The hamam, or Turkish bath, in all of its simplicity and humble origins, has earned itself the caché of glamour, sophistication and hedonistic self-indulgence.

The Turkish bath is essentially an open steam room with a heated marble platform at the center. The usually octagonal structure is lined with marble basins and often adorned with ornate copper fixtures, and there are attendants to introduce you to a hint of what living in the harem might have been like. A trip to a hamam may, if you so desire, include a washing, scrubbing, exfoliating and massage (often like a clumsy rubdown), and no matter how sore your knees are at the end of a typical hour, your skin is guaranteed to be fresh, bright and squeaky clean, all for the moderately inflated price of about 25 YTL (unless you're availing yourself of the more luxurious 5 star hotel hamam).

In Istanbul, the three most visited hamams are popular more for the history and architecture than for the perfunctory (and sometimes painful) service.

Çemberlitas Hamami (off of Divanyolu at the Column of Constantine, Tel. 212/522-7974, open daily from 6am-midnight with separate sections), was built from a design by the master Ottoman builder Sinan. Down the street is the 18th century Cagaloglu Hamami (Yerebatan Caddesi at Ankara Caddesi, Tel. 212/522-2424, open daily men: 7am-10pm; women: 8-8), whose claim to fame includes the exposed genitalia of Franz Liszt, Edward VIII, Kaiser Wilhelm and Florence Nightingale. The Galatasaray Hamami (in Beyoglu, down an alley off of Istiklal Caddesi next to the gate to the Galatasaray High School, Tel. 212/249-4342, open men: 5am-midnight; women: 8-8) was built by Beyazit II as part of the Galata Sarayi school complex.

If you think you're being clever by visiting one of the local, more "authentic" hamams, take note that many of the Turks that I know have never stepped foot in an "old, musty hamam." While I do give preference to the more pristine hotel hamams, I admit a fondness for modest and unpresuming local digs. But be forwarned: these are rarely as pristine as one would like, especially in Istanbul. Also, a couple of these cater to the gay crowd.

The main question I get from people (mostly women) regarding their visit to a Turkish bath regards whether or not they should have completely disrobed. This is obviously a personal choice. In larger hamams, where male and female sections are separate and the attendants are gender appropriate, I go the full Monty. In smaller hamams, where there is one male attendant for all visitors, I wear a swimsuit, or do a self-scrub. Many hamams, particularly those operated by the larger hotels, have coed times; I shared a hamam and steam room once with a naked German guy in Antalya and have never been able to get that image out of my head. In any case, you can wrap yourself in a linen cloth, called a pestamel, to get you from your locker to the hot room.