— Nan Sterman
After our group of enthusiastic garden travelers left Cordoba, Spain we went on to Seville.
We toured Seville’s historic old city on foot, then headed to the Alcazar, one of my favorite gardens in the world. These gardens also hugely influenced San Diego architect Richard Requa in his 1935 makeover of Balboa Park. The term “Alcazar,” by the way, refers to a Moorish fortress or palace.
Some of the Alacazar’s gardens are sunken, others stepped. Each is organized around a central axis that includes a tiled water feature, often at the intersections of pathways.
One beautiful Alcazar courtyard is planted entirely in orange trees. Others feature beds edged in boxwood that surround plants like bear’s breech, Agapanthus, and roses. One wall is draped in a two story tall Bougainvillea. Arbors drip with wisteria whose vines are as thick as tree trunks.
Over the next several days in Seville, we visited lushly planted public parks, elegant villas, and a city marketplace where snails are sold by the kilo (for eating, of course).
We headed towards Granada, stopping first in a tiny village called Niguelas. Our destination was an historic olive mill where for centuries, the villagers gathered to press their olives between the mill’s massive stones to make oil. Today, the mill is a museum.
We strolled through Niguelas’ lovely central garden, then walked along narrow streets to a 200 year old garden belonging to Senor Muller. To enter the garden, we stepped through a kelly green wooden door set in a broad whitewashed wall. It felt like walking into a movie set – but this was the real deal.
Senor beamed as we oohed and aahed equally at his wild gardens and at his formal gardens. As Senor toured us through the garden, he made sure we all noticed the 700-year-old chestnut tree, clearly his pride and joy.
In Granada, we walked the narrow, cobbled streets of the Albayzin (also spelled “Albaicin”). This ancient community sits on a steep hillside. On the opposite hillside, the Alhambra and its summer palace, named Generalife (pronounced “Heneral – eefay”) look out over the Albayzin’s two-story whitewashed houses and balconies of potted plants.
In Spain, architecture and gardens are intertwined, but nowhere as much as at the Alhambra and Generalife. Both are amalgamations of palaces built by generations of sultans, followed by generations of Christians, who were replaced by European royalty. Their elaborate tileworks, Islamic style carved walls, fountains, and garden-filled patios left us speechless.
We spent ten days in all, visiting old homes where entire walls were covered in espaliered orange trees. We toured elaborately planted public parks that were once part of massive palace grounds. There were villas whose modest exteriors gave no hint of their carefully designed interior gardens filled with fragrant rosemary, bay, and mock orange; nor of the enormous mosaic rooms and shaded patios that surround those gardens.
From peonies to palms, pines to pomegranates, we took it all in as we discovered the depth and beauty of Spain’s romantic gardens.