Why I would travel to Istanbul for a scrub in the hammam
Crazy may it be, but in 2025 I plan to take a four-hour flight to have a good scrub in a hammam. But then Zeyrek Çinili Hamam, the so-called ‘tiled’ hammam, named after its original Iznik tiles, is no ordinary Turkish bath.
Zeyrek Çinili Hamam, in the Zeyrek neighbourhood of Istanbul, was designed in the early 1500s by chief Ottoman architect and civil engineer Mimar Sinan, described as the world’s first starchitect.
To ensure a sufficient water supply, Sinan had built the hammam over a Byzantine water cistern – a reminder of the city’s past as capital of the Roman Empire, before it fell in 1453 to the Ottomans, a Turkish tribe heading west from Anatolia.
Thousands of white, cobalt blue and turquoise Iznik tiles – a symbol of wealth and prestige in Ottoman days – originally covered the walls, in a display of 37 different patterns.
As the Ottoman Empire declined, so did Zeyrek Çinili Hamam. Most of the original tiles were ripped from the walls in the 19th century, subsequently finding their way through a network of dealers and into the likes of the Louvre, the British Museum and the V&A Museum.
Fast forward to today, and after 13 years of painstaking restoration by the Marmara Hotel Group and KA-BA Architects, the hammam reopened in spring 2024.
The new space includes not only the baths, but also a hamam museum, featuring some of the original tiles, and a contemporary arts space.
The journey to Zeyrek
Part of the beauty of Zeyrek Çinili Hamam is its location. Rather than being in central Beyoğlu or trendy Bebek, the hammam is in Zeyrek, a relatively poor neighbourhood in the historic Fatih district.
I had caught the No. 28 bus from Tophane in Beyoğlu. It was then a 20-minute ride, across the Galata Bridge and up the busy Ataturk Boulevard. The final stop was just below the imposing, arched structure of the Valens aqueduct, built in Byzantine days.
Like elsewhere in Istanbul, I felt safe in the streets. No one tried to catch my eye, or to bother me. Instead, I was left with the comforting, but I am sure false, impression that they must have been taking me for a local.
Up the steps, and after a short stroll down the narrow road, I found the entrance to the hammam, with its ancient domes peeking above the modern exterior walls.
As Julie Peteet describes in her bookThe Hammam through the Ages, to arrive at the hammam was to step into a purely ”intimate relationship between space, water and the body”. Here, I found an oasis of calm – a precious commodity in today’s world.
The hammam experience
I was led, step by step, through each stage of the hammam experience:
First step – Under the high dome of the ‘cool’ room, with its lounging day beds and central marble fountain, I was served a glass of chilled sherbet made with roses from Isparta, a town that accounts for 65% of the world’s rose oil production.
Second – I was ushered up the wooden stairs to the changing area, where I slipped on a pair of paper briefs (roll them over if they’re too big) and wrapped myself in a cotton peştamal designed by Turkish-British fashion designer Hussein Chalayan.
On my feet, I donned a pair of silver-grey Birkenstok flip-flops – a more practical take on the original nalin clogs, carved out of walnut, boxwood or sandalwood, inlaid with mother of pearl, and high enough to escape the water djinn, or spirits.
Third – My natir, the woman who would be ‘scrubbing me down’ (tellak for men, who visit the hammam during a different time slot), guided me to the göbek taşı, translated as the ’belly stone’, the warm, polished octagonal marble stone under the central dome of the ‘humid’ room.
Here, I spread my peştamal on the stone, lay down on my back, and looked up at the constellation of star-shaped skylights.
As my body temperature rose, I started to sweat gently. I let my body and mind sink into the marble. The acoustic design, for which Sinan was so famed, meant that the frequency and reverberation of the other women talking came across as a soothing babble. And the mathematical placing of the skylights cast a dappled light across the room.
Fourth – My natir led me to a marble recess, where I sat on a ledge by a basin – polished marble, of course. She turned on the two brass taps. Water gushed. She scooped up a bowl of the warm water and gently poured it over me.
After being well doused, then came the foam massage, using white, olive oil-based hammam soap, turned into bubbles by squeezing it through a long, white pillowcase-shaped fabric. (The black soap and oil massage are associated with North African hammams.)
She then scrubbed my body and face with an exfoliating glove, or kese, massaged my scalp, washed my hair, and scrubbed my feet and toes. (Each person has their own kese and knitted washcloth, which they then take home with them.)
Fifth and final – I was led back to the ‘cool’ room where I lay down on a day bed, with an infused damp cloth over my eyes, and where my mind continued to drift, transported by the soft, instrumental music in the background. Here I stayed until I was ready to rise.
Simple lunch in Zeyrek
Before heading back to the hotel, I stopped off at a very simple, local restaurant, Baran et Mangal. I had flinched when the reception desk at the hammam told me that guided tour groups often ate there. But there were none that day.
My hummus, yoghurt with purslane, and walnut salad, with a bottle of water, set me back 350TL (less than €10). The local diners, meanwhile, were tucking into their meat kebabs.
Now, three weeks after my visit to the hammam, as I write this blog post from London, my skin is still silky and smooth, and my bottle of body cream remains untouched on the bathroom shelf.
What else I liked about Istanbul
1. The lodos wind blows in from the Mediterranean, bringing warm air and stirring up the Bosphorus. There was a huge downpour when I was in Istanbul, but no wind. I love to feel the strength of nature in dense urban areas. And Istanbul, home to 16 million people, is dense.
2. The youthful vibe. The average age of an Istanbulite is ten years younger than in the rest of Europe.
3. The hills of Istanbul. Not ideal for wheeling a suitcase, but good for fitness levels.
4. Cats, hundreds of thousands of them, are a distinct part of everyday life in Istanbul. For cat lovers, watch Kedi (Cat), a 2016 documentary by Ceyda Torun. For dog lovers, watch Stray.
5. The harmonious sound of the Turkish language. Lots of vowels, the ubiquitous unpronounced ‘ğ’, and fewer harsh sounds than other languages.
6. Most people drink tea in Türkiye (the new name for Turkey), grown on the Black Sea coast. I still prefer Turkish coffee. I bought some to take home at Kurukahveci Mehmet Efendi. Remember, don’t stir the coffee as it will also stir up the fine coffee grounds.
7. Istanbul is home to some 500 historic mosques and churches, with the Blue Mosque and the Hagia Sophia at the top of the must-visit list. To enter a mosque, women need to wear a headscarf, and both men and women need to cover their shoulders and knees.
8. The Egyptian Bazaar, or spice market, which I visited together with one of Turkey’s top food writers, Aylin Öney Tan, and courtesy of the Monocle Quality of Life Conference 2025, which I was attending in Istanbul. Aylin introduced us to Cankurtaran Gida for cheese, and to the Hayfene store for spices, lokum (Turkish delight) and Iranian saffron. (For seekers of low-sugar lokum, look out for the Marsel brand.)
9. The Mayor of Istanbul, Ekrem Imamoğlu, who opened the 2024 Monocle Quality of Life Conference. Imamoğlu – no need to pronounce the ğ – is from the opposition Republican People’s Party. He has a big vision for Istanbul, including being host of the 1936 Olympic Games.
10. Minoa Pera was the venue for the Monocle Conference’s farewell brunch. Minoa has four bookstores across Istanbul, with plans to start publishing its own books. The world, and Türkiye, needs to hear more from Turkish writers. At present, there is just one on everyone’s lips: Orhan Pamuk.
Where to stay
I chose Beyoğlu for its central location, staying at the three-star The Soul Hotel in the Çukurcuma neighbourhood. I loved my room, no 406, with sound-tight windows, a blue ceiling and antique furniture.
The hotel is close to Boğazkesen street, which leads down to the Istanbul Modern. Here I found freshly baked sumit, the typical round bread dusted with sesame seeds (at Meşhur Boğazkesen Simit Firini) and börek (Özen Börek), as well as carts selling freshly squeezed pomegranate and orange juice.
For Turkish coffee, I went to the leather goods shop, The North Fox, opposite Turkish writer Orhan Pamuk’s Museum of Innocence.
How to get around
I bought an Istanbulkart to travel on the metro, buses and trams. Public transport is really cheap for those earning euros, pounds or dollars, so I only needed to top it up with 200TL for my journeys.
Coming in from the airport, I took the metro line 11 to Gayrettepe, which then connects to the regular metro network.
Where I ate
Yeni Lokanta, off the main pedestrianised shopping avenue of Istiklal. I went for two starters: olive oil braised beetroot with dried sour cherries, hazelnuts & ezine cheese, and vine leaves tempura, chickpeas, chestnut mushrooms, coriander & melon.
Most of the other diners at Yeni Lokanta were international visitors. I would go again, especially to sit at the bar as a solo diner. I had wanted to try the nearby Asmali Cavit, a popular Turkish tavern for meze and raki, but it was full.
For next time
I’d like to try the one Michelin-star Neolokal. I would also like to spend more time discovering the many mosques, churches, little shops and museums, as well as the shores of the Bosphorus.
As Orhan Pamuk wrote in his 2005 book, Istanbul: Memories and the City: “If the city speaks of defeat, destruction, deprivation, melancholy and poverty, the Bosphorus sings of life, pleasure and happiness.” We all need life, pleasure and happiness.
================================================================================================
ARE YOU SEEKING A CONTENT CREATOR TO MAXIMISE THE IMPACT OF YOUR BLOG?
Craft stories that resonate with your audience and amplify your brand’s voice. Contact me today.
Let’s work together!