“Adjusting to the shower experience”

November 30

When I was a tot I remember taking baths with my mom in the room to supervise me. She made sure I did not drown myself in the tub and protected me from the burning sensation of shampoo in my eyes. As I grew up I enjoyed taking baths alone without any supervision. I would use the time to relax. I can turn on my music, maybe even light a candle and lay in the tub for a good while. Perhaps I might even read a book if I feel I am in need of an extra wind down.
Being here, I am once again reliving my childhood. No longer am I the independent self sufficient woman that I believed I was. With my limited vocabulary and comprehension I have a hard time articulating what I feel, need, want and don’t want. My family believes I am a young child who does not know the ways of the world. So when it came to bathing, I most certainly needed supervision.
It had been 8 days since my last bath. You might be disgusted to read this but let me assure you it is not all that bad. Being in the cold, I do not sweat and the thought of taking off layers of clothing to change sounds torturous. Towards the 7th day however you do begin to feel a little itchy. So on the 7th night, after dinner I mentioned to my host mother how I was going to go to the Hammam (public baths) the next day. Assured that I would catch a cold if I go, she insisted I bathe at home. I agreed and so the next morning I woke up to find that the living room was converted into the bathing room. The carpets were removed and a large metal bucket of water was placed on the wood stove. I was instructed to remove my cloths and sit in the plastic blue bucket near the stove.
I did as I was told, the same procedures as the Hammam. Undress and take everything off except for your underwear. So I did and I sat in the bucket, not yet warm from the water. My host mother wanted to stay in the room with me so as I undressed as she was sitting on the sofa watching me and instructing me how to mix the hot and cold water in the surrounding buckets to make it the right temperature.
So there I was, naked in the bucket. We had the television on and watched French cartoons, a language which we both do not understand. I am becoming less embarrassed about a lot of things and public bathing with my host mother is one of those things I have now come to accept. She does a great job scrubbing my back and I always leave feeling clean. What more can you ask for.