Exploring España: Toledo

Once the capital of Spain and now a UNESCO World Heritage Site, Toledo has earned its place as the most popular day trip from Madrid. Known as the “city of the three cultures” because Christians, Moors and Jews lived there together for centuries, this spectacular city preserves an amazing cultural legacy in the form of churches, palaces, fortresses, mosques and synagogues, making it an absolute must-see for lovers of history and architecture.

I had long wanted to visit Toledo, but somehow never got round to it. Until now, that is. And, having waited so long to see it, I wanted to make the most of this beautiful city, but with just seven hours at my disposal, it was going to be a challenge.

I got the 09:20 Avant service from Atocha RENFE (€20/£16/US$27 rtn) and just 33 minutes later I was in Toledo. The train station, a sight in its own right, is on the eastern edge of the city. Had the weather been a little nicer – fortunately, it picked up later – I might have opted to walk to the city walls. As it was I hopped on a bus. I can't remember which number it was, but it cost €2.50 (£2/US$3.40) one way. Minutes later I was in Plaza de Zocodover. Let the sightseeing commence.

Toledo is a maze of narrow, winding streets and the map I had was far from accurate. Consequently it took a good half hour of wandering to find the so-big-you-can't-miss-it cathedral. Getting lost in a new city, at least in the daylight hours, can be fun, and in this case, I got to see some impressive doors on my travels...

One of the many old doors around the city



A narrow street

La Catedral Primada Santa María de Toledo (The Primate Cathedral of Saint Mary of Toledo) is one of the three 13th century High Gothic cathedrals in Spain. Construction was begun in 1226 and the last Gothic contributions were made in the 15th century. At 120 m (390 ft) long, 59 m (194 ft) wide, and with a maximum height of 44.5 m (146 ft), the cathedral is ginormous. It dominates the Plaza del Ayuntamiento, and can be seen from several places in the city.

I would have liked to have seen inside, but for the life of me I could not figure out where the entrance was! The only entrance I saw allowed me access to nothing more than an area for worship. (Sightseeing fail!). Nonetheless, I managed to get a glimpse of the cathedral's vast interior from it, although exploring it properly will have to be saved for another day.


Part of the main façade, from the Plaza del Ayuntamiento

 

 

Stone carvings by the entrance I managed to find

 

 

Statue on the side of the cathedral

Three of my four grandparents were Jewish and although they died before I was born, I have always taken a special interest in Judaism and the history of its people. This interest has taken me to synagogues, Jewish quarters and, sadly, death camps around Europe. But it seems that in my quest to understand more of my ancestral history, I had overlooked one area – the Spanish Jews.

Spain was once home to the Sephardic Jews who lived and prospered alongside Christians and Muslims, and Toledo had one of the largest Jewish populations in the country. They prospered until the early 14th century, when anti-Semitism increased. Emigration was rife. Those who stayed risked torture and even death. Many were forced to convert to Catholicism, although these conversions were not always successful. Finally in 1492, the Catholic Monarchs, King Fernando II (r. 1479-1516) and Queen Isabel I (r. 1479-1504), perhaps in response to the conversos reverting back to Judaism, issued an Edict of Expulsion ordering the Jews to leave the country. It is believed that at least 200,000 Jews fled the country.

It didn't take me long to find the La Judería (the Jewish quarter) as it was signposted in English, Spanish and Hebrew on pavements at either end. Throughout the quarter, which stretches from Calle Taller del Moro to the city walls at the Puerta del Cambrón, there are blue and white tiles on the walls and pavements, marking the Jewish trail. Two of the city's ten synagogues still survive as they had been converted into churches following the expulsion of the Jews – the Sinagoga del Tránsito (now a museum) and the Sinagoga Santa María la Blanca.

Now entering the Jewish Quarter



 

 

Bright reminders of the area's former inhabitants

 

By far my favourite sight in Toledo was that of the stunning Santa María la Blanca (Saint Mary the White), today considered by many to be the oldest synagogue building still standing in Europe.

Built in 1180 by Islamic architects for Jewish use, the former Ibn Shushan Synagogue is a symbol of the cooperation that existed among the different cultures in Spain in the Middle Ages. It was designed in the Mudéjar style, which developed as a result of Muslim and Christian cultures living side by side. Mudéjar was less about the creation of new shapes or structures and more about reinterpreting Western cultural styles through Islamic influences. It is characterised by the use of brick as the main material, although the decoration has a distinctly Islamic flavour.

It became a church in early 1400s, but did not undergo any major reforms for the change. It took the name of Santa María la Blanca, the name by which it is still known today.

A taste of what's to come





Inside the former synagogue



Mesmerised by geometric shapes






Close up of one of the pillars

Dating from the late 14th century, the Puente de San Martín (St Martin's Bridge) was built by Archbishop Pedro Tenorio to provide access to the old town from the west across the River Tagus. The bridge has five arches with the largest one in the middle spanning 40 m (131 ft), a feat very few bridges at that time managed to match.


View across the río Tajo to the bridge



The bridge's largest arch spans 40m

A functional station was built to coincide with the railway reaching Toledo in 1898. Twenty-one years later, it was replaced with a new station, Estación de Toledo designed in the Neo-Mudéjar style.

The clock tower which is reminiscent of other clock towers in the city

One of the doors to the station

The platform clock



Last view of Toledo from the train window

I had waited so long to see this feted city, and yet I found myself disappointed. Sure, I missed off some major sights, such as the Alcázar and Casa y Museo de El Greco, but I just didn't get the hype. The narrow streets are nice enough, but a little bit samey after a while. Throw in the numerous cars driving at breakneck speed with absolutely no regard for pedestrians, and it all begins to feel a little unpleasant. Granted the sights are interesting, but not necessarily more so than in other easily-accessible cities. As with everywhere, I'm glad I went, if only because I got to see the beautiful former synagogue. To be fair to the city, it probably does deserve a second chance, but I'm not in any hurry to go back.

Exploring España: Campo de Criptana

Today, I am looking back at one of the day-trips I took from Madrid. It's June 2013 and I am following in the footsteps of Don Quijote and visiting some of the windmills of Castilla-La Mancha...

When I became a member of InterNations I joined several activity groups, among them the photography group. But I never went to any of the meet ups. Until June that is, when I saw they were organising a trip to Campo de Criptana, home to some of the windmills made famous by Cervantes in his novel Don Quijote. Those were something I was keen to see and so I signed up.

The group had arranged to meet near Méndez Álvaro, from where we would be picked up by those with cars. I found myself in a car with two friendly Spanish women, both of whom fortunately spoke decent English. It took almost two hours to drive to Campo de Criptana. Initially the weather was lovely and I was treated to some stunning views of the landscape. But, as we neared Criptana, the skies turned black and the rain fell heavily. I was gutted.

Once in Criptana, with the cars parked, we huddled miserably under umbrellas and awnings, praying that the rain would stop. The plan had always been to have lunch first, and given the weather it was probably the best idea. But within fifteen minutes of sitting down, the sun came out and the black clouds gave way to blue skies. Unfortunately, the Spanish favour LONG lunches and it took us almost three hours to finish up. That annoyed me, but not half as much as having the bill divided evenly did! The five of us at my end of the table had shared a couple of starters and two mains. The other six had shared the same number of starters but had ordered a main each. Half the people had a dessert and then everyone but me had coffee. And I still ended up having to pay €21 (£17/US$29). And you wouldn't mind so much except that when one of our party pointed out that we had shared two mains while they had had six mains, the reply we got was a rude and irritated, "Well it doesn't matter". Yeah, not to YOU it doesn't, but to those of us subsidising your greed, it does rather grate. But I held my tongue and said paid up.

The walk to the windmills took us through the town and past the blue and white houses, which reminded me of Óbidos in Portugal. I took a few pictures but I was eager to get to the windmills. After all, that was what we had come to see.

Into the blue

I wonder what these steps lead to...



Cloudy views

I bet this would be stunning on a sunny day

I reached the top of the steps and there it was – a windmill right in front of me! I almost ran to it! While the others hung back trying to capture the views, I made my way purposefully towards the windmill. THIS was what I had come for. I spent a while trying to capture its beauty from every angle. Before long, the rest of the group had joined me and we found ourselves jostling for position.

One of the magnificent windmills

A traditional windfarm

Same windmill, different view

An American woman and I broke away from the group and headed for the plain which was dotted with windmills just waiting to be photographed. We wandered between the mills trying to accurately capture what we were seeing. The less-than-perfect weather was making it a challenge but, not knowing when I would be returning, I was determined to get at least a few pictures.

Straight out of a painting

Beautiful despite the clouds

Windmills on a background of rolling clouds

Another painting

A rural idyll

With the weather fast turning against us, we decided to call it a day. And then someone suggested we go for a drink and a chat in the nearby bar. Some time later we emerged to find that in our absence the sun had come out and was casting beautiful shadows on the mills. There was a sudden flurry of cameras clicking as everyone raced to get a few last shots. Then we wandered back towards the cars, said our goodbyes and headed home...

An attempt at being artistic

Late afternoon sun casting shadows on the windmills

Hidden Madrid: Madrid Río

Having learned of Madrid Río through Google, I stuck it on my 'must-see' list, and then promptly forgot all about it. Many months later, a friend suggested we go check it out. Naturally I was camera-less, so I resolved to return another day with my trusty Nikon in tow...

I instantly felt at home, so much so that some months later I would find an apartment a stone's throw from there, and each morning I would take full advantage of the park and go for a run. Unfortunately, the apartment, or rather the flat-mate, turned out to be a mistake, and within weeks I'd left it and moved to the other side of town. Nonetheless, whenever I felt like being near water, I'd metro it to Príncipe Pío and wander along the river...

Puerta de San Vicente

The walkway from Príncipe Pío to Madrid Río

Looking back towards Príncipe Pío station 

An intriguing-looking church

Madrid skyline from the Río

There are worse places you could live!

Views of the palace and the cathedral

Puente Monumental de Arganzuela

Standing on the bridge

Hidden Madrid: Monte de El Pardo

In my first year in Madrid, I went to a few meet ups solely because I was interested in seeing the places where they being held. That was the case with the horseriding meet up. I'd never even been on a horse before, but I really wanted to see Monte de El Pardo.

I made my way to the meeting point near Plaza de Castilla where I could see a number of stationary cars with their hazards on. Unfortunately, I had no idea whether any of them belonged to our party so I hung around awkwardly waiting. Just then a woman in a grey BMW pulled up. Judging by the way she was dressed, she was intending to go horseriding. My instincts were right and thus I met the woman who would be my chauffeur.

We reached Monte de El Pardo in about fifteen minutes. By now I was getting a little nervous, wondering what I had let myself in for. The inevitable standing around waiting didn't help. Some of the girls changed into proper riding gear while others queued up to use the toilet-that-time-forgot. The only other Brit and I played with the beautiful, purry, furry stable cat. We waited. And waited. And waited.

Finally, we were told to go find a helmet that fit us. Some people were quicker than others and a number of us, myself and the Brit included, found that there was nothing left that fit. Since we were only going for a gentle trot, the lack of a helmet wasn't overly concerning. We stood and waited a little longer. Then the horse distribution started. Those who had ridden before were being given the more lively horses. But some people with past experience wanted quieter horses. I wondered if I, the only person who had never actually been on a horse, would get lumbered with a crazy beast.

Thankfully the Brit, whose Spanish was far better than mine, explained my predicament and before long the stablehand was leading a HUGE chestnut stallion towards me. He assured me it was 'muy tranquilo' (very quiet). I reluctantly took the reins and led it through the carpark. The horse could sense that I was nervous, which was making it nervous. It got a bit jumpy, which made me jumpy! I walked it slowly towards the training paddock. The Brit, still horse-less, very nicely asked someone to help me on the horse. The man adjusted the stirrups and held one out to me. But as the horse was so tall, I couldn't get my leg up high enough. He practically threw me onto the horse.

So there I was, on a horse with no idea whatsoever how to 'start' it. I mean, where was the ignition?! One of our party explained to me in English how to make it go and how to turn it. I managed to get it to trot round the training paddock once or twice. Minutes later we were being ushered out of the paddock and onto our walk route.

Mine took the general orders being shouted by the group leader, but then, halfway up the hill, it simply stopped. Ummmmm. WTF?! I tried to kick it as advised. Nothing happened. One of the stablehands managed to chivvy it along and I got up the hill. By now most of the horses were quite far ahead. Mine, along with the Brit's, was trailing behind.


Monte de El Pardo from atop a horse

For a while I was happy enough just trotting along and trying to get used to being on a horse. Soon I was comfortable enough to hold both reins with one hand, which is what most of the experienced riders were doing, and even to use my free hand to take photos. But as I drew level with one of the Spaniards (an inexperienced rider), she looked at me in disgust and exclaimed ¡Qué poco estilo! (How little style!). How rude!

Bea had taken it upon herself to look after us stragglers. She very patiently explained again and again that I had to kick the horse in the side (something I hated doing) and make clicking noises to get it into drive. It worked, but only for a while. Then my horse went back to crawling along, and even stopping. Still, it gave me a chance to snap a few photos!


Madrid skyline



Gorgeous scenery



The Brit's horse with the Madrid Sierra in the background

Halfway into our two-hour ride, my horse and I found our stride. He was doing what I wanted, and thus I was even able to keep pace with some of the others. But then he saw a large puddle and he stopped. He quite simply refused to go past it. All twelve other horses simply walked around it, but mine?! He freaking stopped dead. The organiser had to bring her horse up behind mine and chivvy him along. Again. And once we'd passed that, he saw three cars and refused to move. That was mortifying. Thankfully, this time he wasn't the only one and with the organiser's help (again!) the bloody horse moved.


My horse bringing up the rear, as always!

By now I was getting tired not to mention saddle-sore. I was losing patience with my horse's fear of everything and so I kicked him in the side and clicked at him in a bid to make him get up the hill a bit faster. Perhaps he had had enough of me because he freaking SHOT up the hill. OMFG! I was absolutely terrified! I thought I was going to hit the ground at full speed! Fortunately, I managed to yank on his reins and pull him to a stop. Or maybe he just ran out of steam. Either way, drama avoided.


Nearing the end of the trek



One last look

He slowly trotted back to the stables, stopping dead at the gate, the training paddock and everything else in between. Finally, we reached the official stopping point. The next problem was how the hell to dismount. The Brit asked one of the stablehands to help me. His help went as far as holding my horse's reins. I did my best to climb off the incredibly high horse. He muttered something about my lack of style (seriously, what is it with the Spanish and style?!), although as the Brit said, perhaps he should have told me what I was meant to do! As soon as my feet touched the ground, the pain kicked in. My inner thighs and my bum were in agony and my shins were bruised from kicking the horse (every time I kicked him, I got hit by the metal stirrups). And as if that wasn't enough, I had burned my chest, my face and my hands (seriously, who burns their hands?!) in the sun! I could have collapsed.

After another long wait, we finally got organised and the drivers chauffeured us to El Pardo for a LONG lunch. We stayed there eating, drinking and chatting for the next three-and-a-half hours. This was followed by a long goodbye in the street and then, finally, we were on our way home. Despite the initial nerves, I had a great day and I would definitely do it again. Although, next time I'd bring sun-block!

Exploring España: Segovia

Having lived in Madrid for three whole weeks, I decided it was time to take a day-trip. While there are many easily accessible places, there was one that I just had to see. Segovia.

Once called Segobriga (in Celtiberian 'sego' meant 'victory' and 'briga' meant 'city', thus 'Victorious city'), the city can trace its history back to Celtic times. It was later captured by the Romans, who gave the city its current name of Segovia. However, the name is not all we have to thank the Romans for; they were responsible for building one of the city's greatest sights and the reason I wanted to visit – the aqueduct.

Built around 50 AD, the Roman aqueduct is incredibly well-preserved. It is 813 metres long (approx. 1,043.5 ft), almost 30 metres high (98.5 ft), and is supported by 166 arches and 120 pillars (I didn't count them – I just lifted the facts from the Rough Guide). Together with the old city, the aqueduct is now a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and rightfully so.

The aqueduct in the sun

I had every good intention of getting the 09:40 train to Segovia. That is, until my alarm went off at 08:00. Usually I'm quite good about getting up, but too many late nights had taken their toll on me. So I reset my alarm for an hour later and went back to sleep. Mistake #1.

I managed to leave the house a little before 10:00, safe in the knowledge that the metro to Chamartín would only take ten minutes – perfect timing for the 10:30 train. Or so I thought. I hadn't banked on there being absolutely NO useful signage at Chamartín station. Looking for said signage cost me five of my precious twenty minutes, but I did eventually locate the ticket office... where I discovered that the queues for on-the-day train tickets were insanely long. All five of them. Oops. Mistake #2.

I picked what looked like the shortest queue. Ha! Mistake #3. Naturally the old couple at the counter took forever and a day to count out their money to the last cent. That was probably the final nail in the coffin of my chances of catching the 10:30 train, but when my turn finally came, I bounded forward full of hope. Unfortunately, despite my best efforts in Spanish, I had landed the surliest cashier ever. He got really grumpy when I misunderstood his question about return times, and as he handed me my ticket, he spitefully told me I was on the 11:30 train, then rudely dismissed me with a wave of his hand and called, "Siguiente" (next). So while I had a ticket, I also had an hour-and-a-bit's wait. Sigh.

But despite all the drama and the mistakes, I made it to Segovia train station. One fifteen-minute bus ride later (a bargainous 95c/77p/US$1.30) and all was forgiven. I was just outside the town centre and at the foot of the very thing I'd come to see – the Roman aqueduct. And it was absolutely stunning! I could have stood there photographing it all day...

Literally my very first view of Segovia

Climbing the steps to the viewpoint

To infinity and beyond (not really)

View of Plaza de la Artillería from the aqueduct



Casting shadows

With a few (hundred) photos taken, there was more exploring to do. Being a public holiday, Segovia was incredibly busy, but by avoiding the main drags I managed to escape the worst of the crowds.

Typical Segovian street

Somehow, despite having taken a quieter route, I ended up in Plaza Mayor with its wedding cake of a cathedral. It reminded me a little of Mosteiro da Batalha (Battle Abbey) in Portugal. I was excited to see inside, although once there I was fairly underwhelmed. The 17th century gold altarpiece in the chapel of St Antón was definitely picture-worthy though!

The cathedral – good enough to eat!

A slice of cathedral!



Close-up of a two-headed bird



The altarpiece in the chapel of St Antón

Outside the cathedral there was only one thing to do – follow the crowds who were obviously heading to the Alcázar. Described by Rough Guide as "an extraordinary fantasy of a castle" I had to go see what all the fuss was about. The original dated from the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries but was rebuilt (and redesigned) after a fire almost completely destroyed it in 1862. The current creation is believed to have served as the model for the original Disneyland castle in California. Perhaps that's why it's so popular?

By the time I got there the queue for the ticket office was out the door and all the way into the park in the front of the castle. I was so NOT prepared to join it. And so I turned around and walked against the relentless flow of pedestrian traffic back into the centre of the town. And in doing so discovered something far better – endless examples of esgrafiado, a style of plasterwork that dates back to Moorish rule and is typical of Segovia. Designs can be floral or geometric and, whether simple or intricate, they add an elegance to what would otherwise be a plain façade. It was love at first sight!


Decorative wall en-route to the Alcázar

Old esgrafiado

Modern esgrafiado, with minerals mixed through to add colour

Traditional plasterwork (top) with a modern touch-up

I walked around, camera in hand, marvelling at the variation in plasterwork. I ended up in the Jewish quarter, where I came across a conveniently-located café, the perfect spot for a cup of tea and a slice of cake! Refreshed, I did some more wandering.

My travels took me into Plaza de San Martín, allegedly one of the city's grandest squares, where I found the attractive twelfth-century Romanesque Iglesia de San Martín (St Martin's Church).


St Martín's Church

In the centre of the square was a statue, which I stopped to photograph. It turned out to be local folk hero, Juan Bravo (1483-1521), the leader of the short-lived rebel Comuneros during the Guerra de las Comunidades de Castilla (War of the Castilian Communities).


Statue of Juan Bravo (1483-1521)

Some time later, I came across Casa de los Picos (the House of Spikes), a 15th century building with a rather odd-looking façade made up of pyramid-shaped stones which catch the light and cast interesting shadows. I had never seen anything like it! The narrow street made it difficult to take the photo I'd have liked to, but I eventually managed to capture something representative of what I was seeing.


The intriguing Casa de los Picos



Taking a closer look at the stones

Around the corner, I stopped to photograph a sleeping dog. Not far from the dog was a stand selling roasted chestnuts, and drawn in by the smell wafting over, I bought some. I had tried them before in Portugal and really wasn't that keen, but I love the smell and the idea of eating them so I thought I'd try again. I actually kind of liked them. Perhaps they roast them differently here.


Dozing dog

By now an hour and a half had passed so I thought I'd try the Alcázar again. This time I was in luck. The queue was about three people long. I paid for a ticket to both the palace and the tower (€6.50/£5.30/US$8.90). The palace was fairly average, although some of the ceilings were amazing. The panoramic views were worth every cent though.


Disneyland or plain old Alcázar?



One of the viewing points

 

 

The view from the castle



The view of the cathedral from the tower

Flowers outside the Alcázar

Back on terra firma I retraced my steps and ended up back at the aqueduct. I took some last shots and a last lingering look and then went in search of the bus. I had timed it well, and before long I was back at the station and on my way back to Madrid...


The back of the castle taken from the park below it