“Turkey in Istanbul”

• September 18, 2020
• By Daryl
• 2 Comments

A man’s perspective to Hamam and hair remolded to a road trip to Cappadocia.  

We made it back to Istanbul, one of our favorite big cities. There is something magical about being here. This is a repair place for me. We have over 200,000 kilometers on our luggage. I had to replace my wheels last visit and this time the latches broke, I was securing my Zero Halliburton suitcase closed with two ropes. This was a little embarrassing, but this luggage is made from aircraft aluminum and is super strong. Because of COVID-19, I could not get parts mailed to me. I got some stainless steel hatch latches from a boat hardware store next to the harbor. With help from my friends, Taskin, here, we installed new latches. 

We also went to a hamam for a massage and a full body scrub and detail. A driver picked us up and transported us to the hotel. This is were I found out about hair transplant here is Istanbul, the last time we had massages done here, back in February.

We are taken into a marble enclosed room with a heated pedestal marble bed. Enclosed in a small wrap, a young girl pours warm water over the marble and our bodies. With a special glove that deep scrubs the dead skin cells off our body. I had already showered before this session, and it was amazing the amount of exfoliated black cell fossils that end up laying on the slab and the scrub glove, afterwards,

Next, a pillow case looking bag was used to fill with a soap and air. The bag was squeezed and billions of bubbles covering every body part with a six inches of exploding bubbles. This was such a strange feeling, I was paying close attention each explosion and bursting bubbles could be felt. At the same time the light is low and warm, and music with flutes, birds and soothing sounds fill our souls. 

I was laying on my stomach and my inflexible neck gets sore, quickly. I tried to move a little and a cramp consumes my attention in my shoulder. Bad timing, but the Nepalese girl started rubbing my back. She instantly found my demise and rubbed it into compliance. The bubbles are massaged all over, then washed away with warm water, poured over our bodies with filled bowls of hot water, gushing the bubbles and dead cells down the drain. 

A huge towel is used to dry off by the tiny hands, bringing to mind the Roman and Ottomans getting bathed this very way, thousands of years ago. We are led into a room and served tea, with soothing music, lightly influences our mood. The girls come back and lead us into another room with massage tables and the the magic begins. Staying awake laying on my stomach is easy and it is so enjoyable. But I turn on my back and close my eyes, enjoying the manipulations and boom, I am out. I wake up feeling great, but missed something.

We stayed in Istanbul for a month before, so I purchased lamb for stew and some steaks from my butcher. I go to my market and get butter, bread and vegetables. I make another trip to buy walnuts for my heart and Medjool dates. I lost my pocket knife, so I got a new one on this trip. We did not have much time, because I was getting my hair remodeled the next day. I made the lamb stew before being picked up for surgery day, so it would be ready upon return.

The day of reckoning has come, I am going into the mode. Four years ago, I walked into a hospital to have a horrible experience of having my knee cut off and getting a new prosthetic knee installed; knowing the pain and the time for recovery after the fact. So having my hair plucked out and being told it would be over one thousand of them, was daunting.

As it turns out, they removed thirty four hundred hair follicles out in two hours. That means death by 6800 cuts, then replacement of hair in a custom arrangement. Two people removed the hair and place them on a solution in a tray. Six ladies installed the patterns set out by the specialist. Six hours of pampering, nobody but a masochist would enjoy. The outcome will be nice. 

In three days we left for the long drive to Cappadocia.