Toledo is a beautiful city. The ride to get here was less so. Cycling through the dark quietness of early morning Madrid centre streets was pleasant enough but an hour on I was still in that edge-of-city hybrid of conurbation and greenery where patches of grass and trees stand in for nature in a landscape formed by man. Some of the wasteland outer suburbs were strung together with scraps of old tarmac road between industrial areas. Dirty and scruffy, they were blocked by concrete slabs at key points to stop vehicle access, presumably to stop fly tipping although the evidence suggested that was not working.
It was well over halfway into the journey before I saw more extensive countryside and the beginnings of La Mancha - a large fertile plateau despite the name coming from Arabic for 'land without water'. I cycled long, straight stretches of undulating roads looking down upon a green patchwork flatness with the red and white of a small towns in the distance. But those roads, though minor, were always relatively busy and never far from even busier ones which I passed over: the main roads and motorways that cut across the area. The last five miles to Toledo, with the square block of its alcázar fort standing pronounced in its outline, were harder than expected - a downhill pedal to counter the headwind that had been building up from late morning.
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| In La Mancha |
Toledo is another city of hills. With its winding, narrow streets and big city walls it reminds me of Segovia but without the aqueduct. But you would always know you were in Toledo: Segovia lacks the shops selling marzipan delicacies, cork goods and steel items ranging from knives and swords to reproduction armour, all products for which Toledo is historically famous. And despite similarities, these Toledo streets feel more confined and enclosed than those I had experienced just four days ago.
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| Cathedral |
Beatriz had arrived by train and together we walked the hilly streets of the old town. In a small house on a quiet back street we watched a short film on the city's history which was enlightening. I knew of its mixed Christian, Muslim and Jewish heritage but I had not realised it was the seat of Spanish power until the move to Madrid in the sixteenth century nor that it had been such a centre of science and culture within Europe. With the moving out of royalty the importance of religion became more pronounced, now evidenced by the number of churches and convents we saw. We walked to the cathedral, like Valladolid so tightly confined by its surrounding streets you could not appreciate its full glory in a single view. However, unlike Valladolid's smooth white, solid block this was a more decorative sand coloured building with towers of rough stone and mortar. In the Jewish quarter we saw the house of El Greco which like all houses here is tightly packed with those around it. It was shut when we arrived and unfortunately is shut tomorrow on my rest day here. Also shut tomorrow is a museum on my wish list, one on the history of the Visigoths who had a significant hand in the development of the city after driving out the Romans: the little I had heard to date about the Visigoths whose actions brought down the Roman Empire seemed to imply a group of violent and uncultured barbarians and here was a museum that might have set the record straight.
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| In my dreams…. |
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| El Greco House |
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| Tagus River |
The evening unfortunately followed on in a similar vein to those museums. We had been looking for a restaurant in the old town but the choices were limited on a Sunday and so elected for a place further down the hill near where we were staying. Despite the promises of Google it turned out to be shut and after a day of cycling and city walking I had neither the inclination nor energy to climb back up Toledo's hills. Fortunately we are in a self-contained flat so we were able to pull together a light - if not that exotic - dinner that satisfied our needs. Nevertheless, I am now looking forward to breakfast.
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