Arab Bath
“I am stunned by the pleasure of these baths,
For it seems as if the celestial sphere were here”
— Ibn Suhayd
While asking for my room key at the reception desk, Xavier asked me if I had been at the Arab Bath.” Senhorita , he says, “you’ll feel so relaxed you should try it!” . I asked for the address, apparently in a small street between Caille Aire de Dios and an old tobacco factory I would find the Arab bath house and teteria called Aire de Sevilla.
I decide to follow his advice, it’s six o clock in the evening and still terribly hot, a small break should not do me bad. As I start walking my way out of the plaza Santa Maria Blanca, an intense aroma of Sandalwood and Cloves catches my attention followed by a cloud of dense smoke in my direction coming afar from the caille Aire de Dios. Without hesitation, I allow my guiding spirit through the intensity of the the scented smoke until a large wooden door presents herself imperiously in front of my humble eyes, leading me to a large entrance gate into an interior of shadowing blinding light and roofless court.
I stumble between an arid stone floor and my iPod wires already in a mess by now, staring at the space like if I could not believe what I was seeing. The incense of sandalwood that brought me here still burns intensely in the floor on top of a paved fountain. Sanctuary, hiding Mecca, or one thousand two hundred meters Mirage, this small palace called Aire de Sevilla built in the sixteen century by a viceroy from the Indies, is a treat for all senses.
I am asked what I would like to do, my answer is everything. I am handed a piece of paper with all the rules, prices, services and cordially invited to have a drink with pastries at the teteria upstairs while the sound of a Sufi flute in the background melodiously evokes my senses reminding me of Kama Sutra practice at all levels. (Joelle’s suggested sexy literature)
I am expecting here in Seville a Italian friend who I haven’t seen since I was a young girl at early age and thought It would be nice to impress him with Arab Baths rituals, appearing as, if after all, I have become a grown up woman that knows her way around. But honestly, it would be a better idea to test this place first by myself.
I am finally called inside, asked to take away my clothes off, wear a bathing suit and special slippers not to slide in the wet floors.Then while given a key for my locker at the Al- Bayt Al-Maslakh, (Apothiderium in Rome or changing room), were running water already takes its course to exactly I don’t know for now, where I am attentively listening to quick explanation in Spanish of the suggested itinerary within the three mysterious subterranean floors of treated water, treasures of for Greco- Roman and Muslim legacies with the sole intent of acquiring spirit recreation and eternal skin rejuvenation.
My first stop as advised is in the minus one floor of the hammam, the Al- Bayt Al Watsami (the Romans used to call it Tiepidarium, literally the intermediate room) if its easier for the reader to understand were the water is at a 36 degrees equivalent to body temperatures who haven’t suffered from the Sevillian heat .We were told that the time spent in this enormous bath is as we please, a few couples hold hands, nobody can run or swim. Morrocan laterns and tea lite candles are lit everywhere spreading an atmosphere of enchantment and sublime dream.
Some time has passed, I decide to walk the waters towards Al Bayt Al Sahun, or Caldarium bath. The water here is so hot, but I don’t seem to mind it, at this point already I feel nothing but endless surrender to the hot room rested on brick columns above a chamber containing a furnace heating the floor under my feet. I dream of El Cid, prince Saladin, of the elegant flamenco dancer I watched last night at Casa de la memoria Sefaradi, when a pretty young girl by my side with a warm smile reminds me in Spanish , that I must not forget to dip into the waters of Al-Bayt Al Barid, ( the Roman Frigidarium) for at least five minutes before my blood pressure drops.
Here I am, the Madawi, small star shaped highlights made of stone pottery, pierce the vault of the red and multicolored stucco wall of this freezing Al Barid bath.The blood runs through my veins and race for this to end like a rebellious Arab horse. I repeat three times the hot-cold immersion and head to a powerful shower in minus two floor before entering a white nebulous steam room with an strong aroma of Eucalyptus vapor spinning around everywhere making an almost unbearable noise. I sense the presence of other humans in the room but everything is too white and the mist can be compared to the one of a medieval Avalon . Time : fifteen minutes
The next stage after the intermediate powerful shower is a jacuzzi in a geometrical shape with Bizantyne mosaics on the walls, the best is that there is a special device that throws water to your neck and back with tremendous pressure.The last destination is on floor minus three, for those who do not have claustrophobia it is the soothing. A salt treated water bath surrounded by Roman Style columns at room temperature softens my skin and prepares me for what is heaven on earth at floor one. Going back to the changing room, I am can helping myself with spiced South African red tea, whose qualities are known to be an antidote for depression , and sweet pastries ,while water still runs under my feet and a warm towels wraps my already purified body in desperate wait to be thrown under a massage of expert and strong hands embedded with inviting aromatic oils.
They say in Brazil, God is Brazilian, but trust me Allah knew what he was doing when he created Andalusia and its Arab Baths.
Salam Aleikum
(May peace be with you)
This post is dedicated to a person that like a mysterious wind on a warm Arab night secretly came back into my life.
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