Hammam Guide

Ağa Hamamı. Turnacıbaşı Sok. No. 60, Beyoğlu. Hours: 24 (although presently in Dec 2012 it closes at 10pm). Prices: Hamam 20 YTL, 5 for Kese, 5 for Massage.

Visited Dec. 28th, 2008, Sunday, 3:30 pm.

On a particularly cold Sunday, my friend and I ventured to find another hamam to spend some time in. We wanted something cheaper but still close by. After waling by Galatasaray Hamamı to take some pictures, we continued left down the same street and came across Ağa Hamamı, not even 2 blocks away. I found it strange that two hamams would be so close to one another. Both are equally old, in fact the Ağa was from 1454, 27 years older than Galatasaray. We descended into the substreet level atrium area which was cold and dark (the light was turned on for the photo). The central fountain was not flowing but filled with colored stones. The room was so cold in fact that the attendant wore a heavy pea coat as he showed us to our rooms to change. The atrium was not ugly. I gathered it was kept this way in efforts to conserve heat and heating bills.

The heated portion of the bath was quite small. A main room with a central marble stone and 2 alcove rooms off of it. It was not terribly hot either. My friend and I laid down on the slab, only slowly feeling the sweat start to bead on our bodies. It felt nice and relaxing, and the no-frills space was fine. Granted, it was not sparkling; there were some dark water stains on the walls, however, the (rather old) hamam was clean and simple. We were the only ones inside.

After 15 minutes, the keseci, a tall thin older man in his 50s, asked if we were ready and I asked for 5 more minutes. He was not pushy which I found refreshing from other baths that assume foreigners know nothing about the procedures of bathing. After a while, he returned and attended to me first. He led me to the side near a washbasin and began to kese my skin and soap me up with a bar, rather than the long soap ‘bag.  I thought it strange the he didn’t do it on the marble slab and I was sitting. He spent a long time on my arms and hands. He had one arm outstretched, my fingers reaching evenly between his legs. As he kese-ed my arms and soaped them he manipulated the slight opening and closing of my fingers, which I soon realized in my relaxed sweaty torpor, were stroking strategically against the bulge of his pestemel. At first I thought to pull my hand away but then realized that this was so innocent, so opportunistic, and harmless (and thankfully brief) that I didn’t move my arm. After doing my other arm (the same way), he then moved me to the marble slab and massaged me. At some point, he partially climbed up on the slab to get a better vantage on my back. The now larger and uncovered bits from under his pestemel grazed along my arm. I was cautiously amused at this game of subtle yet intentional self-eroticism. Through all of this there was very little talking. He also made no attempt to ‘accidentally’ grope me. I wondered if my friend realized what was happening? I looked over and he was lying peacefully on the slab, his eyes closed. At the end of the massage and kese I also felt quite relaxed and blissful.

It was my friend’s turn next and the keseci made me go into the side alcove area which I found interesting as he hadn’t really directed me around the bath until then. I then wondered if our kese at the side of the bath and away from my friend’s gaze, was intentional. I of course was insatiably curious whether my friend would get similar treatment. I leaned against the wall, occasionally pouring water from a basin onto myself and angled to see what was happening. Whether he was doing the same things to him or not was difficult to discern from a distance. Then, after his kese, my friend was relocated to a part of the marble slab that was blocked from my view, rather ‘coincidentally.’ At that point a middle aged late 40s-sh Turkish man entered and joined me in my little alcove. We made small chatter. His voice was basso and gravelly, like Harvey Fierstein. Then 2 women walked in, both tall with long black hair and looked like twins. I could not tell if they were Turkish or not but thought they were. Their pestemels were higher around their chests. They went into the second alcove, setting up a pestemel like a curtain at the threshold. I was a bit astonished. I also felt a bit self-aware of my body. Not that I cared for them to see me in any stage of nudity, but that I felt in Turkey in a bath it was not proper. Something just felt wrong or aberrant, perhaps as this represented a jarring shift out of a previously male space. I mentioned the women to the older Turkish man who hadn’t seen them and he didn’t believe me.  He told me rather factually that women and men don’t bathe together in Turkey. Then the women came out and laid on the slab together. His eyes widened. He said that he is a regular of this bath and has never seen women and men bathing together. I found it interesting that his reaction was neither shock nor indignation not did he make an attempt to cover up. Rather he seemed amused, as if to say, “Well if they don’t mind, I don’t mind.” After my friend rejoined us we continued chatting a bit then decided to leave.

We shed our pestemels and changed into clean ones in a side shower/bathroom area between the atrium and hot room. This part of the bath was dingy. We didn’t idle in the atrium (something odd about relaxing naked in towels while the attendant and owner are in winter coats) but quickly changed and left. We were closely followed by the older Turkish man. I wondered if in the end he was uncomfortable being in there along with the women.

The Ağa Hamamı is an old bare bones no frills bath. Cheap and clean enough, I’m sure it has seen some action at some point, being close to Taksim and its madness, and apparently mixed gender. Did I mention that the bath is open 24 hours?