The Gentrification of Lavapiés
December 11, 2017
The autumn air bites as people mill about Madrid’s Lavapiés neighborhood in mid-November. “They call this place ‘la playa’” (in English, ‘the beach’) explains Bill Myers, a California native, former journalist, and Lavapiés resident for 30 years. He motions down the road with his hand before lighting a cigarette with the other. His English words are familiar amidst murmurs of Spanish, French, Mandarin, and Bengali. “There are many sidewalk cafes, so the young people like to come out here and drink.”
In the late 1980s and into the 1990s, around the time Myers first arrived in the neighborhood, Lavapiés was known around Madrid as a kind of slum; its tenement blocks were abandoned or occupied by older people who could only afford to pay low rents. This made the area popular for squatters, which in turn made it quite dangerous for a time.
James Turner, a Chicago native and English professor as a foreign language, first got to the neighborhood in the height of this turmoil. “One night when I was coming back from town, I was jumped by about five or six guys right outside my flat. A week later, it happened again.”
Turner mentions that he was likely targeted because he was considered an “outsider,” for it was nearly entirely Spaniards who were living there at the time. Myers echoes the sentiment, offering that he “was the odd one out back then” when he arrived in 1984. Less than 10 years later, outsiders would not only be prevalent in Lavapiés, but they’d actually define the neighborhood.
From the 1990s into the 2000s, Lavapiés became an immigrant community – which it is widely known as today – when Senegalese, Chinese, Bangladeshis, Indians and many more minorities began moving in for low cost housing.
A walk down Calle de Tribulete exhibits the wonders of this multicultural land. A halal food place – ‘carnicería halal’ – stands adjacent to an Egyptian artisan shop – ‘artesania egipcia’ – and an Arabic pastelería which sells traditional Arabic desserts. The word “Salamät,” an Arabic greeting, is written on the storefront sign.
For Madrileñas and tourists alike, the neighborhood is becoming an increasingly desirable place to live and visit for the vibrant art and food scene, not to mention its location not far from the famed Reina Sofía Museum and the weekend flea market El Rastro. New businesses are opening in the area, property values are increasing, and many people who were originally drawn to Lavapiés for its affordability are being forced out.
One example of these changes is the “Pum Pum Café,” which serves a medley of different dishes that fall short of complementing the immigrant fabric of the neighborhood - the most exotic dish on the menu is the shakshuka, which is too often overlooked by the “Benedict Pum Pum” and “The Veggie Burger” - things that are normally hard to come by in Spain, but were nearly non-existent in the country just ten years ago. Amongst the immigrant shops with familiar signs in foreign alphabets, the hipster-trendy café is disguised as a neighborhood staple when it might as well be a Park Slope transplant, sticking out like a sore thumb.
A group of young American students stand outside in the crisp air, chatting excitedly with their hands in their pockets as they wait for an open table. With just about ten tables inside, there is almost always a short waiting list at the café; yet very few people inside are residents of the area. The students speak excitedly in English; passers-by can catch bits of their conversation – “did they say how much longer the wait would be?”
As a result of this shift, the multicultural richness of the neighborhood is being threatened. In some ways, the gentrification is beneficial; it brings money into the neighborhood, which should put money into the pockets of the residents. In reality, however, it’s destructive. With the cost of living rising in Lavapiés, the area is at risk of losing the immigrant population that makes it one of the most visited and diverse neighborhoods in the world.
At the end of the street is Restaurante Bar Universidad, a popular local bar that is “frequented by Morrocans and Spanish and owned by a Chinese couple” according to Myers. A Chinese man behind the bar greets Myers in perfect Spanish – “buenas tardes, Bill!” A Spaniard at a nearby table sees Myers and stands up to embrace him. They are old friends.
The two entertain some friendly small-talk for a few minutes. This is a typical scene in Lavapiés - friends of vastly different cultures and backgrounds chatting in Spanish: their second if not third or fourth language. Myers, who is well-known in the neighborhood, attests to the fact that behind the great diversity is a real sense of community. “People care about each other here - and it is very notable considering how large the immigrant population is. It is a special place.”
Turner agrees. “Anthropologists from all over the world come to Lavapiés to study the neighborhood. People can tell you about how wonderful the immigrant community is here, but there is nothing like actually being able to experience it.”
Now that the neighborhood is becoming gentrified, locals find themselves on both sides of the issue.
Just around the corner from the bar is Mercado de San Fernando, originally a traditional Madrileña fish market that is now a bustling hub of multi-ethnic foods and goods. Started in 1944, the market was where many locals did much of their grocery shopping; when supermarkets came along, traditional markets such as this suffered.
Tito Aiza, a Madrid native, has been working at the market for 42 years. When asked about the tourists coming into the neighborhood, Aiza explained that he “likes the tourists because they bring money.” And he is not wrong. Without tourists and young people coming to these authentic Spanish markets, the markets, and Aiza himself, would not be able to survive. It is one of the last markets of its kind in Lavapiés. Aiza recognizes that these kinds of things come with a price, however. “It’s difficult. [The tourists and young people] bring money into the neighborhood, but rising costs are problematic for many people here.”
One local café, La Libre, exhibits gentrification of the area that manages to not totally reject the immigrant flavor of the neighborhood. While the café is brand new to the area, is frequented by many tourists and young visitors, and looks a lot more like the Pum Pum Café than an authentic immigrant food shop, the café exemplifies the wonders that can come from mixing a little bit of the old with a little bit of the new.
Shelves of secondhand books in Spanish, German, Arabic, Chinese, and French, among others, line the walls, mirroring the many cultures of Lavapiés; Spaniards, visitors, locals, and people of several different backgrounds chat casually in their native languages over a cup of the house coffee.
The owner of the café is a Lavapiés resident herself and a Madrid native. When probed about the gentrification the area has seen recently, she is hopeful. “These types of changes are natural and inevitable. Lavapiés was not always an immigrant neighborhood. And people were once very upset about it becoming one. Now that we are seeing another shift, people are upset again. But these things are part of history, and are part of what makes areas like this exciting. Lavapiés is not stagnant; it is alive.”