A Flash of Madrid

On the way back from Toledo, we planned for an afternoon bus layover in Madrid, my second afternoon spent there (the first was when I was in Spain 3 years ago during another train/bus layover).  I really only remembered the Prado and the park from the last time I was there, and remember thinking it was a pretty, well kept-city, but that was about it.  This time my impression was different.  It was a pretty, well-kept city with an energetic buzz of activity on street after street after street.  Granted we stayed in a pretty small radius (within a couple metro stops), but I couldn’t get over how active the city seemed. 

We revisited the Prado.  The fact that I was saying to myself, “seriously? not ANOTHER Goya, not ANOTHER El Greco, not ANOTHER Velázquez” is pretty incredible.  The one that made the biggest impression is Velázquez’ Las Meninas, not only because I had studied it the most (that’s always exciting), but because its fame is completely deserved.  It was exquisite. 

After the Prado we walked to the Plaza Mayor for lunch (pictures above).  After perusing the street-side stands for souvenirs, we spent our remaining time sitting in the Plaza Mayor, literally, on the ground right in the middle of the plaza.  The size of the plaza is hard to describe.  It’s massive, and the ground was COVERED with groups of people just chilling right there on the stones.  The periphery is dotted with restaurants down below and stacks of what appear to be mostly residences above, each with quaint shutters.   

As we descended into the metro on the way to the bus station after only a few hours in the city, I thought that I really must plan a real trip there.  

Toledo

The best thing about the bus systems in Europe is that planning ahead is never necessary (a good thing for the Spanish, since they struggle a bit with that concept anyway).  Wednesday night (February 25^th) I realized I didn’t have any plans for the weekend and suddenly remembered I had an open invitation to visit the Ohio girls I had met in my hostel who were studying in Toledo.  I asked Katie, another girl from Texas, if she wanted to go, we called the girls to assure they would be there, and Thursday we bought tickets for an overnight bus to Toledo (via Madrid) that left that night at 1am. 

We arrived in Madrid around 5:15 Friday morning and waited for the metro to open at 6 so we could go to the other bus station to buy a ticket to Toledo.  In general, our excursion relied completely on the help solicited of strangers.  They always understood our situation well and so we had a helpful system that went something like, Katie and I: “Where is such-and-such?”…Stranger: “Walk two blocks that way and then ask again.”  For the most part these strangers were both friendly and accurate, but unfortunately that Friday morning at 6 am in the underground world of Madrid after a sleepless night on a bus, we were sent on a wild goose chase in search of a non-existent train to Toledo that would be “much better than the bus.”  Several unnecessary metro tickets and a couple hours later, we found ourselves climbing aboard a bus with the words “Toledo Directo” in the windshield (our original plan).  Needless to say we both slept quite well on that final 45 minute leg of the journey.

Upon arrival in Toledo, we went directly to the “Casco.”  Literally meaning “helmet,” Casco is the name given to the walled portion of Toledo, the center, due to its position on a round mound surrounded by the river Tajo on almost three sides.  Finding our hostel was surprisingly easy given the maze of narrow crooked streets that defined the entirety of the Casco, the street of our hostel being perhaps the most crooked and the most narrow of them all. 

Unlike the city of Valencia, in which the “Christian” (I cringe to think it) Inquisition destroyed most remnants of previously thriving Muslim and Jewish cultures from the period of the kingdom of Al-Andalus (8^th-15^th centuries), in which the three cultures had lived peacefully and harmoniously under Islamic rule, Toledo is known for its preservation of the three cultures.  The architecture unmistakably tells the story of the “covivencia” (peaceful and functional co-living) of Christians, Muslims, and Jews, as well as their influences on each other, and the change of power through the years.  We saw a number of “church-mosques” that had been used as mosques at some points in history, and churches in others.  One in particular was called “Mosque of the Christ of the Light.”  Today, a clear line can be drawn inside that separates the church half from the mosque half.  The architecture of each part is completely distinct and corresponds unmistakably to its function.  However, each half contains certain elements of the other, a clear witness to the influence each culture’s architecture had on the other’s.  Most of the architecture in Toledo incorporates many “mozarabe” elements (adjective for Christians who lived in Muslim Al-Andalus, or in this case a style that mixes Christian and Islamic themes).  We also visited a synagogue that had windows that anyone would clearly identify as Islamic in style.  I was struck by the degree to which we subconsciously associate architectural styles with functions and cultures.  Although you all may not necessarily be able to list characteristics of mozárabe architecture, I guarantee if you were to walk into a church with “arcos de herradura,” (the type of arch used most frequently in Islamic architecture), you would be struck by their oddity. 

We were surprisingly able to accomplish nearly everything we had wanted to see and do on Friday due to the compactness of the city, including the many church-mosques just described, the famous El Greco painting “El Entierro del Condo de Orgaz” (El Greco lived in Toledo for a number of years), and exploring the city wall by climbing in and on it.  That left for Saturday only a semi-hokey tourist train ride around the city, the well-known Cathedral, and losing ourselves in the maze of the city.  For someone who considers herself to have exceptional way-finding skills and sense of direction, Toledo was humbling.

The “train” (really a series of carts on wheels that didn’t take too well to the cobblestone streets of the city center) carried us to the other side of the river, giving us a beautiful view of the Casco from afar, with the principle landmarks such as the cathedral, a beautiful gothic monastery we had toured, and a palace rising up above the rest of the town. 

That evening we toured the Cathedral, the MASSIVE Cathedral.  After several hours inside, we still hadn’t seen all we could have seen.  Katie was just as interested in the history of the Cathedral as I was, so we took the time to dissect and attempt to understand the Spanish guide we received (for some reason written with a very complex vocabulary).  Each chapel within the Cathedral offered something unique, and there was even a gallery of El Greco and Velasquez paintings, among others, and a museum of historical clerical vestments.  When it was time for the cathedral to close to visitors, a mass in a side chapel was beginning.  We stayed for the mass, which concluded with a large choir of young boys in red and white robes processing two by two through the main part of the cathedral, their pre-adolescent voices echoing off of the stones and filling the space.