You vant masaj?

We were on a mission of sorts. Earlier in the day, Julian and I had this grand idea of spending the evening in one of Baku's best kept secrets: the hamam (Turkish Bath). I had been in one before, but Julian had yet to be seduced by the powerful relaxant that is eighty-degree humidity.

Baku has about as many hamams as Vancouver has sushi restaurants or Cairo has ahwas (cafes). Such supply often means a inconsistent demand. Ask my brother about the quality of certain sushi restaurants in Vancouver and I'm pretty sure he can prove that theory correct. As far as hamams are concerned here, you never really know which will be full of prostitutes and which are actually reputable establishments.

So Julian and I set out. We had an idea of a couple of places that may just work for us. One was aptly named "Gentlemen's Hamam." We descended the stairs, opened the door, pushed aside the plastic flap that acted as a cold shield, and were immediately greeted by a musty smell...and four older woman. It was all very awkward, but I managed to ask how much the hamam cost. She replied in her best Russian/Azeri accent, "You vant masaj? Tventy manats for masaj." Eww...shivers still run down my spine when I think of those seven words. I do now want to know what was happening on the other side of the door. Needless to say, Julian and I turned around and ran.

We checked the sign on the place across the street, but figured it was probably exactly the same. I think we both agreed that we didn't want to hear the word "masaj" said in such an accent again. So off we went to the old city where we heard there was some cool hamams.

We found one after a while and it turned out to be just the place we needed. It was Julian and I plus about twenty middle-aged Azeri men. Some were getting powerful massages, others were jumping in the cold pool, and even more were just chillin' in the saunas. If there's one thing about being the only two white people in a hamam, it's that you stick out like a sore thumb. But that means everyone talks to you and makes sure your stay is pleasant.

I find the hamam culture fascinating. Men are basically forced to check their egos at the door (their physiques are almost always less-than-stellar). What you get is genuine conversation with genuine dudes. Now if only we could converse fluently...