A walk around Cadiz often begins with a stroll around the historic center, the "casco antiguo". Cádiz is a peninsula. The "casco" looks like a chop (image found by Eli, second guiritana) surrounded by the Atlantic. There's no risk of getting lost along the sea - you'll always end up retracing your steps or "really" going round in circles. That's how the story of Mora's ficus begins.
Facing La Caleta beach (where James Bond) that these two giants stand. Monumental. Lit up like an Eiffel Tower or Empire State. The town's pride and joy. The two ficus de Mora, as they're called here. They have their own signage.
Ficus de Mora
Mora, there's a species I don't know.
There are four species of ficus in Cadiz: the " Ficus elastica " or rubber trees from Asia, the " Ficus microcarpa " with small leaves also from Asia or Indian laurels imported to Cadiz, the " Ficus rubiginosa " from eastern Australia. And the large-leafed Ficus macrophylla, also from Australia. They are also known as Ficus Magnolia, because the undersides of their leaves are reddish-brown, like magnolia.
Four species around the world in 60 places where you can meet them while strolling through Cadiz.
Between the historic Cadiz of the "casco antiguo" and "Puerta de tierra", the new city.
And Mora?
Named after one of Cadiz's main benefactor families in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. She provided Cadiz with a modern hospital when infrastructure was lacking. Today, the hospital has become the Faculty of Economics.
Two ficus macrophylla trees stand in front of the old hospital. Better still, they mask it.
Ficus de Mora, the legend.
It's said that in 1903, two nuns on their way to northern Spain were obliged to interrupt their journey; they had just returned from the Americas and had taken with them four young ficus shoots which they were thinking of planting in their convent.
One of them had fallen ill, and the stopover in Cadiz proved beneficial. She was taken in at the Mora Hospital.
Alas, the view of the sea from her room was her last.
As a tribute to the nun, two of the four saplings were planted at the foot of the building.
They looked rather like bonsai trees, ridiculous in front of the imposing edifice.
120 years later, our bonsai trees look like baobabs, their trunks so twisted and imposing to the untrained eye.
Today, their roots reach right down to the beach.
Some of their branches are so imposing that they have to be supported by iron and concrete structures. Today, travelers flock here to take selfies. The stars of the town? The ficus.
The cousins of the Alameda Apodaca garden
Opposite, on the other side of the "casco", still going along the sea, you'll come across their two "cousins"; the other two shoots. Remember, the nuns came with four potted shoots.
Here they are, in the Alameda Apocada garden. A garden frozen in the charm of the 1920s, when it was restored, where trees and exotic plants, benches and wrought-iron lampposts, plus ceramics characteristic of the region, coexist facing the Bay, facing the coveted Americas of Cadiz's golden century.
So a tour of Cadiz is also a tour of the four ficus trees.
And once you've done that, it's time to get lost on the perpendicular. Without ever really getting lost, because almost all the squares lead to the sea.
And just like on the merry-go-round, you'll be able to set off again for an enchanted ride.
Envy to tour Cadiz without going round in circles? 
