Middle East? Far East? Nope. Just Berlin. At the site of the IGA 2017 to be precise - IGA being short for International Gardening Exhibition (exhibition = Ausstellung in German). It's a spring-to-autumn extravaganza that takes place every 10 years, always in a different city or region of Germany. I'll write more about it in my next post, but today I want to show you some pictures of the permanent gardens also on site. Most of them have been there before the IGA opened its doors and will remain accessible to visitors after it finishes. Collectively, they are known as Gardens of the World (Gaerten der Welt) and are well worth a visit if you are in Berlin and have ticked off the usual must-see-and-do's already.

If this sounds like faint praise, it is mainly on account of the site being so far off the beaten track: you can't just pop in between visiting the world-famous museums, Berlin's icon The TV-Tower and the Brandenburg Gate. Indeed, the journey is a bit of a schlep although easy enough on the city's public transport, namely the overground S-Bahn. It just takes a bit of time to get to the outlying district of Marzahn-Hellersdorf.

Once there though, you can travel if not the world then at least gardens of various international destinations. A great advantage of this is being able to compare the differences between traditional Korean, Chinese and Japanese gardens, for instance - both in style and atmosphere. Of course, there is no one "Chinese" or "Japanese" style. But there are certain elements which tend to define these gardens and make them distinct. And here, without much knowledge into the specifics, you can soak it up and get a feeling for these differences. For the gardens here in Berlin-Marzahn are not a European make-believe version with some acers, stone lanterns and buddhas randomly dotted about - they are as real as they could possibly be outside of Asia, many not only having been designed by artists from the respective country but using original materials and even crafts people from there to build them.

I particularly loved the Japanese garden for its peacefulness. Its highlight, at the end of the journey ambling along a narrow path up and down hill on the perimeter, is a tableau - to be looked at and contemplated rather than stepped into and immerse yourself in as our Western gardens usually are. The sun shone at the right angle and after a few minutes of sitting there and waiting I had the place to myself for a while. Pure bliss. And as an idea to take home, perhaps, I liked the rain chains (instead of rain pipes) fixed between roof and ground.

I've seen a real Japanese garden before at Holland Park, London, which I also love (I'm not sure the Japanese garden at Kew qualifies to the same degree). This one here is more intimate, however. And an equally intricate and sophisticated true Chinese garden was one of my favourite discoveries in Frankfurt am Main, Germany years ago. But a Korean garden was entirely new to me. The lasting impression of the latter would be lots of walls, yards and fairly few plants. But maybe I was just not taking enough time.

Covering the whole of IGA in one day, as I attempted, is perhaps possible but madness. You simply rush from one attraction and highlight to the next, trying to not miss the best parts and take in the appealing but "less sensational" passages in between, too. But then, I would not have the chance to do so again, so on I marched. With the Gardens of the World at least, I can come back and enjoy them at a more leisurely pace. And then I will take time for a proper tea ceremony, too, for this is what you can witness in the Chinese garden's restaurant sometimes.

This garden was the first to be opened on site, in 2000, and at its centre there is a 4500 sqm sized lake and various buildings and zigzag bridges. I love the Asian way with naming things - it is always so poetic and evocative. So here we have the tea house called "Mountain House of the Osmanthus Juice" (I hope my translations are correct!), the entrance hall "Parlour of the Fair Weather", the "Pavilion of the Quiet Moonshine" and a stone "boat" called "View to the Moon" among others. 

There is also a newly designed and planted English garden, with a pergola, lots of lavender and roses, a walled kitchen garden, orchard and other features. It is all very pretty but maybe I've just seen too many truly remarkable gardens over here in the UK already to be awfully impressed by this one. In the middle there is a reed-roofed "cottage" where you can indulge in English favourites like cream-tea or carrot cake etc. Hungry as I was at that time I didn't eat there as I thought it rather expensive, especially since I live in the land of scones and clotted cream and hence they are - while still a treat - again not as rare to me.

I did stop for a treat at the café/ restaurant in the big glasshouse which houses the re-opened and newly extended Balinese garden. Knowing too little (i.e. nothing) about Balinese gardens, I cannot say anything as to its authenticity. While the buildings and most plants included are  original (due to a twinning of cities Berlin and Jakarta) , I am less sure about the design of the "garden". Its called the "gardens of the three harmonies" and in essence, there is a "village" consisting of gates, a private dwelling, a traditional pavilion and shrines, set in tropic vegetation you'd expect in the glasshouses of a botanical garden or a municipal park in the tropics - such as frangipani (Plumeria) or Hibiscus - plus something that resembles rice paddies under palm trees. 

But maybe I'm wrong to expect a "garden" in our temperate climate sense of the word. An explanation states that the gardens express an important aspect of Balinese philosophy, namely the endeavour to reach a state of harmony between man, his surroundings and the whole universe. It also explains that the village buts on to jungle, as is common in the south of Bali. Indeed, it explicitly stated that "in Bali, there are no gardens in the common sense since plants are not chosen by artistic criteria but purely according to their use - as medicinal plants, food or for ornamental reasons." So there you are.

There was no doubting the "garden" credentials of the Oriental garden though. "Oriental" is a bit of a misnomer - all the above except the English would qualify as oriental, i.e. eastern, I'd say. So perhaps "Islamic garden" is a better description. Most interested people will be familiar with the concept of an enclosed garden divided by water rills into four parts that contain palms & trees, shrubs, flowers etc. and some loggia or arcade along the walls to retreat to for extra cool shade. This is what we have here and I thought it a stunningly beautiful replica.

Another permanent fixture is the Christian garden. It sits a bit strange perhaps amongst the Gardens of the World, but is probably meant to balance out the "Oriental" garden and its Islamic ideas of paradise. Like the latter, it too features a design of four quarters with a fountain at its centre. But rather than water rills down the middle it has a pergola-like walk around its perimeter, invoking of course the cloisters of medieval times where Christian monks would go about their business. Lacking the traditional abbey buildings, the cloister here is symbolized by cage-like lattice walls that feature passages from the bible and other philosophical or literary texts, the joined metal letters which form the words somewhat resembling lace work.

While correct in the depiction of its traditional elements, I didn't much like the Renaissance garden. It felt too much like a theme park version. Which, of course, is exactly what it is. But you'd want to fall for the illusion. With no real building to speak of, just Potemkin village-style walls and gates, this was impossible. All the more so since on the horizon the high-rise buildings of Marzahn intruded. Still, for an idea of what the classic Renaissance garden consists of, it was okay: Evergreen parterres, hedges, terracotta pots with citrus trees, statues, columns, urns and stone benches and a grotto or niche with a wall fountain were all there.

Finally, there are a maze and a labyrinth as well as the Karl-Foerster garden as part of the Gardens of the World. I'm not really sure why they have been included under this heading, especially the latter. I can only assume that - outside of IGA 2017 - they are intended as yet more examples of different approaches to garden design.

Karl Foerster, of course, was one of, if not the most famous and influential German gardening personalities of the 20th century, celebrated as a garden writer and creator, garden philosopher, nursery man and, most lastingly perhaps, plant breeder who introduced many a fine selection of grasses and perennials, especially as astilbes, delphiniums and asters. His style owes to William Robinson, I'd say, and he is especially known for his famous sunken gardens and quotes like "A garden without phlox is an error."

I do not include any pictures of the Foerster garden here; firstly because I do not think it to fit well here and also because I don't have any: by the time I'd arrived there it was not only late in the day but my camera's battery dead after a day working overtime... If that isn't inducement to come to IGA 2017, I don't know what is ;-). More about the latter in my next post.

Two weeks ago I went to Berlin - to the World Green Infrastructure Congress (WGIC), mostly. Those of you who have been following this blog for a while might know that lately I've become more interested in how to green urban areas. And this mainly is what "green infrastructure" stands for. If you want to be even more precise, it is to do with greening buildings or built structures: roofs, facades, inside them - the whole lot. As opposed to conventional parks, gardens and allotments on the ground. So in order to learn more about the current state of affairs - or debate - in this field I went to said conference. It proved highly interesting.

Like for many people probably, it was Patrick Blanc with his artistically planted green walls who first captured my attention and imagination years ago. What a vision: a city where instead of staring at grey concrete and dirty bricks the walls were covered in lush greenery! I remember breaking my budget when his book "The Vertical Garden. From Nature to the City" was first published... Hence I really had looked forward to his introductory talk - the sprinkling of "stardust" to the conference - and he didn't disappoint. Lively and engaging he took everyone on a journey from his first attempts at creating green panels in his home about 30 years ago to the high-profile and highly prestigious projects of latter years.

Being a plant scientist first, he spoke about how he searches around the world for plants (or plant communities) that are naturally adapted to growing on near-vertical surfaces: from boulders and waterfalls in the tropical rainforests to cliff faces in karst mountains. These natural candidates he then aims to harness for use in his Mur Végétals. Visual appeal (different textures and shapes, for instance) being as - or almost as - important as adaption to the situation. Lately, he seems to increasingly look for plants native to a project's location: in an example from Japan he pointed out how he had collected plants from mountains and forests just 15 - 20 km away, had a local nursery propagate them to provide the numbers required and then included them in the green wall, adding educating panels for people to relate to it all the better.

What distinguishes his walls from many other offerings that exist today, I think, is that they are also a form of art - almost like a painting. The drifts of plants flow into each other seamlessly whilst with more conventional green walls you'll get what I'd call a "pixelated effect", the grid of modules clearly visible. Which, of course, makes maintenance easier since you can easily exchange plants that have died or suffered for new ones.

I have heard people say that Blanc's are - in terms of the benefits usually expected of green walls - among the least efficient. This may well be, but as a means of raising awareness, capturing the public imagination - in short: in terms of marketing and public relations and making the case for greening facades - they are hard to surpass. I witnessed a lady working for a large store with an indoor green wall by Blanc who was there to meet participants of the WGIC on a field trip to green infrastructure examples around Berlin: she positively eulogised about Blanc's work. It seemed genuine, all the more so for being expressed privately in talk with some visitors rather than in an official capacity.

But back to the conference. There were two days jam-packed full of talks – almost 100 – and the biggest challenge, for me at least, was to choose which ones to attend as usually five took place at the same time! Which, I guess, is a credit to the organizers (chiefly, the German wing (FBB) of the World Green Infrastructure Network as well as its European counterpart (EFB) ) - for putting together such a high-calibre programme. Speakers as well as participants (more than 800 had registered) came from all over the world, making this a truly international affair. Apparently, it was the biggest such conference about green infrastructure held in Europe to date by a wide margin.

Topics covered ranged far and wide: from urban rainwater management to research into the improvements to room-climate plants can make – and how to keep the latter happy, too. From a survey of the vegetation on green roofs 20 – 30 years after they had been installed to talks on zero-acreage farming (the latter is the term used for urban food production which does not take up a separate “foot print” on the ground because it uses roofs, facades or rooms in existing buildings). From the legal framework and financial incentives available to build green infrastructure to IT tools designed to help architects, landscape designers, developers and those responsible in local authorities to do just that and work towards greener cities. And of course there were many real-life and best practice examples as well as bold visions for the future.

As I do not have a specialist area of interest, I tried to attend as broad a range of talks as possible, with perhaps a small bias towards trends and visions for the future. Of these, one of the most impressive I thought the presentation by speakers from Singapore who told the audience about the city state’s Greening the Skies programme: a concerted effort to green a city where due to the extremely limited space available (in terms of land area) the only way for developers is upwards.

The most impressive bit of all is that much of this green infrastructure isn’t just plans on a drawing board - but exists for real already. It definitely wasn’t just my jaw which dropped! There was an audible murmur and sighing amongst the audience, the general consensus seeming to be that many wished they would be given the chance to create projects like these just once in their life… And that we had a lot of catching up to do in these parts of the world! 

In fairness though: the climate in Singapore is so conductive to plant growth you could probably plant a broom stick and it would sprout leafs – a definite advantage compared to our European cities where you often have to content with (and find suitable plants for) freezing conditions in winter and hot periods of draught in summer. Still: as a vision of what can be done if the political will and commitment is there, these talks certainly were an inspiration.

Nearer to home there were case studies from Berlin and other German and European cities, such as Vienna, Paris, Porto and Amsterdam. For London, Dusty Gedge - who also is President of conference co-organisers EFB - gave a ten-year review of “Delivering Biodiversity and Green Infrastructure” in my adopted city, and Pete Massini spoke about “Greening a green city – the London experience”. Personally, I’ve always considered Berlin to be a much greener city than London, but I suspect statistics aren’t on my side: it’s just that trees in streets are much more visible than the many private gardens and squares tucked behind houses and walls.

So why do we need green infrastructure in the first place? As I wrote in an earlier post, urban green is not just a "nice-to-have-if-you-can-afford-it" kind of thing: there are reasons galore to green up our cities. The positive effect of nature on human well-being - physical as well as mental - are well-documented. But there is much more: in times of shrinking natural habitats for flora and fauna, urban green increasingly helps protect biodiversity by adding man-made refuges and by creating wildlife corridors. Obviously, it thus increases urban biodiversity, too.

And if you look at it more selfishly: urban green improves air quality and reduces a city’s heat island effect when temperatures are rising – something we all benefit from. It also can play a role in reducing energy consumption and using energy more efficiently. For example, one speaker mentioned findings that the air-conditioning system of a building with a green roof needs 20 - 50 % less energy than one without a green roof – quite simply because the green infrastructure will have cooled the air down a bit already before it enters the air-conditioning system.

With climate change and its accompanying challenges for the environment as well as the economy, green infrastructure will be increasingly instrumental – even decisive - to help us cope. Those were, of course, prominent themes. But a very large number of talks also looked at the non-quantifiable benefits of getting more plants (and with them nature) into cities. In addition to the above mentioned effects on human well-being, increasingly the focus - not just of research - is on social cohesion, too. About creating places to get together, learn and interact, such as community gardens or social enterprises.

Another talk I particularly liked was one on biophilic design: The speaker argued that evolution had hardwired us to like certain natural features - such as water or a sheltered spot with a good view or vantage point - which were of advantage to our ancestor's survival and that hence we consider these to represent beauty. Apparently, the term was first used in 1973 by Erich Fromm with many publications into the subject following since. Referencing from some of these, he pointed out that there is a clear business case for biophilic design which means designing environments based on human evolutionary preferences. 

To take just the example of the work place: productive, healthy people are good for business. With the mantra "where we feel well, we perform well", productivity is the watchword here. Especially, he said, since productivity costs are 87 times greater than energy costs in the workplace. In one example there was apparently a 299% return on investment. There are, the speaker claimed (and it sounds logical enough), huge potential financial savings to be had across many sectors of society. It is actually possible to scientifically measure the physiological impact of design (i.e. the health benefits or lack thereof) - such as for instance on  blood pressure. He thus urged architects, landscape designers and of course developers to turn to and apply biophilic design - and not just in commercial developments.

Finally, on the practical side of things (and without having expert knowledge to boost this claim), technology developed by European project Green4cities is likely to prove particularly useful and relevant in the near future. It is billed as a planning and certification tool for green infrastructure that can be fully integrated in the urban planning  and development process. Detailed simulations of  microclimates (of e.g. an urban area in its present state as well as with planned changes implemented), of water retention, wind fields and the storing of CO2 are just part of it. There is also a "toolbox" for urban development and planning which starts with an assessment of the current situation and its problems leading to a simulation of more general or large-scale urban designs and/ or allows the detailed planning for individual quarters.