If you have seen pictures of the outside of Taze Bey, multiply it by ten and you get an idea of the inside. If you’re a man (no women allowed), put this on the list of must-visit places in Baku. As hamams go, I’ve seen better. As experiences go, this won’t be replicated. The decoration reminded me of mid-range restaurants from the 80s decorated from garage sales. And maybe that’s where this stuff came from — when those places went out of business, the owners took to EBay. Maybe Taze Bey picked this stuff up on the dollar rack of EBay. Most of it was in English. Taze Bay is actually quite old, dating the late 1800s, it was renovated around 30 years ago and that’s when most of the decorating was done. Much of the decoration was some form of statue — some Roman or Greek, others more contemporary, but they were everywhere. License plates were also prominently featured along with pictures of scantily clad women, and just about any tasteless relic you can think of — I don’t think anyone can conclusively say it’s not there.
I spent about $80 for about two and a half hours. My sequence through the hamam was as follows: (1) toilet, (2) pedicure, (3) shower, (4) sauna, (5) cold plunge, (6) sauna, (7) wait in the bar, (8) peel, (9) wait in a different bar, (10) massage, (11) steam room and beatdown with branches, (12) even colder plunge, (11) scrub.
I mention the toilet only because it was so fucking bizarre. It should be noted that every somewhat even surface in this place that wasn’t used for walking had some sort of gaudy something or another on it and the bathroom was no exception. The decor of the stall (white toilet, black seat) was mostly pictures of scantily clad women. There were also old license plates and various other mementos. There was also a telephone with a sign in three languages, the English said “Local.” There was a bidet. Mounted approximately at toilet paper height was a little holster or pocket protector thing. In it were individual cigarettes. Smoking is a thing in Azerbaijan and a theme running through the decorating here was ashtrays with cigarette butts next to no smoking signs.
The Taze Bey Hamam is more regimented than other hamans. It is not an open affair where you wander from sauna to cold plunge to steam room at your own pace and avail yourself of the services you please. They tell you where to go and when to go there.
The shower was a shower and the last normal place I would be in a while. I don’t know why the shower wasn’t decorated, or maybe I was just too preoccupied searching for a towel to notice.
You enter the pedicure room by descending a steep, narrow staircase and go through saloon doors. This room is decorated by pictures of scantily clad women, a rather intricate inlaid wood piece of naked women in a sauna beating each other with branches, a sign with a silhouette of a naked woman with hands reaching for her. The sign had the red circle and bar and said, “You can look but don’t touch.”
I’m not sure why I needed to be naked, wearing only a towel for a pedicure, but I guess it’s not about me. I think she did a fine job with the pedicure while listening to the farm report on Russia 1. There was a foot soak and nail maintenance followed by sanding my feet. My feet have finely finished into something resembling 00 sandpaper with a few ridges built in by years of wearing Birkenstocks without socks. This woman used several different tools to smooth the skin and file down the ridges to where my feet are smooth to the touch. Where before the bottoms of my feet were perfect for scratching any itch they could reach, now I will have to wear my hiking boots for that service. I have to say, my nails do look better than they have in a long time.
The sauna was kind of a mask theme, though further back the masks changed to wooden buckets and ladles. The first thing you notice when entering the sauna is the smell. Menthol. They had somehow infused the dry heat with menthol, so it was kind of like being in the Vicks room, except it was a dry heat. The menthol permeating every cubic inch of the environment causes your skin to sting and tingle. As sweat wells up on your skin from the sauna, the intensity of the tingle is magnified. So, I made myself a nice little spot to lay out of a couple of towels to protect me from the hot wooden bench and lay down and closed my eyes. I opened my eyes a few minutes later to discover that the entire ceiling of the sauna was covered with masks — African, weird pirate-like guys, and caucasian. My eyes were drawn to one caucasian mask in particular. Its eyes were closed and his mouth was open. He bore a striking resemblance to Donald Trump — not what you want to see when you’re wearing only a plaid towel. My next trip through the sauna, I would opt for the comfort of the buckets.
The cold pool next to the sauna wasn’t bad. It’s kind of refreshing to plunge into cold water after a sauna. This was as normal as a bunch of naked men in a cold pool can be. The decorations in here was mostly gold statues, some were fountains spitting water into the pool, some were not. Most were naked or partially naked women. There was one cowboy, a gun and holster had been added for authenticity. Oh yes, and many plastic skeletons were hung from the ceiling.
The peel and scrub area consisted of multiple stations. Each station consisted of a marble sarcophagus for you to lay down on and water hoses. The man who would be peeling or scrubbing you was clad in a plaid towel. The rest of the room mostly was decorated in gold statues. Two, one a partially clothed Greek woman and the other a Victorian woman carrying flowers were used to stack spare towels on their heads. Peeling was done between the sauna and massage and scrubbing was done at the end. During the peel, the guy in the plaid towel made it a point of showing me how much of my skin he had removed. I think he was implying that it was a lot and that I needed to come in more often for a buff. The scrub involved using some substance with pumice in it to really clean the body.
The massage was a fairly normal massage though done in a basement room decorated with scantily clad women and carried out on a marble sarcophagus.
I don’t really recall how the steam room was decorated as it was steamy and dark. The steam room though is where they beat you branches, this being full service, there is actually a guy who does the beating for you. And beat he did. Back, front, sides, arms, legs. And when he’s done, he reaches behind him and picks up a pan of cold water and throws it in your face. Then he does it again. And again. Only the first one is a though.
Right next to the steam room is cold plunge room. This one is different than the other. It is in a subbasement and is really, really cold. The water level comes up the stairs, so you have to disrobe before entering (there’s a nude descending stairs joke here but I’m too lazy to make it.) This tub takes up the entire room and is also a whirlpool. I lasted well less than a minute here as my ankles began to ache from the cold.
So, the Taze Bey was not my favorite hamam from a usage experience, but the visual shouldn’t be missed.