Muguet de Paris

Last week, a friend came to visit; her wish was to see Paris, not as a tourist but through the eyes of a local. So, although we did hit a few  of the spots that figure in the guidebooks, and hit the summer sales, bien sûr, I believe the highlight of her trip was our visit to the hammam. 

For those who might be unfamiliar, a hammam is a sort of Turkish bath, found predominantly in countries with a large Muslim population. A new one, reserved exclusively for women, has recently opened about two blocks from my apartment. It is a branch of the Hammam Pacha at Saint-Denis. I have been several times to the hammam at the Mosque in Paris, and I enjoyed myself immensely, but this one offers a new level of luxe, not to mention that it is convenient.

And so it happened that we left our daily cares at the door and entered what the brochure aptly describes as an “ambiance of A Thousand and One Nights.” We spent nearly 6 hours relaxing and getting in touch with our inner odalisques, as we were cleansed and coddled to eliminate all of those unpleasant little toxins that accumulate when you count wine and cheese among your major food groups.

Upon entering the hammam, one chooses from a menu of services. My friend,  generous to a fault, treated me to the works, surely the finest bread-and-butter gift I’ve ever received. We were served a glass of mint tea and shown a three-minute video describing what we should expect. We then were handed a towel, a peignoir and rubber sandals and escorted to the changing room, which featured lockers in a vivid Moorish motif and large — gasp! — mirrors. We hung our clothes in our lockers and changed into the prescribed attire, a bikini bottom. 

The first room is the salle tiède, a large tiled room with a central platform to recline, all very warm and moist. It is recommended that you stay there for about a half hour to soften and moisten your skin in preparation for the  treatments that follow. After taking a shower, we did indeed recline. This room is surrounded by treatment rooms, a steam room, a sauna and a jacuzzi. To add to the pleasure, since we had chosen a Monday afternoon, it was not at all crowded.

After softening up, it was on to the gommage, a rubdown with a rough glove that removes layers of dead cells, then a seaweed wrap. The latter is probably the only service I would skip the next time. While being slathered with a seaweed paste was very pleasant, being wrapped in plastic feels a little claustrophobic. It was over soon enough, and, after showering to remove the seaweed, an attendant  soaped us with orange-flower-scented suds. After a brief shower to rinse off the soap, we enjoyed a half hour of deep massage with essential oils.

After the massage, we were accompanied to the resting room, where we stretched out, and were given a facial mask and a massage with an argan cream. Argan oil comes from the nuts of a tree of ancient origin, an endangered species that grows in a small area of southwestern Morocco and is prized for its nutritional and cosmetic properties. In theory, after the facial care, one relaxes, perhaps takes a nap. However, it was nearing the end of the day, so we didn’t linger, but moved on into the dining room. I will surely plan for a nap the next time.

I had chosen a chicken tagine. The name refers both to the dish, a savory Moroccan stew, and to the clay pot in which it is  cooked (example at right). My friend had a very impressive salad that included smoked salmon and avocado. The chef, a pleasant-looking woman, served us, and I remarked to my friend, “I know this is going to be good; she looks so proud of what she has produced.” And it was excellent. I decided that one of life’s great small pleasures is being served a wonderful meal and eating it while dressed in my bathrobe.

We rose to get dressed, and the manager came running over. “No, no, no, mesdames, you can’t get up. You haven’t eaten your dessert.” We obediently returned to the table, and I finished off my meal with a light, creamy confection, flavored with orange-flower water and sprinkled with pine nuts. My friend, whose eating habits that week were more virtuous than my own, chose a fruit salad.

From beginning to end, this was a wonderful experience. The pleasant and attentive staff made it more so. We dressed, ready to face the world again, yet a little sorry to be leaving.

The Hammam Pacha is located at 17, rue Mayet, 75006 Paris. For further information (and more pictures), their site is www.hammampacha.com.

(Photos of hammam courtesy of Hammam Pacha.)

Jan del Monte, blogging from the rue du Cherche-Midi, Paris, France

© 2008 Jan del Monte

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