We all walk into the waiting area past the jacuzzi and swimming pool (which look awfully nice but we really want the steam room and massage, so bring it on) to check in with the receptionist. We hand in our tickets and Rachelle and I are told to have a seat. Denise and Carolyn are brought into a room already. I thought they were going into the steam room right away, but they were just brought into a changing room so they could wrap a sarong around them for privacy. They get escorted to the steam room while Rachelle and I are invited to the changing room. We're wearing our bathing suits but we take off our shorts and put them in a locker. We are then escorted to the steam room to join Carolyn and Denise, and I almost choke as I enter the room. I mean I know it's called a steam room but it is REALLY steamy in there and it's hard to breathe! Carolyn, Denise, and the others in there (yeah, we are not the only ones who are capitalizing on this awesome deal) tell me that if I put my head closer to the floor, or lie down on the bench, it'll be easier to breathe since the steam rises to the ceiling. Boy were they right. Taking in slower breaths and lying down on the bench make it much more enjoyable. In a matter of 60 seconds I think I am already sweating. Or the steam is beading on my body. I'm not sure which, and maybe in fact both.
In the order in which we arrived, men and women are called out one by one to the next step of this whole process, which I'm still not sure is a Turkish Bath or not. Carolyn gets taken in first, then Denise, and eventually me. By eventually, I mean about 45 minutes. In the steam room. No joke. Tried to kill time in the jacuzzi instead (making sure that I would get called in the right order) but it was way too crowded so back to the steam room I went. Right, so eventually I get called in and the same woman who was working at the reception area when we first walked in to the spa part of the hotel, is in a room, soaking wet, and takes my sarong (which really is like a sheet, a thick one, and kinda smelly by the way) and puts it on this huge marble table. She tells me to lie down. She takes a neoprene glove (or something else, I'm still not really sure what it was) and starts scrubbing my arms and legs at lightning speed. Maybe this is part of the experience but I think she's just in a mad dash to get everybody in and out of this room. In between scrubbing she is taking a bowl of warm water and throwing it all over me. Is this really supposed to be good for my skin? I was imagining a nice relaxing fairly quiet and not so hectic atmosphere for this, but maybe this deal is not so much of a deal. She finishes with the scrub and the last bit of warm water and sends me back into the steam room. As I walk out of there I realize why she is soaking wet - cause all she does is frantically throw water around in that room.
Rachelle gets called in and I'm waiting for the next part - the massage. I hope that part is good. I'm sitting there in the steam room waiting and meanwhile talking to some of the other people in there with me. At this point, I am sitting in the entrance to the steam room because the actual room itself is so hot and beyond steamy. As more and more people enter the room, they think that where I am sitting is actually it, so I tell them they have to walk through the curtain to get to the real deal. Some can tolerate it; some are wusses like me.
I finally get called in for the massage part. And this is really where the fun starts. The little lady (who really is probably about 4'7") who is going to do my massage tells me, "English no. Arabic." Umm ok this could be fun. I say, "Salaam" which means "hello" and "peace" like "Shalom." At this point it's like the only Arabic word I know, so I figure I might as well. She takes my sarong just like the scrub lady, and covers the table with it. Then, with her lack of English and my lack of understanding what these next steps are, starts pulling down my bathing suit. I'm thinking, OK, just to get the straps off my shoulders is probably practical for this type of activity. Nope, not enough! Halfway down my body is suitable for her. Is this seriously happening? Am I on candid camera? Maybe. I lie down, face down on the table. However, unlike an actual legitimate certified massage, there is nowhere to put my head, so I have to rest my head on my hands. She starts the so-called massage, which is really just taking soap and rubbing it all over my body that is not still covered in my bathing suit. This is totally not a massage but whatever it is, I think I'm stuck here for it. She is finished with the back of my arms and legs, and has me turn over onto my back. She starts doing the same soapy rubbing thing, not so much a massage. Does my face and my hair and it feels like I'm at the hair salon getting shampooed. I think I'm probably laughing slightly at this point, really wondering if this is happening. This has got to be a joke. I'm lying here on a marble table, topless, with a little Indonesian woman who speaks no English, who is putting soap all over my body. And she's getting paid for it!
As if this isn't enough, the special package isn't over. She indicates to me that I should stand up, which I do, and then she has me sit on the floor by the water faucet. She takes the bowl of water and starts pouring it all over me, I guess to get rid of all this soap. I'm soaking wet at this point, my hair is maybe filled with soap, maybe washed away, I have no idea. She has me stand up, and pours water into the front and back of my bathing suit, shakes it and pours more water. What planet did I get dropped off on, and how did I get here? At this point I'm laughing for sure (but trying not to), because all of this is going on without a bathing suit top on my body! It is so funny, and so awkward, and so unique an experience, I don't even know what to do with myself.
OK surely this must be done. I reach for my bathing suit straps to cover myself up, and she stops me. She takes a small towel and wraps it around my head. I reach again for my bathing suit and she stops me again. She takes a bigger towel and wraps it around my body, tucks it in and I'm free to leave. Deep breath. Ready to face the world again. Only a little more violated now.
I walk into the waiting room where I assumed my friends would be waiting for me. As soon as I walked in there, I absolutely burst out laughing. When Rachelle and Denise did too, I realized we all just had quite possibly the weirdest experience of our lives. Apparently Carolyn is upstairs already showering (cause let's face it, the scrub and the soap were really not making us cleaner, they probably made us dirtier and more filled with germs) but we all ask each other about this whole situation to make sure we all just experienced the same thing. It's absolutely hilarious and I'm sure I'm crying from laughing so hard at this point.
We all head upstairs to our rooms to shower for dinner. Even while I'm in the shower, trying to clean off all the filth of the Turkish Bath experience, I start cracking up to myself, remembering every detail of what just happened. It is hilarious and I can't even control myself. We all get dressed to head downstairs to our buffet dinner, which is all set up and decorated for Christmas. It's so cute. Jews in Jordan on Christmas for a nice dinner. While we're sitting there, of course we are all still comparing stories and laughing like children. We finish up, we are totally exhausted, and call it a night.
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