This post was written by Hatchet staff writer Margaret Kahn, who will chronicle her summer experiences in Istanbul in a series of posts.

New York City has Times Square, Los Angeles has the Hollywood Walk of Fame and Istanbul has hamams.

The hamam, or Turkish bath, has been a centuries-old tradition shared by sultans and villagers alike – as well as a must-do tourist activity.

The catch? Don’t expect to bathe in private.

When I ventured to a hamam last week with my flatmate Marlies, I had been warned in advance about stripping down to my skivvies. When I came out of the changing room wrapped in a woven bath towel, I was met by the biggest, most naked Turkish “teyze,” or old woman, I had ever laid eyes on. (That count was previously at zero.)

Marlies and I instinctively recoiled, but the laughing teyze grabbed our arms and led us into a large marble room with a huge round slab as its centerpiece and water-filled basins on the walls. We were told to lie on our towels, then she splashed us with warm water.

The teyze then left us for 20 minutes of sweaty, pore-opening relaxation and a considerable amount of giggling between me and Marlies. I had known her for just a week, but had now seen her far more intimately than I anticipated.

When the teyze returned, she took what looked like an oven mitt and began scrubbing off the top layer of my skin.  “Look!” the teyze said as she showed off her handiwork. As 19 years worth of dirt came off my body, I wondered, what I had even been doing in the shower all this time?

She then lathered up a huge loofah and transformed me into a soapy car wash. After splashing me again, she pulled me to sit next to a basin spilling over with running water, and shampooed my hair and face.

Now that I have had a few days to recover from my up close and personal experience with the teyze – who had an uncanny resemblance to Buddha – I can confidently recommend the hamam to any other Istanbul visitor.