Sunday, January 18, 2009
SNOW!
Residents of Alcalá de Henares tell me that the last time they saw snow stick to the ground in this town was 1996—and even then, the snowfall was minimal compared to what cumulated on January 9, 2009. Understandably, there were no snow plows within the city limits when the storm occurred. Real Life stopped; traffic jams made ten minute drives into 5 hour trips. The buses could not run. Even the trains suffered massive delays. People were forced to miss work or, far worse, were trapped at the office. Cars were abandoned in favor of walking through the powder. The storks flapped their wings with agitation in their snow-filled nests. And, most of all, in the historic city center, people were the happiest I have seen since my arrival in Alcalá. Children uncovered blooming pansies as they rolled snowman torsos in the Plaza de Cervantes. Couples walked closely together, laughing as their shoes slid over the frozen tile. Everybody was smiling.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Rome 4: Underground
We seemed to all have a little bit of a fascination with death. We spent a day learning about past burial customs, ancient beliefs, and the necessary architecture for efficient burial as we explored the Roman catacombs.
Ancient Roman tradition consisted of cremation for dead bodies of its residents. As Christianity emerged and burial became more and more popular, the government declared that burial would be permitted...outside of the city walls. Later, when Christianity was banned in Rome, these burial sites were conveniently already hidden underground outside the city, and the Romans did not realize the extent of the cavernous networks. However, these catacombs were not always exclusively Christian and also housed the bodies of Jewish or pagan dead.
We first visited the catacombs of San Sebastian. Our passionate guide explained that families were designated spots within the catacombs to bury their family members; the bodies were handed over to the keepers of the burial site, who carved out a niche in the wall (sometimes 4 or 5 one upon another), deposited the body, and sealed the space with a slab of marble or the like. These catacombs were easy to construct; the soil in the area was a soft clay that was easy to alter, but hardened into a cement-like rock state when exposed to the air.
Families could come visit their deceased members, lighting their way with small terracotta oil lamps that sat in small holes in the walls. The catacombs are very confusing, like a labyrinth of identical passage ways, narrow, but with very high ceilings. Now the grave markers are gone, as well as the bodies, but the niches in the walls remain, reminding visitors of what was once there. The coffin shaped holes are reflective in size of who was inside; the difference between the grave of a child and the grave of a man is very evident. Within the catacombs of San Sebastian, there are also three second century Roman family mausoleums, which were buried and preserved by the earth until excavators discovered it in more modern times. Even the fresco paintings of rose vines and the stucco ceilings are still visible, in addition to the many urns arranged inside.
According to tradition, families would celebrate their dead by lunching inside the catacombs. A small room closer to the surface of the earth was designated to their funeral banquets. The walls are scrawled with carved graffiti asking Saints Peter and Paul, who were believed to have been temporarily buried within these catacombs, to answer their various prayers.
Next we toured the San Callisto catacombs, which are larger and better preserved. Photography is prohibited in these sacred sights, so I've borrowed a photo from the generous internet:
Now the area is well-lit, but it is interesting to imagine it lit only by occasional flames.
Finally, we visited the Capuchin Church of the Immaculate Conception, where the crypt below offers a bone-chilling surprise: the skeletal remains of 4,000 ish monks arranged artistically for viewing. It was really amazing (and sure, a bit creepy). I expected it to smell pretty putrid, and I was surprised by the overall odor neutrality.
I've borrowed one more photo from the world wide web to give you an idea of the sight, but click this link as well to get more of an idea: http://www3.sympatico.ca/tapholov/pages/bones.html
Ancient Roman tradition consisted of cremation for dead bodies of its residents. As Christianity emerged and burial became more and more popular, the government declared that burial would be permitted...outside of the city walls. Later, when Christianity was banned in Rome, these burial sites were conveniently already hidden underground outside the city, and the Romans did not realize the extent of the cavernous networks. However, these catacombs were not always exclusively Christian and also housed the bodies of Jewish or pagan dead.
We first visited the catacombs of San Sebastian. Our passionate guide explained that families were designated spots within the catacombs to bury their family members; the bodies were handed over to the keepers of the burial site, who carved out a niche in the wall (sometimes 4 or 5 one upon another), deposited the body, and sealed the space with a slab of marble or the like. These catacombs were easy to construct; the soil in the area was a soft clay that was easy to alter, but hardened into a cement-like rock state when exposed to the air.
Families could come visit their deceased members, lighting their way with small terracotta oil lamps that sat in small holes in the walls. The catacombs are very confusing, like a labyrinth of identical passage ways, narrow, but with very high ceilings. Now the grave markers are gone, as well as the bodies, but the niches in the walls remain, reminding visitors of what was once there. The coffin shaped holes are reflective in size of who was inside; the difference between the grave of a child and the grave of a man is very evident. Within the catacombs of San Sebastian, there are also three second century Roman family mausoleums, which were buried and preserved by the earth until excavators discovered it in more modern times. Even the fresco paintings of rose vines and the stucco ceilings are still visible, in addition to the many urns arranged inside.
According to tradition, families would celebrate their dead by lunching inside the catacombs. A small room closer to the surface of the earth was designated to their funeral banquets. The walls are scrawled with carved graffiti asking Saints Peter and Paul, who were believed to have been temporarily buried within these catacombs, to answer their various prayers.
Next we toured the San Callisto catacombs, which are larger and better preserved. Photography is prohibited in these sacred sights, so I've borrowed a photo from the generous internet:
Now the area is well-lit, but it is interesting to imagine it lit only by occasional flames.
Finally, we visited the Capuchin Church of the Immaculate Conception, where the crypt below offers a bone-chilling surprise: the skeletal remains of 4,000 ish monks arranged artistically for viewing. It was really amazing (and sure, a bit creepy). I expected it to smell pretty putrid, and I was surprised by the overall odor neutrality.
I've borrowed one more photo from the world wide web to give you an idea of the sight, but click this link as well to get more of an idea: http://www3.sympatico.ca/tapholov/pages/bones.html
Friday, January 16, 2009
Rome 3: Ancient Rome
The afternoon we took our ancient ruins tour my bronchitis reached new heights, but I was able to wobble around with the rest of the tour group for four hours (sorry, once again, to those I spread my germies to). It was nice to be with a guide; the information she provided was useful and, more importantly, we got to skip the lines at the Coliseum!
It was late afternoon and the high walls blocked the sinking sun. Also, we happened to plan our visit during the rainy season. Thus, instead of the sun-baked, barren Coliseum skeleton I had always seen in photos, we were faced with a cool and solemn stadium, the dilapidated, once-hidden compartments beneath long-destroyed trap-doors alive with lush grass and thriving moss.
We learned a lot about the monstrosity before us. For example, the martyrdom of thousands of Christians taking place within the Coliseum walls…is believed by historians to have occurred elsewhere. Specifically, in Circus Maximus, where the chariot races were held. That’s not to say that there was not Christian martyring within the Coliseum; it was simply on a smaller scale than most people have been taught.
Later on in the trip we were able to visit the Pantheon, the Temple of All the Gods. The Pantheon is the longest-standing building in Rome; the current version was built in 126 AD. The architecture is quite impressive. Firstly, the Pantheon’s structure includes the world’s largest free-standing dome. Secondly, and amazingly, the source of sunlight and fresh air is a large, neat hole in the culmination of the dome; this is, incidentally, a convenient entrance for the occasional deluges of rain. To accommodate for the weather, the floor is bowed, allowing the rain water to flow to the edges of the interior in every direction and into the precisely placed drains. When the sun shines into the opening in the ceiling, it creates a twin circle of the hole onto the wall, and the position of this spot on the wall reflects the true journey of the sun. And finally, the height of the highest point of the dome is exactly the same as the width of the base.
Afterward, we spent the afternoon wandering through the remainder of the Roman ruins, traversing the Roman Forum and Palatine Hill. This area is home to many important temples and basilicas, including the Temple of Saturn
,
the Temple of Ceasar, and the Temple of Venus. I enjoyed learning about the Temple of Vesta, where the Vestal Virgins dedicated their lives to tending the Sacred Fire of Vesta, which burned without exception. It was believed that if the fire was ever extinguished, the Roman Empire would collapse.
Exploring Ancient Rome was very exciting! It is an amazing world.
It was late afternoon and the high walls blocked the sinking sun. Also, we happened to plan our visit during the rainy season. Thus, instead of the sun-baked, barren Coliseum skeleton I had always seen in photos, we were faced with a cool and solemn stadium, the dilapidated, once-hidden compartments beneath long-destroyed trap-doors alive with lush grass and thriving moss.
We learned a lot about the monstrosity before us. For example, the martyrdom of thousands of Christians taking place within the Coliseum walls…is believed by historians to have occurred elsewhere. Specifically, in Circus Maximus, where the chariot races were held. That’s not to say that there was not Christian martyring within the Coliseum; it was simply on a smaller scale than most people have been taught.
Later on in the trip we were able to visit the Pantheon, the Temple of All the Gods. The Pantheon is the longest-standing building in Rome; the current version was built in 126 AD. The architecture is quite impressive. Firstly, the Pantheon’s structure includes the world’s largest free-standing dome. Secondly, and amazingly, the source of sunlight and fresh air is a large, neat hole in the culmination of the dome; this is, incidentally, a convenient entrance for the occasional deluges of rain. To accommodate for the weather, the floor is bowed, allowing the rain water to flow to the edges of the interior in every direction and into the precisely placed drains. When the sun shines into the opening in the ceiling, it creates a twin circle of the hole onto the wall, and the position of this spot on the wall reflects the true journey of the sun. And finally, the height of the highest point of the dome is exactly the same as the width of the base.
Afterward, we spent the afternoon wandering through the remainder of the Roman ruins, traversing the Roman Forum and Palatine Hill. This area is home to many important temples and basilicas, including the Temple of Saturn
,the Temple of Ceasar, and the Temple of Venus. I enjoyed learning about the Temple of Vesta, where the Vestal Virgins dedicated their lives to tending the Sacred Fire of Vesta, which burned without exception. It was believed that if the fire was ever extinguished, the Roman Empire would collapse.
Exploring Ancient Rome was very exciting! It is an amazing world.
Rome 2: Vatican City
It was raining the day the Harrisons and I headed to the Vatican. We chose to see Saint Peter’s Basilica first and so waited in the long line of bright umbrellas which wound around the square.
Mass was taking place inside as we roamed through the vast corridors, marveling at the ornate décor and grand marble recreations of saints and past popes. Even on this wet day in winter, the building was extremely crowded and we tried to keep an eye on one another’s heads as we pushed through to catch a glimpse of the altar. I found the place very dark (of course there was no sunlight to shine in) and cold (as chilly weather is not kept outdoors by bare marble), but interesting, just the same. The basilica was reconstructed from 1506 to 1615 and the age is enough to awe a person standing within, never mind the chill-inducing echoes of intense history and mystery, or the guilty sort of beauty in every direction.
In 324 AD, Constantine ordered construction on this grand tribute to Saint Peter’s martyrdom. He chose this site because of its history: before having served as Nero’s Circus, the location had served as both a pagan and Christian burial ground. It was said that here, in this plot of land, Saint Peter had been buried. Modern excavations beneath Saint Peter’s began in 1939 and it took ten years for archeologists to sort through the mausoleums and shallow graves containing animal and human bones. It was in 1950 that Pope Pius XII declared that the saint’s remains had been discovered and that he (and the church) had no doubt that they were truly Saint Peter’s.
We worked our way underground into the clean and slick papal crypt, gawking at the intricate tombs of Popes long past. As usual I was tempted to reach out and caress the marble; I am always infatuated with how realistic the sculptors were able to make the ripples in fabric appear. Still, I know that these works are ruined by the curious fingers of on-lookers, so I kept my hands buried in my pockets.
The tomb of recently passed Pope John Paul II was surrounded by quite a crowd of quiet, thoughtful onlookers, some who silently knelt in prayer. I was quite pleased to see the humble simplicity of his tomb after viewing the gratuitous ornamentation of other papal tombs.
And, then, Saint Peter’s tomb. I stood pondering its meaning to me, the value of human bones, the science that lies beneath the art, wondering about the differences between rumor and legend and the power of the spoken word and written history. Craig leaned over to me and whispered, Think about it: the body in that tomb could belong to a man who walked alongside Jesus Christ. Yes, powerful.
We emerged again into the weather and were surprised to find the piazza brimming with people, the bright umbrellas from edge to edge. We heard Italian reverberating from loudspeakers over the square; this was the voice of Pope Benedict XVI, expressing his disapproval of the violence currently occurring in the Gaza Strip.
Thanks to an unexpected and all too stimulating journey we found ourselves on (which we all will forever look back on with fondness, rest assured) the Vatican museums had to wait until the next morning. There we were, in the mile-long line in the cold morning. I don’t know how long we waited but to put it simply, I hope to never be in Rome in the BUSY season.
Our guidebooks suggested allowing two hours to tour these extensive museums, but we could have easily spent the entire day inside. In fact, I could have spent over two hours in the Sistine Chapel alone. INCREDIBLE! I was filled with remorse at the signs prohibiting me to lie on the floor and gaze upward (of course I would have been trampled by the crowds of gawkers). I was glad that we had researched the symbolism of the ceiling before viewing it; we were able to understand some of the assorted depictions of the Old Testament and identify the people portrayed.
I continue to feel utter awe when it comes to the work of Michelangelo. The man was not simply an artist; he was a pioneer of style and method. When you look up at the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, the reaching and pointing figures pull away from the plaster and push toward you. The three-dimensional aspect is dizziness-inducing. But your eye will not stay on the ceiling for long. Inevitably, you are drawn to the centerpiece of the great room—a powerful and frightening Jesus casting human souls into Hell, in The Last Judgement. Unfortunately, neither my words nor photographs can display the enchantment, awe, fear, and admiration these massive pieces instill (convenient, since I have none to offer! Photography is prohibited in the Sistine Chapel).
I had anticipated the cracked and pale paint shown in old photos of the Sistine Chapel, but the characters were vivid. Craig and I read that a recent clean-up of the ceiling revealed the products used in the long-past to remove dust and mold ranged from wine to bread and several other household items. Once these impurities were removed from the paint, Michelangelo’s chosen bright colors shone strongly again.
Unfortunately for Raphael and Boticelli, the remainder of the Sistine Chapel art seems a bit pale and even meaningless next to Michelangelo’s…in my humble opinion, that is.
The Vatican museums are truly treasure troves. From the famed double-spiral staircase to the Egyptian booty dating back to at least 1930 BC, there are amazing images at every turn. They’ve only had over 500 years to build their collections, you know.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Rome 1: The Hotel
Craig’s parents were visiting for a portion of the holiday season and we planned to meet in Rome on the 27th. Craig and I trekked across the city with our rucksacks on, observing as Rome began to stir in the early morning. Craig’s dad, Bart Harrison, travels constantly for his job and so is a Hilton Diamond Club Rewards Member. Very lucky for us, his points carried over to Rome and he reserved rooms at the Waldorf Astoria, or Hotel Rome Cavalieri. This place is BEAUTIFUL. Craig and I boarded the shuttle at the raised-eyebrow surprise of the driver, who tentatively loaded our dirty rucksacks into the luggage compartment before sighing and driving us up the hill. And the looks of the staff at the front desk when we sauntered into the lobby? Truly priceless.
After several days of rooms with no heat, showers that poured onto the toilet and drained out the floor, and nursing a chest cold while sleeping on threadbare blankets and travel-sized pillows, I was in Heaven. There were SIX pillows on my bed, there was a clean bathtub with hot water, and slippers for my cold feet. Also, the staff frequently delivered chocolate before bed.
The best part was the view. We were at the very top of a hill and so we could see Rome in every direction. And when the fireworks began shooting on New Year’s Eve (we were all trying to sleep due to the next morning's "early" flight), we thought at first that Rome might be under attack.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Florence, Italy
On December 23, Craig and I climbed into a cab at 4:30 am, boarded a plane at 6:45, arrived in Rome, Italy at 9ish, and took a train to the downtown station, where, in a matter of hours, we were on a fast train to Florence. I was fighting a sore throat and an earache so each time the train dove into a tunnel, the pressure built in my head and I was miserable. But these fast trains are amazing: the would-be 3 hour drive from Rome to Florence was only 1 ½ hours by train, and the scenery was amazing, all green fields and sheep and hillside homes.
We made our way to the tourist information office when we arrived in a rainy Florence, and the kind man we spoke to kindly reminded us that it was Christmas Eve, and that the next day, most of the city would be shut down (it’s amazing how egocentric we become when traveling). He gave us a list of closures and recommended we skip finding boarding and make our way to the museums that we would not be able to see later. So, we hurried across the city on foot, rucksacks strapped to our backs, and passed through security at the gallery of the Accademia di Belle Arti Firenze. We wandered the corridors, gazing at works by such artists as Botticelli (one of my personal favorites), Ghirlandaio, and, of course, Michelangelo.
I was talking excitedly (who would have ever guessed?) about Michelangelo’s sculptures of The Prisoners when we turned the corner. I was stunned into silence and gave The Prisoners hardly a second look as we gawked at the statue of David, illuminated by a skylight at the end of the corridor. There is nothing that can prepare you for seeing this statue. I’ve seen hundreds of pictures and still, I was shocked by the detail, the size, the sheer perfection. As I probably said to Craig ten times, I would not have been surprised in the least had David stretched out his mighty fingers, blinked, and stepped down off his pedestal to stomp off in search of Goliath. Michelangelo simply is one of the most brilliant and talented artists in human history.
The next morning, Christmas, we attended mass in Florence’s most famous cathedral (Duomo), Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore.
The service was in Italian. We followed the message as well as we could, but also felt captivated by the beauty of the architecture and, in particular, the artwork on the ceiling of the dome, which is a scene of The Last Judgement by Federigo Zuccaro. 
The next day, when the wind shooed the clouds out of Florence and the sun finally shone, we climbed the 414 stairs in narrow spirals to the top of the bell tower to gaze at the view below.
The next day we were up early to make it to the Uffizi Gallery, where I made it past all the tour groups to Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus and Primavera!!! Among other favorite pieces, we saw Titian’s Venus de Urbino and Flora, Francesca’s The Duke and Duchess of Urbino, Michelangelo’s The Holy Family, Da Vinci’s incomplete Adoration of the Magi and his piece The Baptism of Christ, Raphael’s Madonna of the Goldfinch, and Caravaggio’s Medusa. We learned a lot. This was one place we went where the entrance fee was completely worth it!
We managed to do a lot in the three days we spent in Florence. In addition to these places and all the restaurants we ate at, we visited the Piazza della Signora, where we were able to see the original sculpture The Rape of the Sabine Women by Giamnologna,
Perseus as he beheads Medusa by Cellini, 
and Fontana de Nettuno, or Fountain of Neptune, by Ammannati.
We stopped by San Lorenzo, the Medici cathedral hosting the library staircase designed by Michelangelo, the tomb of Donatello, early writings of Dante and Boccacio, and Michelangelo’s The Tomb of Duke Nemours (which unfortunately was closed off to the public at the time).
We paid the overpriced admission fee for the Da Vinci exhibition at what we thought was the Bargello museum but what we later learned was actually pretty much a rented space called the Bigallo, hiding in the corner of the Bargello building. Woops.
We tried to visit the church of Santa Croce where Michelangelo, Galileo, and Machiavelli all lie buried (it was closed every day).
We walked most of the bridges, including Ponte Vecchio. We experienced the expected price rip-offs, including a bill for two coffees and a piece of average tiramisu for 17 euro. And finally, we returned to the train station, freezing and tired (and in my case, now coughing as my cold had moved to my chest), and boarded our train back to Rome.
We made our way to the tourist information office when we arrived in a rainy Florence, and the kind man we spoke to kindly reminded us that it was Christmas Eve, and that the next day, most of the city would be shut down (it’s amazing how egocentric we become when traveling). He gave us a list of closures and recommended we skip finding boarding and make our way to the museums that we would not be able to see later. So, we hurried across the city on foot, rucksacks strapped to our backs, and passed through security at the gallery of the Accademia di Belle Arti Firenze. We wandered the corridors, gazing at works by such artists as Botticelli (one of my personal favorites), Ghirlandaio, and, of course, Michelangelo.
I was talking excitedly (who would have ever guessed?) about Michelangelo’s sculptures of The Prisoners when we turned the corner. I was stunned into silence and gave The Prisoners hardly a second look as we gawked at the statue of David, illuminated by a skylight at the end of the corridor. There is nothing that can prepare you for seeing this statue. I’ve seen hundreds of pictures and still, I was shocked by the detail, the size, the sheer perfection. As I probably said to Craig ten times, I would not have been surprised in the least had David stretched out his mighty fingers, blinked, and stepped down off his pedestal to stomp off in search of Goliath. Michelangelo simply is one of the most brilliant and talented artists in human history.
The next morning, Christmas, we attended mass in Florence’s most famous cathedral (Duomo), Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore.
The service was in Italian. We followed the message as well as we could, but also felt captivated by the beauty of the architecture and, in particular, the artwork on the ceiling of the dome, which is a scene of The Last Judgement by Federigo Zuccaro. 
The next day, when the wind shooed the clouds out of Florence and the sun finally shone, we climbed the 414 stairs in narrow spirals to the top of the bell tower to gaze at the view below. The next day we were up early to make it to the Uffizi Gallery, where I made it past all the tour groups to Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus and Primavera!!! Among other favorite pieces, we saw Titian’s Venus de Urbino and Flora, Francesca’s The Duke and Duchess of Urbino, Michelangelo’s The Holy Family, Da Vinci’s incomplete Adoration of the Magi and his piece The Baptism of Christ, Raphael’s Madonna of the Goldfinch, and Caravaggio’s Medusa. We learned a lot. This was one place we went where the entrance fee was completely worth it!
We managed to do a lot in the three days we spent in Florence. In addition to these places and all the restaurants we ate at, we visited the Piazza della Signora, where we were able to see the original sculpture The Rape of the Sabine Women by Giamnologna,
Perseus as he beheads Medusa by Cellini, 
and Fontana de Nettuno, or Fountain of Neptune, by Ammannati.
We stopped by San Lorenzo, the Medici cathedral hosting the library staircase designed by Michelangelo, the tomb of Donatello, early writings of Dante and Boccacio, and Michelangelo’s The Tomb of Duke Nemours (which unfortunately was closed off to the public at the time).
We paid the overpriced admission fee for the Da Vinci exhibition at what we thought was the Bargello museum but what we later learned was actually pretty much a rented space called the Bigallo, hiding in the corner of the Bargello building. Woops.
We tried to visit the church of Santa Croce where Michelangelo, Galileo, and Machiavelli all lie buried (it was closed every day).
We walked most of the bridges, including Ponte Vecchio. We experienced the expected price rip-offs, including a bill for two coffees and a piece of average tiramisu for 17 euro. And finally, we returned to the train station, freezing and tired (and in my case, now coughing as my cold had moved to my chest), and boarded our train back to Rome.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Santa Claus Came to Town!!
Papa Noel made his appearance at the childrens' classes in The British House this past December. Bet you can't guess who is behind that fluffy white beard!
Holy Toledo!
We discovered where this saying stems from on a recent visit to Toledo, a small city outside Madrid.
My good friend Alex, who I met at UCR and is currently studying in the United Kingdom, dropped into Alcalá de Henares for a visit. The plan to travel to Toledo was hatched on a Friday night when a Spanish friend, Javier (I call him Javi, pronounced Obbie), offered to drive us there. Now, Craig and I have made an attempt nearly every single weekend to visit Toledo, but something has always gotten in the way, be it bad directions to the wrong bus station, or necessary catch-up time for work. So, when Javi made this offer I of course smiled and agreed, but had not even the slightest faith that it would happen. Imagine my surprise when I found myself piled into a Ford (of all cars) and whipping around the curves of the road on Sunday morning.
It was the first time Craig and I had been in a car in nearly three months, and it was pretty much the same except for the scarier, narrower roads. The ride up consisted of small talk, mostly about Toledo’s history and architecture.
Toledo is the only known city, according to the Spanish citizens I’ve talked to, in which Christians, Jews, and Muslims lived in peace for an extended period, especially under Arab rule. It is known as the most religious city in Spain, or the Holy Capital (Holy Toledo!). The city was once the capital of Spain and has passed through the armed hands of the Visigoths, the Romans, and the Moors. The city is known for its military force. It is famous for its ironwork; swords and daggers decorate the windows of the storefronts and museums of artillery and ancient weapons of torture are hidden throughout its narrow streets. The structure of the city itself is that of a fort; the streets are tight and twisting, spiraling and nearly identical, almost impossible to navigate even with a map. It is difficult to continue uphill for too long, and no street leads in a straight direction.
But, after parking near the bullring and working our way slowly upward on cobblestone roads, we reached the palace, or Alcázar. It is gigantic, wide and intimidating, stationed on the hilltop overlooking the river and the military academy. The palace has been transformed into a military museum and (one of the unfortunate things about Sunday daytrips) it was closed.
Toledo is also the second home (and death place) to El Greco, and once again, unfortunately, the museum that features his art was also closed!
We were lucky though—the Cathedral of Saint Mary of Toledo’s doors were wide open to us (after we paid our seven euro each, of course) and we spent the remainder of the afternoon exploring its structure and art, gawking over certain pieces (some by El Greco, including The Disrobing of Christ) and sighing at the extravagance. 
I snapped two or three pictures before a loudspeaker message came on asking everyone to kindly put their cameras away, but the truth is that a camera could not give justice to this beauty and wealth. Alex and I stared up at a carved marble, stucco, bronze, and painted altar for some time, marveling at the exquisite detail and symbolism. Can you believe, he said, that this artwork is older than our country? It is a wonderful concept. Wikipedia tells me that the altar is called El Transparente and that it was constructed by Narciso Tomé from 1721-1732.
One note on the food: Javi took us to a small restaurant called La Abadia. We were led down the stairs into a cool cellar, which I can only imagine is Heaven in the summertime with its stone walls and chilly tile floors. The food is what I would call Chic Spanish, mixing traditional flavors and dishes and adding international style. Craig and I had watched a program about the Spanish food (Anthony Bourdain’s ‘No Reservations’ as a matter of fact) and the expert stated that the Spanish chefs are overtaking the French in innovation and taste. We, honestly, scoffed at this idea at the time, but after tasting the food at this restaurant I may stand corrected. We shared plates of pâté, cured duck, venison with pepper sauce, blood sausage egg rolls, jamón, smoked salmon salad; and finally, a platter of very rare steak, chorizo, blood sausage, ribs, and wine sausage. This girl doesn’t like to eat much meat, and I ate everything that day. I would like to inform you that I tried morcilla (blood sausage) again, twice in one meal, and that it really doesn’t taste bad. Actually, it tastes quite good, a little like barbequed beans with a chalky aftertaste. My psychological side still doesn’t allow me to love it, but I imagine if I didn’t know what it was I might nibble on it every so often. Anyway, the meal was fabulous. If all we had done was journey to Toledo for lunch and returned back home, it would have been worth it for the yummies.
And when you combine good eats with beautiful sights and good company? You can’t ask for much more. Alex, thanks for visiting. We enjoyed having you around!
My good friend Alex, who I met at UCR and is currently studying in the United Kingdom, dropped into Alcalá de Henares for a visit. The plan to travel to Toledo was hatched on a Friday night when a Spanish friend, Javier (I call him Javi, pronounced Obbie), offered to drive us there. Now, Craig and I have made an attempt nearly every single weekend to visit Toledo, but something has always gotten in the way, be it bad directions to the wrong bus station, or necessary catch-up time for work. So, when Javi made this offer I of course smiled and agreed, but had not even the slightest faith that it would happen. Imagine my surprise when I found myself piled into a Ford (of all cars) and whipping around the curves of the road on Sunday morning.
It was the first time Craig and I had been in a car in nearly three months, and it was pretty much the same except for the scarier, narrower roads. The ride up consisted of small talk, mostly about Toledo’s history and architecture.
Toledo is the only known city, according to the Spanish citizens I’ve talked to, in which Christians, Jews, and Muslims lived in peace for an extended period, especially under Arab rule. It is known as the most religious city in Spain, or the Holy Capital (Holy Toledo!). The city was once the capital of Spain and has passed through the armed hands of the Visigoths, the Romans, and the Moors. The city is known for its military force. It is famous for its ironwork; swords and daggers decorate the windows of the storefronts and museums of artillery and ancient weapons of torture are hidden throughout its narrow streets. The structure of the city itself is that of a fort; the streets are tight and twisting, spiraling and nearly identical, almost impossible to navigate even with a map. It is difficult to continue uphill for too long, and no street leads in a straight direction.
But, after parking near the bullring and working our way slowly upward on cobblestone roads, we reached the palace, or Alcázar. It is gigantic, wide and intimidating, stationed on the hilltop overlooking the river and the military academy. The palace has been transformed into a military museum and (one of the unfortunate things about Sunday daytrips) it was closed.
Toledo is also the second home (and death place) to El Greco, and once again, unfortunately, the museum that features his art was also closed!
We were lucky though—the Cathedral of Saint Mary of Toledo’s doors were wide open to us (after we paid our seven euro each, of course) and we spent the remainder of the afternoon exploring its structure and art, gawking over certain pieces (some by El Greco, including The Disrobing of Christ) and sighing at the extravagance. 
I snapped two or three pictures before a loudspeaker message came on asking everyone to kindly put their cameras away, but the truth is that a camera could not give justice to this beauty and wealth. Alex and I stared up at a carved marble, stucco, bronze, and painted altar for some time, marveling at the exquisite detail and symbolism. Can you believe, he said, that this artwork is older than our country? It is a wonderful concept. Wikipedia tells me that the altar is called El Transparente and that it was constructed by Narciso Tomé from 1721-1732.
One note on the food: Javi took us to a small restaurant called La Abadia. We were led down the stairs into a cool cellar, which I can only imagine is Heaven in the summertime with its stone walls and chilly tile floors. The food is what I would call Chic Spanish, mixing traditional flavors and dishes and adding international style. Craig and I had watched a program about the Spanish food (Anthony Bourdain’s ‘No Reservations’ as a matter of fact) and the expert stated that the Spanish chefs are overtaking the French in innovation and taste. We, honestly, scoffed at this idea at the time, but after tasting the food at this restaurant I may stand corrected. We shared plates of pâté, cured duck, venison with pepper sauce, blood sausage egg rolls, jamón, smoked salmon salad; and finally, a platter of very rare steak, chorizo, blood sausage, ribs, and wine sausage. This girl doesn’t like to eat much meat, and I ate everything that day. I would like to inform you that I tried morcilla (blood sausage) again, twice in one meal, and that it really doesn’t taste bad. Actually, it tastes quite good, a little like barbequed beans with a chalky aftertaste. My psychological side still doesn’t allow me to love it, but I imagine if I didn’t know what it was I might nibble on it every so often. Anyway, the meal was fabulous. If all we had done was journey to Toledo for lunch and returned back home, it would have been worth it for the yummies.
And when you combine good eats with beautiful sights and good company? You can’t ask for much more. Alex, thanks for visiting. We enjoyed having you around!
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