Don’t get me wrong, I fancy them. I’d fancy a hamam right now in fact. Who wouldn’t want to be covered in black granules of deep-cleansing matter by a lady in Birkenstocks who then proceeds to rub and exfoliate you? The only issue I have with this is, well, the riad’s staff seem to already be doing so much for us: cleaning quietly in dark corners, supplying those lovely pastries whose names we can’t pronounce, fetching mint tea, etc.. So I suppose it’s only natural to feel pangs of guilt when they start to bathe you as well.