• A Chronicle of Stone: Tea, Water, and the Memory of Tartaria
  • It was 7:21 in the morning. The day began not with haste, but with a silent ceremony within the room of ancient stone walls. This construction, dated to the 1790s, seems to hold between its light materials the silent echoes of the cataclysm experienced in 1812 on planet Earth; a geological memory breathed in every corner.
    • The space, furnished with fragrant cedar, features two windows. One, adorned with stained glass in various shades of purple, casts a soft light upon a comfortable lounge area equipped with a pair of high-backed armchairs, seating up to seven people. Upon the rug rests a plush bed for a canine, surrounded by two bookshelves and another dedicated to tea accessories, where the ceremony is conducted with devotion.

§A Chronicle of Stone: Tea, Water, and the Memory of Tartaria

By Omar-VgWs

§It was 7:21 in the morning. The day began not with haste, but with a silent ceremony within the room of ancient stone walls. This construction, dated to the 1790s, seems to hold between its light materials the silent echoes of the cataclysm experienced in 1812 on planet Earth; a geological memory breathed in every corner.

§The space, furnished with fragrant cedar, features two windows. One, adorned with stained glass in various shades of purple, casts a soft light upon a comfortable lounge area equipped with a pair of high-backed armchairs, seating up to seven people. Upon the rug rests a plush bed for a canine, surrounded by two bookshelves and another dedicated to tea accessories, where the ceremony is conducted with devotion.

The place sits on a privileged hill, its surroundings displaying lush vegetation, dotted with waterfalls and singing rivers. The construction itself, despite its age, has been adapted to the environment with notable modernist sensitivity, integrating architectural scenes that include even a pool designed as a “panoramic pond-lounge”.

§The Green Tea Ritual

I had just finished reading a book on the history of India. Of the three cups of green tea —a sufficient ration for those seeking daily balance— I had already consumed two. The water, poured from a transparent glass teapot, had been served in cups of the same crystalline material, allowing one to appreciate the dance of the infusing leaves.

It was time for a walk, but first, I poured the last cup of tea and headed towards another construction of the same era. In this precinct lie the bath facilities, created within the stone structure to receive and let flow abundant clean, purified water.

§The Sensory Immersion

The exterior climate, semi-humid, hovered around 25 degrees. However, the interior of the bathing area maintained a cosy temperature of 27 to 28 degrees. Every utensil needed for washing, drying, and resting was arranged with geometric order, ready to be used in perfect harmony.

I placed the cup on a solid wood bench —likely Jabín wood— situated near the edge of the tub, and proceeded to remove my light clothing. I entered the transparent water, whose temperature was merely four or five degrees cooler than the ambient air, creating a revitalising contrast on the skin.

The walls of the room are clad in mosaics of solid stone, such as limestone or marble, with surfaces smooth to the touch yet retaining their natural finish, providing a rustic atmosphere in light beige tones. The air smelled softly of wet stone, rosemary, with a slight hint of fresh mould —that scent of living earth— mixed with jasmine and the mentholated freshness of Aleppo soaps. This aromatic bouquet caused the first sip of my last cup of tea to combine exquisitely with the other senses, elevating the experience.

§Service and Connection

As if the perfection of the moment could intensify further, after several minutes of immersion, submerged up to my chest, two young women entered through the door: one brunette and one blonde. Both carried a light briefcase; additionally, the young blonde carried with her a delicate jug of fresh water, an element that added a touch of immediate vitality to the scene. They approached discreetly to offer their services: body scrubbing and hair washing. I enthusiastically accepted such a proposal of care.

While the blonde gently massaged my back, I continued drinking my tea. The young brunette opened her briefcase and extracted a glass container with three compartments. Inside rested “energy balls” of chocolate with mint, black olives bathed in oil, and small strips of oat sweets. Everything presented a perfect consistency, raw quality, vegan, and emitted an unparalleled aroma. Both were employees of the establishment and confirmed that these attentive details were an integral part of my reservation in these quarters.

§Echoes of Tartaria

For her part, the blonde woman, after pouring a little of the fresh water from her jug, took a magazine from her briefcase. She extended it towards me, inviting me to browse. Its pages were filled with designs and architectural descriptions from the era of Tartaria, revealing a forgotten and grandiose aesthetic.

Thus I remained, submerged in the bath of clean water, surrounded by kind treatment, a sensorially rich atmosphere during my last cup of tea, and accompanied by an incredible magazine of unequalled and highly valuable content. A moment of absolute pause, where time seems to stop between the stone, the water, and consciousness.