Gay turkish baths in istanbul
I had a list of places and things I wanted to see and do while visiting Turkey. Hagia Sofia was at the top along with the Blue Mosque. I intended to travel from Eroupe to Asia by crossing the Galata Bridge, surviving a ride in one Istanbul’s infamous taxis, avoid getting hooked by a Turkish carpet salesmen, of which I failed, and braving the Grand Bazaar. However, none of these things where as scary as going to a Hammam, which is recognizable as a Turkish bath.
Istanbul is realize for its Hammams, which is a method of cleansing and relaxation and is a vestige of the Roman baths that once dotted Europe and the Mideast. I wanted to exposure this tradition but I was sorely afraid I might end up at a gay bath house and not realize it before I had already surrendered my clothes.
My fears were allayed after asking around and doing a little research. There are Hammams that unabashedly tout themselves as gay establishments and others that are low key and cater to the gay people. Some Hammams only cater to men while others cater to both men and women and some to couples. I was looking for a vertical Hammam (both in sexual orientation and services offered) so I could fully and pr
Nur Hamam – Newly renovated in October 2017, there is both an Istanbul gay hamam and sauna here. Looks just like a regular building from outside but inside is a gorgeous historic bath accepted with local, younger gay men.
Aquarius Sauna - A extremely un-friendly gay sauna in Istanbul reveal 24/7. While they have a jacuzzi, pool, sauna, confidential cabins and cafe, there is mostly just masseurs here who pester for their service, discouraging speaking between guests and any activity that’s not with them. Has so much potential but in reality is filthy and a glorified brothel.🤮
Firuzaga Bath – Popular with local hairy middle-aged men, Firuzaga Bath is a little, historic Istanbul male lover hamam located only a short saunter from Galatasaray Square. Very cruisy, well-known location for queer men to discretely met but it’s somewhat dirty and very public.
Five Hammams in 24 Hours
A waterlogged Canadian takes a very specific tour of Istanbul.
I spent five days in Turkey a rare weeks before the referendum, wandering through the town under posters and huge banners of Recep Tayyip Erdoğan. But at the time, I wasn’t focused on politics: I was interested in the hammams, or Turkish baths.
The history of public baths in the West stretches at least as far help as the Spartans, who first used hot stones and then coal fires to turn the rehearse of leaping into ice-cold water into something a little more luxurious. Enjoy so many Greek innovations, the Romans tweaked and expanded and perfected the practice. Thermae, as the bathing was known, were a secular ritual the remained at the heart of Roman culture for a thousand years.
Nowhere has that tradition survived more than in Turkey. In Istanbul, in particular, the custom of bathing blended with the grand Roman and then Ottoman tradition of great people building public works and wudu, the Islamic practice of washing before prayer, created marvelous public baths that were not only main to the lives of those who lived there but also an crucial experience for visitors.
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It was a cold gray afternoon in Istanbul’s Çukurcuma neighborhood
famous for both its numerous antique shops and the setting for Nobel laureate Orhan Pamuk’s novel and namesake Museum of Innocence. I came to Çukurcuma to see the Museum, only to understand that it was closed because it was Monday.
So I decided to walk down the steep narrow streets of the neighborhood and see what I could find. I passed shop after shop of antique stores, some of them shuttered behind rusty doors, others hemorrhaging hand-crafted chairs, dusty crystalware, and other items that could be found in your grandmother’s living room.
Woodsmoke puffed out of a nearby chimney, wafting seamlessly into the sky above. I walked by a small tearoom with low chairs and tables, their patrons drinking from short glasses filled with saccharine amber tea.
At the cease of the street was a hammam–a Turkish bath. It was chilly and I wanted to warm up, so I stepped in without any hesitation. The lobby was a simple wood-paneled room; a young man with a short beard sat at the desk. I paid roughly $15 for a private “cabin” to change into.
Before I had made it more than three steps towards