Uncovered at the Hammam- Morocco

By Elizabeth Nystrom

Uncovered at the Hammam
Marrakech, Morocco
The Arab women had stripped. Their bare breasts differed from each other’s as much as our jeans and sneakers differed from their Obi-Wan Kenobi djellabahs and hand-crafted sandals that lay neatly along the shelved walls. Some sat with dimpled rear-ends, covered by wet granny undies hanging over plastic crates, while others with lean, flawless legs strutted to fetch warm bath water. We Americans still had our bras on, but I knew it wouldn’t be for long.
I had been intrigued by the idea of the hammams, Morocco’s public bathhouses. As hot water is still considered quite a luxury for many Moroccans, weekly bathing rituals are performed in public. My guidebook advertised an exotic experience that would leave me relaxed, exfoliated and squeaky. So I decided that it would be the perfect Christmas Day activity.
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