| Spain |
| Revival
Of Arab Baths |
| by Richard Robinson |
| In the shadow
of the fabulous Alhambra palace, El Bañuelo survives as an empty
shell, the last Arab bath in Granada. The rich carving and tiling, the
hot running water have long gone, but shafts of sunlight fire through star-shaped
openings in the vaulted roof, creating a shadow-play among the silent pillars,
the arches and the bare stone walls. In Moorish times in Al-Andalus (the
name given to the Moorish dominions in Spain) there was a bath on every
street, gurgling with steaming water, crowded with the devout going about
their ablutions.
The city of
Córdoba alone could boast 600 public baths in its 11th-century heyday.
After the Moorish cities fell to the Christians the baths were closed down
or demolished but now, more than 500 years on, a modest revival is gaining
momentum. |
|
|
|
|
|
| Here in Granada,
just along the lane from El Bañuelo and over the hump of the old
stone “Bridge of the Goatherd” stands the vaguely Moorish-looking
church of Santa Ana. Just behind on a street barely wide enough for a car,
a commercial company called Grupo Al-Andalus opened the modern equivalent,
the Baños Árabes back in 1998. Such was the success of the
enterprise, they have opened more Baños Árabes in other Spanish
cities. A lapse of five centuries has, it seems, released a pent-up demand.
On a wet winter’s day my wife Viv and I went to find out what it was all
about.
Although
it is tucked away at the edge of the busy city centre, this particular
part of Granada felt to us as exotically Moorish as The Arabian Nights.
For a start there was the Alhambra itself, an arabesque citadel, its palaces
and battlements rising romantically above the wooded ridge. Behind us was
the old Moorish residential quarter of the Albaicín, on a hillside
that faced the Alhambra across the narrow Darro Valley. Among its chaotic
tangle of alleys and stairways were water cisterns, secret gardens and
hidden doorways. We were staying there, in one of the former grand residences
that had been converted to a hotel. Ours, inside, was like a little Alhambra
palace, with a tinkling fountain, chiselled stone archways and a huge underground
storage jar (every home had one) called an aljibe. |
|
|
| We were planning
to explore the full extent of Granada’s eastern promise with a visit, tomorrow,
to the new Arab baths.
To the Moors
of Granada cleanliness was next to godliness while, to the Christians of
those distant days, the reverse applied. Baths to them were somehow lascivious
and immoral. The traveler and writer Richard Ford observed in the 1830s
that: “Isabella, the favourite daughter of Phillip II… made a solemn
vow never to change her shift until Ostend was taken. The siege lasted
three years, three months and thirteen days. The royal garment acquired
a tawny colour, which was called Isabel by the courtiers…”.
It was zealous,
determined griminess of this sort that had formed the backdrop to the smashing
of the baths and the expulsions of the fragrant Moors in the early 16th-century. |
|
|
Offshore Resources Gallery
|
|
|
| It was an
uncharacteristically damp morning, the cobbles were wet and shiny and the
ramparts of the Alhambra bristled with coloured umbrellas. Our short walk
was beside the River Darro, whose swollen waters rushed through grassy
banks. From a high window, a man in a dressing gown flung bread to the
stray cats and the ducks on the bank, who competed for the available scraps
without apparent animosity.
“A fiesta
for the senses”, that’s what Grupo Al-Andalus promised, and the pamphlet
pretty close to the mark. We both changed into our swimsuits in the communal
vestibule of Baños Arabes, then went through the steamy, scented
vaults to the baths themselves, where we soaked along with a small group
of mixed nationality. The company was cautiously convivial, and members
would break away in ones and twos, to amble lethargically from hot pool
to cold plunge, to return later, more briskly.
Through the
vapour our surroundings were convincingly Moorish – the star-shaped occuli
in the vaulted ceiling (though in this case with artificial lights);
the patterned azulejo tiles, stencilled fretwork, white marble fountains
and intricately-carved archways. It was another little Alhambra, this one
with steam – and masseuses. |
|
|
| Here was the
most relaxing bit. After alternating hot and cold soaks, each of us in
turn enjoyed a chiropractic rub-down at the skilled hands of one of the
resident lady manipulators. We left after our two-hour session feeling
pampered and thoroughly relaxed. The manager, Gerardo Checa, later showed
us around the premises. The buildings on either side were being effectively
rebuilt, to extend the baths. “Nothing here is straightforward” he smiled.
“For instance we cannot get a crane in, the street is far too narrow. And
we could not begin any building work until the archaeologists had finished
a thorough investigation”.
The early success
of these Baños Árabes was such that they were being tripled
in size. Gerardo showed us to the panoramic restaurant that was also scheduled
for enlargement. A Hispano-Muslim menu included such dishes as rabbit with
Almohad sauce (Almohad was a fundamentalist sect of Moors, as I recalled),
eggplant with honey and partridges with chestnuts. |
|
|
Offshore
Resources Gallery
|
| Then Gerardo
showed us a warren-like succession of rooms furnished in Ottoman style
which were, he said, the tetería, or tea rooms. Infusions and juices
were served here, often to the accompaniment of authentic live music, or
traditional story-telling. “Tonight we have a belly-dancer”, he said.
Why don’t you come along?”
In a lofty
chamber beneath an iron lantern, a faintly Bohemian crowd squatted
on low stools and pouffes arranged around the margins. A couple of kids
were trying to grab the goldfish in the fountain, their mother in a French-resistance
beret was smoking, unconcerned. We sipped mint tea served in a silver teapot
and small glasses. Through a curtain I could glimpse the performer practising
her moves in the kitchen. The lights dimmed, the taped music turned up
and a dumpy, pretty girl swayed into our salon in a swirl of taffeta, a
blur of quivering flesh and knowing looks.
As if this
were not enough exotic entertainment, we discovered that on the final
day of our stay in Granada, a concert of Sephardic music was to be given
in the old vaults of El Bañuelo. The Sephardim were the Jews who
co-existed with the Moors in Spain until the Inquisition and the expulsions
in the late 15th-century, when they fled to North Africa and Turkey.
It was a well-patronised event and the venue was already full when we arrived.
We joined a group of hopefuls at the door and, after a while heard the
iron bolts being drawn to let us in. We could listen from the adjoining
chamber, we were told. There in the bare vault we heard the plaintive voice,
the accompanying lute, filling the dry, ancient bath house with songs of
unfulfilled love, and of yearning for a lost homeland.
Information
Sidebar
Grupo Al-Andalus
(+34 958 203 038, www.grupoalandalus.com
) opened their first Arab Bath in Granada in 1998. Such was its success
they created a much larger one in Córdoba three years later and
a third showpiece establishment in Madrid. The price of the full bath plus
massage service is €19.00 in Granada, €22 in Córdoba and
€24 in Madrid.
Legado Andalusi
(+34 958 225 995 www.legadoandalusi.es
) is a consortium that is reviving and developing the Hispano-Muslim legacy
of Andalucía by publishing books and by designing cultural itineraries
for travelers.
Casa Morisca
Hotel, (+34 958 221 100,
http://www.charming-spain-hotels.com/hotel/103 ) Luxury 14-room hotel
under the gaze of the Alhambra, in a restored Moorish house that dates
from the late 15th century. €40 double.
Richard
Robinson is a UK-based travel writer, specialising in Andalucía
in southern Spain. For information, walks, accommodation etc. in Priego
de Córdoba and the Sierra Subbetica, visit his website: www.rural-andalucia.co.uk/ |
|
Article
Index ~ Spain
Index ~ |
