My first experience in a hammam was in in Morocco. It reminded me more of an activity Dick Cheney would sign approval for than a spa treatment. The room was spartan with close walls and one hard bench to sit on. The door shut heavily from the outside.The heat was stifling. The language barrier was stiff. I was left, naked except for bikini bottoms for long stretches. Then a large, topless woman came in, barked orders that I didn’t quite understand and scrubbed and pulled at my skin until it was raw and I whimpered. The water was boarded over my head in a continuous stream, leaving me gasping like …
