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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. 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. 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?”
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.
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