urbane horticulture

Two weeks ago I was in Cusco, Peru. It is 11,200 feet above sea level and surrounded by mountains as high as 20,000 feet. It is hard to breathe and soroche – coca tea –  is served by concerned hoteliers, to help with the altitude sickness. For me, it wasn’t too bad although I did glance at the oxygen tank in the corner by the reception.

The first thing is to go to the market where there is an abundance of squash, potatoes, corn, fruit and faces.

I came here because of two people. Juan Grimm, Chilean landscape architect, and Ximena Nazal, Chilean nurserywoman and naturalist. I met both last year.

When I interviewed Juan last year, he talked about the Inca. “It is ironic that when Christopher Columbus ‘discovered’ the Americas, the Inca Empire was probably the largest in the world.”  This statement, and others he made, stimulated my desire to go to Peru.  Ximena said one word, “Puya”. More of that later.

Cusco is the starting point for travelers to Machu Pichu. The city square is crowded with tourists wearing enough outdoor gear to conquer any mountain. We tourists like our GoreTex and Patagonia clothing, all straps, pockets and sturdy boots. As I found out later, getting to Machu Pichu is easy and, apart from those sturdy souls who hike there, most of us could go  wearing a lounge suit or summer frock. But swathed in recycled tire fabric, off we go.

I had a arranged to travel through the  Sacred Valley of the Inca to Ollantaytambo, the jumping off point ( so to speak) for Machu Pichu. My traveling companions and I were met by our young driver who whisked us off to the nearest ruin. Sacsaywamen is the ancient  capital of the Inca empire, although I was told the same thing about three other places. It is quite impressive and has an extensive and fascinating history which we largely ignored. We being plant people, our attention began quickly  to wander away from ruins to plants. And, as many of you know, if you can’t spend at least an hour discussing the nomenclature of some scrubby tree, life loses its luster.

A short drive from Sacsaywamen is Puca Pucara, meaning red fort. We walked around this, mainly to satisfy our driver, and then became excited by the plants in the adjacent parking lot.

Cantua buxifolia  (Polemoniaceae) is the national flower of Peru, and comes in many colors. There is an Inca legend associated with the flower but it’s not very interesting, just the usual tale of betrayal, slaughter and redemption.

Still frothing about Cantua, we commenced our drive into the valley.

That’s enough from me for the moment.

in writing a post for this blog for quite a while. My excuse is that I have been completing my book. Thanks to a great editor, the process has gone quite smoothly. Even writing several hundred captions went .. well, it went.

The book is now in the hands of a copyeditor who thinks the manuscript is “lovely”. She’s not English so she may well mean it.

Next, will come design and layout, and at some point, proofing, proofing, proofing.

It will then disappear, to return like a prodigal child, sometime in August 2018.

Post-partum authorship is something to attend to. My book has required me to travel the world a number of times, and I am conscious of missing that global drive. So, in order to assuage the possible emptiness, I have decided to keep on traveling. As many authors have stated in varying ways – ‘what the fuck, why not ?’

In a few days I fly to Bangkok, then Laos, where I will spend time at the Pha Tad Ke Botanical Garden in Luang Prabang. I hope to post something from there.

Meanwhile.

Spring is like a perhaps hand
(which comes carefully
out of Nowhere)arranging
a window, into which people look(while
people stare
arranging and changing placing
carefully there a strange
thing and a known thing here)and

changing everything carefully

spring is like a perhaps
Hand in a window
(carefully to
and from moving New and
Old things, while
people stare carefully
moving a perhaps
fraction of flower here placing
an inch of air there)and

without breaking anything.

e.e.cummings

On a recent trip to Spain and Portugal I met some fine gardeners, saw wonderful gardens, and drank a little wine.

“Give me wine to wash me clean of the weather-stains of cares” ― Ralph Waldo Emerson

In Barcelona, I came upon the Spanish version of New York’s High Line – The Elevated Gardens of Sants. Designed by architects Sergi Godia and Ana Molino. “The elevated gardens of Sants are part of an urban project that seeks to eliminate the urban barrier of the passage of the train tracks through the city of Barcelona. Instead of burying the infrastructure, the architects opted for its covering with a building-container, in whose cover the gardens are developed. This long and elevated space allows a 800-meter-long walk with fantastic views of the city.”

“The structure that holds up the building/container is comprised of prefab concrete parts in a sequence on a diagonal which adopts the shape of a great Warren beam evoking the old railway bridges, leaving large empty triangles that lend themselves to glazing them over to allow a view of the train passing through the city, reducing its acoustic impact to a minimum. Not fully glazing the building allowed three great green inclines to be built which rise from the lowest levels right up to roof level. These embankments “anchor” the building into its setting allow the roof vegetation to spill down to the lateral streets and support pedestrian ramps that provide a “natural” access to the roof.”

The Rock Garden, Chandigarh, India.

Chandigargh, a utopian dream city designed by Le Courbusier, is a spectacular failure except for one thing, Nek Chand’s Rock Garden.

In 1958, Nek Chand began collecting rocks and discarded and recyclable items from the demolition of the villages that once stood where the new city was being built. Chand built a world depicting village life, and a fantasy kingdom of palaces and pavilions. He did most of this at night after his work day was done.

Later, the Chandigargh Landscape Advisory Committee, who had planned to demolish the work, (ah committees), relented and allowed Nek Chand to open the Rock Garden to the public.

The Rock Garden was inaugurated in 1976 and is one of the most visited places in India.

A traveling companion and I traveled  to Chandigargh  specifically to see this masterpiece. We went twice in 24 hours, the first time in the afternoon. After a few hours at the site, we couldn’t speak. We went back to our hotel and to our respective rooms. Without dinner or conversation we retired. There were no words.

We went back the next morning. There are no words except words of gratitude. Thank you Mr.Chand, and thank you Marcia and Pradeep.

On a recent trip to Chile I discovered four important things that I believe are essential to well-being.

The first is oxygen. There seemed to be a short supply of the stuff as the country is experiencing its worst wildfire season in its history. Nearly 900,000 acres of forest are burning, turning the sky brown and, with excessive summer heat, making most of the country smell and feel  like a bad barbecue. 5,000 people have been evacuated and 11 killed. It’s a terrible situation. The heat and the drought have been linked to climate change but I am an American and, under the new administration, apparently that particular scientific fact is no longer true.

Ignoring the bad news and being a self-indulgent tourist, I discovered the second, the breakfast of champions – Pisco Sour. This appears to be a drink made out of eggs and urine. Fortunately, it’s made out of brandy – Pisco – a grape brandy.

Here’s a recipe.

1. Pour pisco, lemon juice, sugar and egg white in a shaker with ice.
2. Shake and strain in an old-fashioned glass filled with ice.
3. Pour dashes of angostura bitters on the creamy drink.

One Pisco sour starts the day with a zing. Two adds a hallucinatory quality to the day and you start to see Inca deities at the end of the bar. Three ends the day rather quickly.

The third is ceviche. I don’t know the history of ceviche and after a couple of Pisco Sours, I couldn’t care less.

The fourth is flora, of course. The flora of Chile is rich in endemism. The Chilean wine palm, Jubaea chilensis, is almost gone from the wild but it is grown in gardens.

Chilean wine palms at Parque Explorador Quilapilún

In the Andes, the magnificent  Puya chilensis, a terrestrial bromeliad, grows on rocky slopes. Its flowering is finished in late summer but it has a powerful presence in the scree and boulders 300-1000 m above sea level.

Here is a photograph, from a friend, of Puya chilensis in flower.

Good food and drink can be found anywhere but a plant in the wild is beyond ordinary  pleasures.

My research and writing for a future book has taken up much of my time. Blogs get neglected when there are other things to do.

But.

I would be remiss, at least in my own mind, if I didn’t post a few snaps.

I popped over to Laos and Cambodia recently.  I went to Laos to see the brand new botanic garden Pha Tad Ke, near Luang Prabang. I intend to write more about this, the first botanic garden in the Laos PDR.

It is a 25 minute boat ride on the Mekong River from Luang Prabang to PTK.

Laos is a Buddhist, Animist, Socialist Republic.

Just 30% of the plants of Laos have been studied. Given that the country has one of the most diverse and profuse floras in the world, and slash and burn agriculture is devastating  the countryside, there is much to do.

About 485 species of orchids are native to Laos. There well may be many more. The garden has collected 250 species mostly Bulbophyllum and Dendrobium and they are on display in two shade houses.

Looking across the Palm Collection to the range of mountains and limestone karsts.

Skeletonized leaves embroidered with gold thread.

Rik Gadella, the garden’s creator, founder and general manager is an extraordinary man with an extraordinary vision. He and his staff are creating one of the most important and beautiful gardens in the world. Go there.

Link to the garden’s website – Pha Tad Ke

I then followed the Mekong to Siem Reap, Cambodia, to Angkor Wat, Prasat Pram, and the great wetland of Tonle Sap.

Thousands of tourists get up before dawn to see the sun rise over the temples. Once the sun is risen they seem to spend about half an hour wandering around and then head back to their hotels for breakfast.

I, being better than that, spent a couple of hours there. Self-righteous eco-voyeurism is such fun.

I preferred  Prasat Pram,a complex of five temples built in the 10th century, three of which are extant. There were few people there.

One of the temples is built of brick.

The glory of these temples is the tree roots that wrap themselves around the buildings.

On, then, to the great wetland of Tonle Sap where we tourists are taken in longboats to peer at people in the floating villages.

Beyond the village is the wild wetland. Full of rare birds. Spot-billed Pelican, Oriental Darter, Greater Adjutant and Painted Stork. And plants – Barrintonia acutangula, Croton caudatus, Dalbergia pinnata ,to name three.

What an honor to be there. To see all of it. Even ever so briefly.