The Antechamber
of Heaven*
by Tor Eigeland

"If you have a
patio, you possess your own piece of sky," said Maria Luisa Llorente
as I admired her manicured, flower- filled patio in the center of
Seville.
Said a friend in Granada, "The patio is the heart of the house; it
is where friends come to talk. And it is also the lungs. The plants
and the running water clean the air."
"The antechamber of heaven" is what some Andalusians call their
patios, with a characteristic sense for poetic phrasing-- and poetic
license--no doubt inherited from the great poets of their Muslim
past.
Reflecting on visits to a hundred or more patios across Andalusia, I
was suddenly struck by a fact that says volumes about the spiritual
influence of these outdoor living rooms: I did not see a single
television set in a single patio, even in this land of television
addicts.
The Andalusian patio is automatically associated in people's minds
with the traditional Arab house. This is correct as far as it goes,
since the ultimate refinement of the patio was indeed achieved by
the Muslims in Andalusia during their six centuries of rule; the
Patio of the Lions and the Patio of the Myrtles at the Alhambra in
Granada are the high points of this development, and the most famous
patios of all. The Corral del Carbon--an ancient funduk, or Arab
inn, now turned into a center for artisans--is almost as well known.
The Albaicin quarter of Granada also has a number of beautiful
patios. At the villa Carmen de los Martires, only about a hundred
meters from the Alhambra, there is a jewel of a restored Arab-style
patio and a fine old Persian/French garden--very peaceful in
contrast to the Alhambra itself, which has about two million
visitors a year The Parador San Francisco, a hotel, also has a
lovely Andalusian patio and an Arab garden.
The predecessors of these patios date back thousands of years, to
ancient Babylonian, Egyptian, Greek and Roman cultures. It was
simply a natural way of constructing a home: Dwellings surrounded
and protected a central open space where a family lived its life and
where the outdoors, its rigors tempered, could be enjoyed in
complete privacy.
The Muslim Andalusians, though highly urbane, remembered the blazing
deserts of North Africa and the Middle East, which was the heritage
of some of them. Consequently they had a great love of beauty,
nature, and growing things, and a positive passion for running
water--qualities evident in their art, architecture, and, above all,
in their patios.
Traditional Muslim Andalusian patios were secretive, enclosed--even
had a jealous quality. It was nearly impossible, from outside a
house, to find out what was going on inside: The eye met blank
walls. If there were any windows at all, they were high up, so that
people could see out but not in. A front gate would open onto a
passage that turned at right angles and only then gave onto the
patio, protecting the family, especially the women, from curious
eyes.
Many older Spanish homes are still this way, and the layout of more
modern homes, when they are built with patios, is basically
unchanged--rooms open onto a central patio which is often surrounded
by an arcade. What differs is the entrance from the street. Instead
of a blind passage, only a decorative wrought-iron gate prevents
someone from walking in, and seems positively to invite spectators.
Taking advantage of this new openness, people line up in front of
particularly attractive patio gates in the old Santa Cruz section of
Seville, for a glimpse inside. That quarter, in the center of the
city, is full of patios, and two notable ones, one now a restaurant,
are on the very short Callejon del Agua (Water Lane). The main patio
of the Alcazar, Seville's 14th- century royal residence, is also
impressive.
Cordoba is the best place to see a great number of superb patios
very easily, especially in May, when they have fiestas and patio
flower-decoration contests. The Palacio de Viana has no less that 14
different patios, and the Patio de los Naranjos of the Great Mosque
is magnificent.
Simple and natural as the idea of the patio is, the actual
constructions vary greatly according to the taste and pocketbook of
the owner, and the use to which they are put.
Palatial homes may have enormous marbled patios with tall, splashing
fountains, statues, ornamental plants and flowers. A country home
might have orange and lemon trees as well as a vegetable garden in
its patio, in addition to the usual geraniums, roses, jasmin and
vines. Everywhere, the murmuring of splashing of the water and the
scents of flowers and trees are as important as the visual beauty.
In poorer quarters of the cities of Andalusia there are the corralas-joined
two- or three-story houses or apartment buildings looking onto a
large rectangular or square patio, the center of life for several
families, rather than just one. Chairs and tables are put out in
front of each home. At the very least, a few pots of geraniums hang
from the walls.
On Santiago Street in Granada there are two colorful, decayed,
16th-century apartment buildings, four and five stories tall, with
interior galleries on each floor that look down into a rectangular
patio. Partly built of wood, the buildings have miraculously
survived years of smoking in bed and past attempts at modernization.
But one elderly resident told me that the government was now going
to restore them--something the tenants regretted, she said, since
they would have to move out.
"Now, when people really need them," laments Maria Luisa Llorente,
"the patios are disappearing."
Reprint permission granted by publisher.
*Aramco World Magazine (Vol. 41, No. 5, September-October 1990,
pp. 5-10)
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