The first time I saw it, I knew it was somehow important. It was imposing, roughly 3 times my height, and it had the presence of a 1950s screen goddess 20-years past her prime – bold enough in its textured reddish brown hue to be impossible to ignore, and weathered enough to transmit the quality of having lived a very interesting life. Its massive wooden double doors were closed - so I bid the mysterious wall good-bye for the evening.
I had just arrived – knapsack and travel guide in hand – in Seville from Madrid. I travelled alone, but I had a constant companion. Antonio Machado, my darling Spanish poet, and his spare, simple, luminous poetry kept my company. As I turned away from the towering wall in front of me, I remembered that I had no accommodation booked and I suddenly felt displaced. I reached for my compilation volume of Antonio’s poetry published just after his death in 1939. Antonio’s words rose from the page:
Traveller, your footprints
are the only road, nothing else.
Traveller there is no road;
You make your own path as you walk.
On that first evening – in the high tourist season of summer - I walked until I found decent lodging just before the night turned to its deepest shade of dark. Tired, I was discouraged by not having found time to make arrangements for the one central purpose of my trip – seeing the Alcazar palace. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting to experience at Alcazar, but I knew it was somehow important to see it.
The Alcazar of Sevilla, is a Mudejar style palace that was constructed by the Spanish monarch Pedro the Cruel in the late thirteen hundreds. This Spanish Royal palace is one of the best surviving examples of Mudejar architecture, an incredibly attractive design style that is based on Islamic architectural principles and decorative motifs.
Mudejar meaning “permitted to remain” was the name given to the Muslims who stayed in Spain after the reconquest of Spain by the Christian monarchs. The Mudejars were highly skilled craftsmen who created the Mudejar style which is a beautiful mixture of Arabic and Spanish artistic elements. The Mudejar style is marked by the use of detailed ivory, wood, and ceramic work. Importantly, unlike Christian influenced architecture, which usually reproduces images literally, showing the human form and showing objects exactly as they are in real life, in Muslim design people and objects are rarely shown. Instead the Muslims (Mudejars) believed in representing in an abstract way the beauty of the forms found in God’s creation. They honour the wonders and magnificence that God has given to his subjects by recreating in their decoration, carving and art, the forms and patterns that are seen in every day nature. For example, instead of a painting of God and his angels, the Mudejar’s incorporated exquisite, intricate, symmetrical, carved, and painted ceiling designs that simulate the stars in the sky. It was by connecting with the gifts of nature that the Mudejars believed we could most clearly see, touch, and appreciate God.
The next morning (after my arrival in Seville) I was hurrying to nowhere in particular, through the large central square with the Cathedral of Seville to the right of me, and a few hundred steps ahead and to the left of me... there she was. Her doors were open and she was flirtatiously giving passers-by a glimpse what lay behind. She had already caught bees with her honey – she had suitors patiently waiting. There was a long line of people at her gate. My feet slowed but did not stop.
Antonio, my old & wise friend, whispered to me:
And when you look back
You see the path
You will never travel again.
My feet came to a standstill and then my heart pulled me in the direction of the wall.
When I crossed the threshold of her gateway I entered into an outdoor room defined by partial walls with large cut-outs aimed at selectively framing the view of the gardens and the compound. This small room with its 9 foot ceiling was like a gracious host – it seemed to hug me, and offer a place for repose, before gently steering me in the direction of the rest of the compound. As I exited the room, a garden that made my lips smile and my thoughts float, revealed itself. The area was clothed in plants much like the women who I watched in admiration during my adolescence – like those real women this garden avoided the fashionable and over-manicured, and was adorned a style that and appeared to supremely suit its Spanish-Muslim personality. Bougainvillea in tropical colours flowed over unevenly toned walls (a nod to its Spanish context). Flowers, though laid out in perfect symmetry were unrestrained and not tortured into unnaturally neat compositions (a nod to its Islamic creators). Here was a garden that balanced exuberance and contemplation consummately – this beauty presented exactly what was needed and omitted everything else.
At the edge of the end of the garden, was a courtyard surrounded by three wings of a building that incorporated elegant archways and exquisite tile artistry. I knew it was somehow important. I pulled out my travel guide and confirmed – my search was over –the Alcazar of Sevilla had found me!
As my heart came to a standstill and my feet pulled me in the direction of the palace, I could sense Antonio was smiling. He gently echoed:
Traveller, there is no road
only a ship’s wake on the sea.
And I finally heard him. I had known it was important. To be spontaneous, to every now and then be washed away by a tide of curiosity, to sometimes let go and trust that your journey will lead you to your destination. But in that moment looking at the most impressive architectural structure had seen in my life, I realized why it was important. It was important because the journey is a part of the destination. Our appreciation of where we arrive at (our destination) is usually intimately submerged in the magic, the coincidences, and the near-misses of the path we walk to get there. And along the way – if we listen carefully to friendly voices and know what our destination looks like – it seems we stumble unto our central purpose just when we are hurrying on our way to nowhere in particular.
(August 2008)
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