Was I having a Bath?

Between my first and second meeting with Alfredo something in the Arabian air did something to my mind. Something which made me do something I'd definitely never do in the Western World - buy a dress, not for daughter, mother, sister or girlfriend, but for myself.

Of course I'm being unfair. Only teasing, my Lord. Whilst it actually was is a 'dish dasha'. I was struck my the sumptious, creamy colour of the proffered item, paraded under my nose by a smiling purveyor of Arabian attire. A 'V-neck' single body garment, some have full length arms, some don't, stopping at the bicep. I had one of the latter. I put it on after having a bath at a Hammam and then wore it for the next two days all around Aleppo. Only some stubborn mud accumulating at its base, and an uncertainty as to how to wash the beast, prevented me from continuing to wear it. Certainly, it made for very comfortable attire in the intense heat of day.

Obviously, after I put it on I felt, self-consciously, like an international superstar and waited to receive suitably impressed smiles and exclamations from the surrounding community. Actually, the reaction was surprisingly muted, though I was glad some nods and smiles were noted. Later Alfredo, when he first saw it on me, shocked and impressed all at once, said people would surely laugh. I said they didn't and he confirmed this himself when we went out later. Previously, he'd only worn his dish dasha at home but now he might change his mind.

Before I'd only ever worn 'dress' arrangements at a fancy dress party in Durham and while kinkily dressing up in an idle moment with a girl. This was the first time I'd publically worn a item at least looking like a dress. Obviously, the fact that in Aleppo about 60% of the men were doing the same had encouraged me. I must say it can be particularly difficult running in this item, and when I caught myself picking up the material around the knees to facilitate movement I awkwardly felt exceptionally female.

Regarding the Hammam, I decided to opt against having the full body massage as I still remembered the pain of being roughly manhandled in Istanbul three years ago. Persuading them I didn't want the massage was pretty hard, nevertheless.

It's of course very agreeable to get wet and washed when you're out and about in the heat and dust of an Arabian day. But Hammams are not as good as Japanese Onsens, which I enjoyed with great dedication last summer. These allow you not only to wash more easily with a greater abundance of soap but to soak in pools of varying temperatures as well. Still, onsens don't have the same tradition of massage attached so they can't compete if a good body pummeling is what you're after. Another central difference is the erstwhile semitic body shame the Hammams defend and that the Japanese innocently know nothing of. In the Turkish baths you must be always covered up beneath the navel by an annoying white sheet that got in my way when I tried to wash.