Inside the Urgup City Hamam I'm instructed to undress (I've brought my swimsuit) in one of the changing rooms. My clothes are locked in a locker.
Wrapped in a towel, I'm escorted to the bath area, a large common space surrounded by smaller shower rooms. An octagonal slab bathed in light from a glass dome overhead dominates the area. I lie here roasting slowly.
My tellak (masseur) is a young, attractive Turkish man. He leads me into a private room where he lathers, loofahs and rinses me, then applies a pressure point massage that's therapeutic almost -- but not quite -- to the verge of being painful.
I feel great leaving the hamam, my skin is soft and my muscles weak.