Letter from Hungary: soaking in the history in the bathhouses of

Budapest
For two millennia the citizens of Budapest have nursed a passion for bathing. Far beneath them, in
geological fault lines, is a watery cauldron, the source for over 120 thermal springs whose temperatures
range from warm to scalding. These waters have produced an obsession. It began as a pursuit of health.
It quickly became a pursuit of pleasure.
In Budapest the bathhouse is to the inhabitants what the pub is to the English or the coffee house is to
inhabitants of American sitcoms. Stripped off and immersed in communal pools, they come to meet
friends, to chat, to read the papers, to play chess, to catch up on the gossip. Rather than a couple of
beers or a skinny latte and a blueberry muffin, there are steam chambers, hot pools and a vigorous
masseur.
Some people kick-start their day in the bathhouse. Others come after work to unwind. For others still it
is the mid-afternoon pick-me-up. I bought a swimming cap, a pair of flip-flops and bath towel, and set
off into the citys waterworld.
In the vaulted entry halls of the Rudas baths at the bottom of Buda hill, I passed through the turnstiles
where a white-coated attendant handed me a key and small white apron. The key was for a locker
where I left my clothes; the apron was to wear in the bath. It was a fetching garment which just covered
ones privates while leaving the buttocks exposed. Feeling a trifle self-conscious in what could be
mistaken for a male strippers costume, I proceeded into the main baths, pausing first for the
obligatory shower.In the central chamber I seemed to slip through a time warp, perhaps to Rome in the
The Middle Ages was a time when
Europeans and soap and water
were strangers. Isabella of
Castille only bathed twice in her
life, once before her wedding
night and again before her
coronation.
1st century AD. Clouds of steam parted to reveal men strolling about
in their toga-like aprons. An eerie mix of sounds voices, water
dripping and splashing, and flesh being slapped echoed beneath
the dome above us from where pinpoint shafts of light slanted
through the steam. In the large central pool I stretched out in water
that was blood temperature. It was deliciously soothing.
It was the Romans who began the tradition of medicinal thermal
baths in Budapest. Arthritis sufferers from all over the empire came
to bathe in Budapest. But the Romans soon realized there was more
to bathing than medicinal cures. The slow rituals of hot and cold
water, of massage rooms and steam chambers, were a pleasure in
themselves, and that pleasure was deemed central to physical and mental well-being. The Romans built
eleven bathhouses in the city they called Acquincum.
When the Huns invaded they neglected the plumbing, and bathing in
Budapest fell into one of its periodic declines. The Middle Ages was
generally a time when Europeans and soap and water were strangers.
Isabella of Castille was able to boast in her old age that she had only
bathed twice in her life, once before her wedding night and again before
her coronation.
It was the Turks who reintroduced serious bathing to Budapest. For them cleanliness really was next to
godliness. They conquered the city in the 16th century and remained for over 150 years, plenty of time
to build elaborate bathhouses and encourage the locals to join them for a hot soak. Three of Budapests
most important bathhouses are Turkish buildings, and still in use: the Kiraly, the Racs, and the Rudas.
The following day I checked into the Gellert Baths, one of the citys grandest creations. Opened in 1927,
the building there is an adjoining hotel is an Art Nouveau masterpiece. The domes, the mosaics,
the colored skylights, the statues of nymphs, the fountains trickling, the shafts of light slanting, the
strange aqueous acoustics, all conspire to lull you into a kind of watery trance. There is the sense the
world has slowed to half speed among the gentle murmur of voices and the soft lap of water. My
thoughts drifted with the steam, going nowhere in particular. The Gellert was like one of those
congenial cafes where you sit over your half empty cup watching the world go by. Except here the world
was in bathing suits.
There were other things to see in Budapest the Danube, the Royal Palace, the medieval streets of
Buda, the crazed drinking habits of the descendants of the Huns but an hour later, I had hardly
stirred. The baths were becoming my drug, and I was becoming addicted.
It helped that the Gellert baths were mixed the presence of women seemed to lighten the atmosphere
and I was happy to exchange the apron for a normal bathing suit. The next morning I set off for
another mixed bathhouse, the Szechenyi Baths, perhaps the most famous, certainly the most
photographed, in the city. I emerged from the Metro in the Varosliget, or the City Park. The grand
yellow facade of the bathhouse loomed through the autumn trees, a palace of bathing, a multi-domed
neo-baroque creation built at the beginning of the 20th century with the overblown architectural
aspirations of the 19th.
In the two inside pools shafts of sunlight fell from high windows onto the bathers upturned faces. But
most people were outside in the courtyard. Szerchenyis outdoor pools are to bathing what La Scala is
to opera. This is bathings grandest setting, an amphitheatre of colonnades and statuary and terraces
surrounding a central swimming pool and two large thermal pools. Here, even in the depths of winter,
as snow settles in the crevices of the statues, ardent bathers are to be found in the steaming water.
I settled into the 100-degree pool, beneath the statue of a naked woman getting carried away with a
swan, and felt the tension in my limbs uncoil. All around the pool other bathers lounged like hippos,
only their head and shoulders protruding from the steaming water. Some read newspapers. One man
was deep in a Russian novel. Another was smoking a pipe. A young couple lay entwined while at the far
end an older couple seemed to be discussing their divorce. A group of men had gathered round two
fellows playing chess on a floating board.
For the rest of us we gazed dreamily into the middle distance in the warm embrace of the waters. We
might be strangers but we had found a curious communality. We were having a bath together, and it
had come to seem the most natural thing in the world.
Travel Notes
Where to Stay: For location it is difficult to beat K+K Opera Hotel (+36 1 269 0222) next to the
opera house and one block from Andrassy utca, the centre of the best restaurant, bar and cafes district
of Budapest. Two nights from $230. Or rent an apartment from $40 a night from one of many
agencies; try www.budapestapartmentsincenter.com or call +36 30 830 6506.
Where to Eat: The best restaurant in town is Klassz almost opposite the opera house on 41 Andrassy
utca. Try the duck breast with grilled foie gras, caramelised apple served with a delicate risotto at just
over $10. They dont take reservations.
Where to Drink: Budapest is full of grand central European coffee houses, all mirrors and gilt and
aproned waiters. The Central (235 0599) in Karoly Mihaly utca and the Gerloczy (253 0953) in
Gerloczy uta are both atmospheric places for a coffee and a pastry, or for a full meal. At the other end of
the scale are the funky bars like Ellato at 2 Klauzal ter or the Siraly (957 2291) at 50 Kiraly utca, where
the clientele is bohemian, friendly and young.
Getting Around: To rent a bike contact Budapest Bike at + 36 30 944 5533. You can also find them at
the Szda cafe at 18 Wesselenyi Street. Standard bikes are about $15 a day. They also offer guided pub
crawls, lasting about 4 hours, from about $30.
Further Information: Budapest, Eyewitness Travel (Dorling Kindersley, $25) is very good as is
Budapest (Time Out Guides, $19.95)
The Bathhouses: Admission prices vary but are rarely more than $8. At most baths your ticket is
usually checked as you leave and you are given a small refund if you have stayed less than a certain
length of time. All offer a range of extra treatments, from massage to pedicure, for an extra fee. Visit
www.spasbudapest.com for prices, hours and other info.
Stanley Stewart has written three award-winning travel books Old Serpent Nile, Frontiers of
Heaven, and In the Empire of Genghis Khan. He is also the recipient of numerous awards for his
magazine and newspaper articles. He was born in Ireland, grew up in Canada, and now divides his
time between Rome and Dorset.
[Photos: Flickr | Omar A.; schepop; schepop; awluter; Yuen-Ping aka YP]