I have never felt closer to death in a place that was supposed to be relaxing than I did today.
In a "hey we're almost done with everything yay!" moment, some of the SIT gals decided to go to a turkish bath: a place where calm goes to die.
Everything was well and good as we stripped into our "bathing suits"/sports bra and underwear for lazy people (like yours truly, same thing, right?) and we were ushered into a dank fairly dark room with some sweet mood lighting and asian-esque ambiance music by a women who does not speak english at all. I'm feelin' great (minus the crocs they made me put on for the bathhouse, barefoot would have been germier, but preferred).
This is where I enter the first circle of hell. We are ushered into a steam room in which I am told we must sit for fifteen minutes. I nonchalantly walk in, have trouble seeing (in said sweet, but unhelpful mood lighting) and get told by a friend above the ruckus of slight squeals around me that if I keep walking there are stairs to go up. I do the stingray shuffle, find said stairs, and climb all two of them until I feel like I'm dying. I could not breath. At all. You think I'm kidding, I know but I felt like I was breathing wet fire and droplets of condensed burning water kept falling onto my bare skin. TORTURE CHAMBER. We figure out collectively, one must stay low in order to survive and utilize hand towel as pseudo-mask in order to prevent imminent cooking of lung tissue. I sit here, contemplating my death feeling the sting and burn of drops of water.
We then are taken into a hot tub where I swear you could have poached an egg it was so hot. Alas, we get in muttering to ourselves it's not so bad if you just commit to it. As we swap first kiss stories and best kiss stories to distract ourselves from the pain, I feel my hands and feet continue to tingle in protest and my head get so light I swear I will fall over. Practicing some good old Bikram Yoga breathing (if you haven't tried it, go now! It's amazing), I regain my ability to process oxygen and leave the group as two by two we are called away to be exfoliated and massaged.
How many layers of skin does a person have? Today I think I had like two of them scrubbed off. Mish mushkilah, everything was peachy.
MASSAGE- happiness, worth all of the tragic terrible-ness of almost dying in a 2x3 foot steam room and a boiling vat of water.
I swore thousands of times I'd never do it again because it advertises loveliness but inflicts SO MUCH PAIN (and I'm sorry but people just can't massage my feet without me giggling, it's impossible). Alas, I'd go again tomorrow if I didn't have work to do. I FEEL SO HAPPY and CLEAN. It's great. If you ever have the excuse to go to a turkish bath, do so and you will only regret (and forget) half of it. ;)
Love from afar and home so soon!
In a "hey we're almost done with everything yay!" moment, some of the SIT gals decided to go to a turkish bath: a place where calm goes to die.
Everything was well and good as we stripped into our "bathing suits"/sports bra and underwear for lazy people (like yours truly, same thing, right?) and we were ushered into a dank fairly dark room with some sweet mood lighting and asian-esque ambiance music by a women who does not speak english at all. I'm feelin' great (minus the crocs they made me put on for the bathhouse, barefoot would have been germier, but preferred).
This is where I enter the first circle of hell. We are ushered into a steam room in which I am told we must sit for fifteen minutes. I nonchalantly walk in, have trouble seeing (in said sweet, but unhelpful mood lighting) and get told by a friend above the ruckus of slight squeals around me that if I keep walking there are stairs to go up. I do the stingray shuffle, find said stairs, and climb all two of them until I feel like I'm dying. I could not breath. At all. You think I'm kidding, I know but I felt like I was breathing wet fire and droplets of condensed burning water kept falling onto my bare skin. TORTURE CHAMBER. We figure out collectively, one must stay low in order to survive and utilize hand towel as pseudo-mask in order to prevent imminent cooking of lung tissue. I sit here, contemplating my death feeling the sting and burn of drops of water.
We then are taken into a hot tub where I swear you could have poached an egg it was so hot. Alas, we get in muttering to ourselves it's not so bad if you just commit to it. As we swap first kiss stories and best kiss stories to distract ourselves from the pain, I feel my hands and feet continue to tingle in protest and my head get so light I swear I will fall over. Practicing some good old Bikram Yoga breathing (if you haven't tried it, go now! It's amazing), I regain my ability to process oxygen and leave the group as two by two we are called away to be exfoliated and massaged.
How many layers of skin does a person have? Today I think I had like two of them scrubbed off. Mish mushkilah, everything was peachy.
MASSAGE- happiness, worth all of the tragic terrible-ness of almost dying in a 2x3 foot steam room and a boiling vat of water.
I swore thousands of times I'd never do it again because it advertises loveliness but inflicts SO MUCH PAIN (and I'm sorry but people just can't massage my feet without me giggling, it's impossible). Alas, I'd go again tomorrow if I didn't have work to do. I FEEL SO HAPPY and CLEAN. It's great. If you ever have the excuse to go to a turkish bath, do so and you will only regret (and forget) half of it. ;)
Love from afar and home so soon!
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