We need a bath. Not in an Irish way of needing a bath - but in a Moroccan way of needing one. We have been travelling for weeks in the hot, arid landscape and looking for Painted Lady caterpillars on the sides of dusty, dirty Moroccan roads. On top of that we have been staying in budget hotels where the washing facilities are variable (one shower, for example, threatened to explode when you turned on the hot water!). So although we are clean to look at from a distance (we did use the exploding shower but had the briefest shower ever) - don't look too close! As we are now back in Taroudant (I explain why in the next post) we feel as if we have come home and might even be brave enough to try going to the hammam. A hammam is the communal washing facility used by communities who have very little water. But for Irish people it sounds a little like torture. Stephen is reluctant but since Oisin is the most in the need of a wash and absolutely hates showers (Moroccan bathrooms don't have baths) - it's a necessity for the boys to go.

The male and female hammams are separate but in this case the entrances are side by side. Our host and friend, Said, brings us to the entrance. He helps us to buy a scrubbing mit (which looks worryingly like a pot scrubber) and some Moroccan black soap. He speaks briefly in Arabic to a man who leads Stephen and Oisin into the men's hammam. He then greets the lady at the entrance to the women's hammam and we are led in, unsure of what to expect. The lack of language and the nakedness make us quite nervous!

The first room is just like a changing room of any swimming pool - not too scary. Lily Kate and I undress to our knickers and feel a little exposed. A large, almost naked lady beckons us into the next room which has lots of women and children washing each other. And then we get beckoned further into another, hotter, steamier room and then another. At this stage Lily Kate is having a nervous breakdown. I'm not sure whether she it is the heat, steam, water, nakedness, staring, or simply the unknown that she is finding difficult. In the meanwhile, the large, naked lady is waiting for me. Lily Kate clings to the entrance to the inner room and finally agrees to sit on a little ledge while I get cleaned with the pot scrubber. Surprisingly it all feels very normal. Everybody is so relaxed that I automatically relax too and then Lily Kate gives in to the informal atmosphere. Rolls of dead skin are scrapped off and it feels great to get squeaky clean. The women use buckets of warm water to wash off the soap and Lily Kate happily copies what the other women are doing. When we leave the inner rooms we are absolutely, without doubt, 100% clean. In fact, I don't think I've ever been so clean in my life. Back in the changing rooms, we are the free entertainment. Our every move is closely watched.

I wonder how the boys are getting on. With Stephen's huge reluctance and Oisin's phobia of showers, I reckon they must have been out before us. On arriving back to our Said's guesthouse I am surprised that the boys are still not back. When they do finally arrive, I am not surprised to hear that Oisin point blank refused to go past the changing room. While Stephen thoroughly enjoyed the experienced and not only got scrubbed by a rotund, semi-naked Moroccan but also got a massage! While Stephen was being buffed and polished, Oisin was being entertained by a variety of half-naked men in the changing rooms! I am relieved to hear that Stephen's scrubber did get Oisin partially cleaned. Oh well - I suppose it will be one long bath for Oisin once he gets back to Ireland!