Toledo... Words Cannot Express

I traveled to Toledo after seeing a picture of it online one day.  It spoke to me then. Toledo speaks to me still.

From the minute I stepped off the train, knew I had arrived.  A lively, creative, historically complex energy greeted me and I smiled - which was no mean feat after the day I'd been having.

I smiled all day, everywhere I went in Toledo! I have a new favorite city and Toledo is the one by which all other cities will now be measured. It's enchanting.

My host, Cěsar, was awesome when it came to getting me situated and recommending sights and restaurants.  He even put me in his car and toured me around the city.  We went places it would have been difficult for me to visit alone and we did it in a much more timely fashion than would have been otherwise possible.

Just when I thought it was a walking alley, he drove us up it in his car. Not once did he hit the walls either side and seriously, it was no wider than a King Soopers parking space! People had to jump out of the way! Later, as I journeyed alone through similar alleys, I noticed lots of deep scratches in the stone walls. Most cars seemed to be fairly well scratched in horizontal lines from front to back... so yeah, driving into the old city is a skill that is probably honed over decades and is not for the faint of heart.

From the Parador, we took in the best view of the city.

When Cěsar left me to wander alone I found myself paying for and thoroughly enjoying a walking-audio tour of the cathedral. One of the 3 most significant cathedrals in Spain, along with those in Burgos and Leòn. I kept hearing it referred to as the "primate church of Toledo"... I'm assuming they meant it was the No.1 church, rather than the church of monkeys. 

Either way, it was pretty gorgeous and home to one of the best art collections I've ever seen.  This cathedral is also a fine record of the changes that Toledo had witnessed throughout its long and interesting history. More about that later, maybe. 

There is a lot to see and do in Toledo.  Some is free, most is cheap, all are hard to find! It's a maze of squirrely streets. Actually some don't even look like streets and they all bear enough of a resemblance to each other to make navigation super interesting. There is no straight line to anywhere and no view to help a person like me - someone with a general sense of direction that is based on first knowing where you are and having an abbreviated understanding of the area you plan to get to. But honestly, one of my favorite past times here, was getting lost in this medieval masterpiece.

The Hotel Carlos V has a rooftop terrace cafe.  Cěsar told me about it... Great view of the city he said - Good for pictures.  He was not wrong! 

I took a break in the late afternoon to recharge myself and my phone before deliberately going back out and getting lost again at night. I was as happy as a pig in the mud! 

A bit about the history of Toledo... or at least my understanding of it. Please take into account severe language limitations and cut me some slack if I have misinterpreted bits! 

The name of this city has been in recorded history for about 2000 years. It resisted the advancement of roman legions until 192 AD. Until that point its position atop the hill, steep walls surrounding it and a river circling below, made it easy to defend. 

In 711, the Christians surrendered rather peacefully to Arab invaders. As a result,  they were permitted to keep personal security,  possessions and their own religious hierarchy - including the use of their churches.

At this time,  Toledo was governed from Cordoba. The city constantly rebelled against the government in Cordoba... it had quite a reputation for being rebellious,  in fact. In 807 a new (more violent) governor was appointed by the king and a plan was hatched.  Toledans were invited to a party at the royal palace and as they arrived, they were decapitated and their bodies thrown into a pre-dug pit on the palace grounds. Five thousand died that night. End of rebellion! 

Around 1000 AD, the government broke up and many of the intellectuals in Cordoba escaped to Toledo. It was still Arab ruled, but peaceful. 

In 1085, Christian troops entered the city. But by now they're was a whole different culture thriving in Toledo. Christians living among Arabs (referred to as mixed race) were called Mozarabs. They produced their own form of decorative art, architecture and literature. They had their own dialect and being bilingual gave them additional political power. The Mozarabs refused to give up their culture.  This lead to conflict but eventually they were permitted to continue to practice their own form of ritual. Unfortunately by the end of the 15th century, their rites had almost been forgotten. The culture was rescued by Cardinal Cisneros in 1504.

Today the Mozarab culture lives on in Toledo and it is considered one of the most important Mozarabs centers. The culture is preserved with dialect, music and legislative rites. Is the only western community within the Catholic church, with its own rites. 

*This explains so much of the decoration in the churches over the centuries. I saw lots of Arab design interlaced with traditional catholic decoration in the cathedral...not just here, but in Burgos too. The audio tour refers to the Mozarabs but doesn't explain well enough,  in my opinion. It does point out the Chapel that the Christians were allowed to use in the cathedral under Arab rule. (A small part of the whole church.) Luckily for me, Cěsar left me a book explaining the history of Toledo - in English!

And just like that my stay in Toledo was done.  With the precious gift of a Toledo drawing by Cěsar, in my pack, I hiked back to the train station. It was another lovely day and I was very sad to leave.

Burgos to Toledo: Laugh or Cry?

I walked 5.5 km across Burgos to the main train station, against the advice of my host.

The train left right on time, as they do here and at 11:56am I was Madrid bound.

Then the fun began.

I used most of my phone battery navigating to the station and then taking a Spanish lesson online. Allowing enough to walk from the train station in Toledo to my Airbnb there, I thought.

The train from Burgos arrives to Madrid-Chamartin station.  The train from Madrid to Toledo leaves from Madrid-Atocha station.  They are miles apart. Yesterday Google said it was a train ride between, but today I was only offered a 18 minute taxi ride,  44 minute bus ride (leaving from somewhere nearby-ish) or a 1 hour 10 minute walk. Crap!

I decided to get the Toledo train ticket at Chamartin to speed things up at the other end. Because the human being ticket agent was at the other end of a long queue, I opted to use the automatic ticket machine. Five minutes later I was getting the "remove card" message from that machine, but my credit card was jammed inside.  Stress was mounting, so I did what all non-Spanish speaking tourists should do. .. I called the technical support number printed on the Renfe machine.

I know what you're thinking. But I'm an optimist and people like me will call the advanced language hotline because we honestly think that the tech support guy who answers the phone might just speak fluent English and be able to reach through the phone with a magic wrench to pry that credit card out. Not this time though.  Instead he told me, in Español, to call back after 4 PM and someone will speak English to me. Useful. It was now 2:45 and the train to Toledo left at 3:30 PM... from across the other side of Madrid.

Do I leave the machine and go for help, understanding the risk that it could spit out the card while I'm gone (because  it was already making regurgitation noises) or do I wait. ... indefinitely?!

At the 10 minute mark, with about 35 minutes to get to Atocha left, I abandoned my Renfe machine and ran to the information desk - where I  joined the queue. The Spaniard in charge of my well-being was less than empathetic. "No English" he said.  Then pointed to a different customer service desk and said "English there". Now 50 yards from the machine that ate my card, I had no view to it and worried somebody else would soon be in charge of my spending! Another queue, another 5 minutes. The older woman who received me was quick to point out that she also spoke no English and I should go to the information desk (from whence I'd come).

If there was ever a time when talking loudly with your hands and jumping around with a backpack on is appropriate, I'd like to believe this was it.  "Big problem, credit card in Renfe machina" I said, almost in tears... and wishing I had the luxury of collapsing on the tile floor and crying!

The good news is she understood.  The other good news (for me, but not the next customer) was that she had a solution to this on hand. We ran back to the machine, pushed aside the people trying to use it to buy a ticket and my old lady worked her magic.  She shoved another plastic card into the slot and when she removed it, my card came flying out also!

Elated, I thanked her, then set about finding a solution to my next problem - how the heck do I get to Atocha?!

You guessed it.  Two more queues and I found a guy who sold me an underground train ticket.

Ok, so this is wrong on so many levels, but I started feeling better only after meeting 3 Americans on my train to Atocha who had arrived 2 hours early for their Barcelona train, then missed it.  They were at platform 10, Chamartin and the train to Barcelona left from Atocha, platform 10.

That bad kama is probably what caused my next issue, actually!

Too scared to use the Renfe machine to buy my ticket to Toledo (no, it never came out of the broken machine, so we're hoping I didn't pay for it!) I started asking where to buy one. Seriously, my Spanish is pretty abysmal but I'm sure this man told me "go left, go right, go outside and it's in the plantation". Hmmmm...

The plantation was in fact a tropical garden of sorts and it was kinda outside. Go figure. You guessed it, another queue and now 15 minutes til the train leaves.

The ticket agent sold me the ticket 7 minutes before the train left.  They cut off sales at 5 minutes before, FYI. All I had to do was get to platform 15.

I could NOT make this stuff up.  I ran back and forward in that station looking for platform 15. The only sign I found was platforms 1-12! Finally, because I only had 2 minutes and nothing to lose, I went through security (bag x-ray) under the sign for platform 1-12.  Wouldn't you know it... They have platforms 13, 14 & 15 at the end of 12, but haven't seen the need for a sign yet!

I boarded my train one minute before it's on-time departure. It was moving before I'd found my seat or taken off my pack.

Ok... just one more slight issue for today, unless you count a temperature control problem in my part. (The only clean clothes I had to wear today, were long sleeved thermals and all that running with a pack on and stress was telling me I needed a shower, soon!)

Using the last of my phone battery, I tried look up the address of Cesár, who is my airbnb host. Turns out they renamed his street recently and Google let me down again with its "no results" response.  That's 2x today Google! How am I going to survive, if I can't trust you?!

Alls well that ends well.  Cesár answered my text for help, met me outside, let me shower, launder clothes and gave me a clean room with a comfortable bed from which I was able to recover from my stroke today. He is super sweet and the perfect personality to be hosting/putting up with ridiculous guests like me.

Toledo is already amazing and I've just scratched the surface. :)

Camino de Santiago: Finding Your Way

One of my many concerns, when planning my Camino trip, was my ability to stay on track.  How to not get lost and/or lose my way... Mentally and geographically!

Mentally I think I got lost the second I boarded the flight to Barcelona. Letting go of my attachment to time, plans and any particular outcome happened fairly quickly and was likely one of the more important steps on my Camino journey. I would say I was somewhere in the middle of the continuum in this regard.

In Saint Jean I met a young American guy who had zero plans,  zero attachment to outcome and zero common sense! Obviously a free spirit - which I kinda envy - but with no accommodation pre-arranged in a small village that is the start of the Camino Frances, he was facing either an expensive hotel or a night in the open air. He was last seen tucking a baguette under his arm and heading up the hill to the citadel, where his first night in France would be spent in a hammock.

On the other end of the spectrum,  I met a woman who only had 28 days to spend on the Camino. Her plan was to walk 30km per day and finish the whole thing. My feet were hurting after 20km and I had sturdy boots, some pre-Camino hiking to my name and a light pack. I watched her take off early in her little black sneakers... And I ran into her a week later with a bad knee and a change of heart.

Here's the fun part of this post; finding your way on the Camino is not super difficult. All you have to do is follow the signs. Once you know what the signs are, you'll see them frequently!

A collection of my favorites:

Last, but by no means least, following another pilgrim works well too. They wear a distinctive uniform; convertible pants, hiking boots and a medium sized backpack, often with a flattish sea shell dangling from behind.