a ‘Forfait florale’ €119.

Comments

[mcforys]

Wow, now all my questions are answered. Last march when we were in town we stayed in the 20th, which is Hammam central. I was never brave enough to try it, but now I know what to expect and I still don't know if I am brave enough! I definitely think the second entry in time out sounds a little less rough on the old epidermis and senses.

Thanks for sharing!

[Olivia]

This sounds atrocious, but so, so funny! I had long been interested in trying a Hammam, but now not without sheer ignorance or seriously good word of mouth!

[Lisa]

Personally I love the Hammam in the Mosquee, although I don't think I'd repeat the gommage experience. But you might want to try the Sultane de Saba in the 16th (there might be other branches around town), which is more of a cross between a hammam and a day spa. And, of course, it's more expensive. A couple of friends and I had a day of beauty there as part of my "farewell to Paris," and it was unbelievable.

[Sue]

heh, we had a hamman experience in Turkey. There was no massage nor pummelling. Just a vigourous scrubbing on a warm marble dome by a hairy turkish man(yes, man - it was unisex). I lay back and thought of the Queen.