Cleaner than ever!

02/20/23 Foum Zguid Next to me at the Khama Park campground are Jan and Jeanette from Holland with their motorhome. The two caught my attention immediately, partly because of their Great Dane and partly because of their trailer, which holds a large enduro bike waiting for its use. And because of Jeannette's colorful outfit, which signals the joy of life that the married couple of over 50 years radiates.

Jan is 73, Jeanette is 72, and in the winter they escape to the sun, away from their home in Nieuw-Vennep near Amsterdam. And just like every year, they also went to Morocco this year, where Jan can race through the dunes with his enduro bike, preferably alone. "Yes, at home they say, 'he is crazy', but I love it. And if I can't do what I love anymore, what kind of life would that be?" says the painter, who has a son and a daughter together with Jeannette.

She is a businesswoman and runs a shop with wooden toys for children and decoration materials. She invited me this morning to go to the local hammam with her. A hammam is a steam bath where a special bathing ceremony takes place. The focus is on relaxation through steam and a subsequent massage with soapy foam, I learned from the internet. Jeannette swears by it and takes every opportunity for such a bath. So, off to the hammam!

On the way, we buy a handful of soap from a small shop, which is scraped with a wooden scraper from a bowl into a piece of foil, a pot with a handle, a small stool, and a massage glove - all made of plastic. Before entering the bath, women and men are separated. I didn't really consider that. Now I'm on my own...

An older gentleman leads me to a door, and as I open it, a blast of hot steam hits my face. I am in a room where a dozen men are dressing and undressing or taking off their clothes down to their underwear. They keep their underwear on. I do the same. Then the door opens to another room, from which I hear laughter and murmuring. When a man approaches me, who must be the big brother of Arnold Schwarzenegger, I sense trouble. He takes my belongings from me and throws them into a black bucket. With a nod of his head, he indicates that I should take the bucket and follow him.

We enter the other room. It is hot and the dense steam makes it hard to see anything. He leads me to a corner, places me on my stool, and slaps the soap on my back and stomach. He points to the five or six men in the room and leaves. The men, all in their underwear, lather up. They have a bucket of water next to them, so I get up and fill my bucket with water from one of the many faucets. I lather up. Ten minutes, 15 minutes, 20 minutes. Everyone is lathering up, so I do too. Occasionally, the men scoop some water from the buckets and pour it over their bodies. So, I do the same.

Finally, Arnold I. returns. Without a word, he pulls me from my stool and drags me to another door. I fear that patience is not one of this man's strengths... He gestures for me to lie down on the floor and stretch out my arms and legs. Then it gets serious: He puts on the massage glove, kneels down next to me on the floor, and starts scrubbing me. I grit my teeth - no, I bite back a scream. It hurts like hell! My gaze searches for the areas he has already worked on... There must be blood! But I can't find any. He scrubs and rubs, not missing - hardly missing - any spot. I knew that the guy had strength, but I didn't know he could put so much pressure...

I have to turn around, then sit up. Finally, it's time for my face. It reminds me of the situation as a child when my mother used to scrub me with a washcloth. Terrible! After a good hour, my hammam experience is over. Arnold demands 130 dirhams from me - double the usual price. I gladly pay it. Just get me out of here!

On the way home, I search for positive aspects of this experience. I only find one: I am cleaner than ever, so clean that I don't need to take a shower for the remaining three weeks of this trip.