Barcelona Part 1: Volcano, Schmolcano

After getting back from Portugal, Ramya and I headed out on our own to Barcelona, Spain and Avignon, France. Overall, I'd say that the trip could be described as hilariously terrible-- hilarrible, if you will. The places that we went and the things that we saw were great, but the planning on our part was subpar and our attempts to save money resulted in a lot of unnecessary stress and sleep deprivation.

Pre-Departure
We got back to Seville on Sunday night. In the middle of the bus ride home, someone in our program got word that the ash cloud from the Icelandic volcano had spread further south. As a result, flights everywhere in Europe had been canceled indefinitely, and anyone in our program who had planned trips for that week (read: everyone) was completely out of luck. (By the way, I hereby nominate that volcano for both the "Most Inconvenient" and the "Worst Name" award. Honestly... Eyjafjallajoekull? That's the best you could come up with? Did Iceland's official volcano-namer get drunk and mash a hand on the keyboard?)

After a good amount of panicking and several contradictory online findings, we discovered that all flights up until the day before we left had been suspended, but our flight was miraculously unaffected. Hooray, we wouldn't lose tons of money on non-refundable bus tickets and hostels! After breathing huge sighs of relief, Ramya and I unpacked our bags, repacked our bags, and immediately went to sleep because we had to wake up at the truly unfortunate time of 3:45 a.m. in order to catch our flight to Barcelona.

Before I start describing the trip itself, let me explain our terrible schedule. Every decision that we made was based on cost, so we ended up taking the most horribly-timed buses and flights in the interest of saving money. For example, taking a night bus that went from 7:30 p.m. to 2:30 a.m. Retrospect: MISTAKE. I learned a valuable lesson this past week: always throw down an extra 20 euro to avoid huddling on a bench with a homeless man for hours. (More on that later.)

Monday: Take 6:30 a.m. flight to Barcelona. Spend the day in Barcelona, then take the 11:45 p.m. night bus to Avignon. *No sleep*
Tuesday: Arrive in Avignon around 8:00 a.m., sleep in Avignon.
Wednesday: Spend day in Avignon, leave Avignon at 7:30 p.m. on night bus. *No sleep*
Thursday: Arrive at 2:30 a.m. in Barcelona, sleep in Barcelona.
Friday: Spend all day/night in Barcelona.
Saturday: Spend all day in Barcelona, stay up until 3:45 a.m. to catch bus to airport. *No sleep*
Sunday: Arrive in Sevilla at 8:30 a.m.

As someone who has trouble sleeping anywhere but a dark room on a bed in complete silence, the night buses were less than a good idea (hence the *no sleep* markers). Even as I was looking at our itinerary before we left, I knew that this was going to be miserable. But heck, I'm young and dumb and poor! Let's do it!

Barcelooooona!
How to describe Barcelona? I'll throw some adjectives out there: lively, unique, metropolitan, artsy, bustling, liberal, weird, and above all, fun. It's extremely different from the rest of Spain. For example, the regional language is Catalan, an unholy French-Spanish hybrid that I couldn't understand in the slightest. There's no flamenco dancing, there's no bullfighting, there's no Cruzcampo, their clothing is bizarre, and tapas aren't a big deal. Plus, there are pictures and drawings of topless women just about everywhere you look (you get used to it surprisingly quickly).

We arrived in Barcelona around noon with absolutely no plans for the first day. We wanted to save all of the big, important sights for our return trip, so we spent the majority of the afternoon ambling into random museums. First up: the Maritime Museum! Barcelona used to be Spain's main trading port, and as a result they have tons of old boats and boat-related artifacts.















We all live in a... wooden submarine? What the what?! We were incredulous but it turns out that yes, some of the first submarines were made out of wood. I'm going to make an educated guess that they were also probably not very fun to ride in.




















My word, it's the most fancily-decorated boat I've ever seen! It's 50 feet tall, covered in gold leaf, and has actual paintings on the sides. I want to take it on Lake Travis sometime. Motorboats? Please.




















The first underwater diver's suit. It looks terribly uncomfortable and I'm not sure that it was designed with actual humans in mind. First of all, the suit is about five feet tall and doesn't look as it would fit an adult male. Second of all, there are only three fingers on each glove. Third of all, the shoes are solid metal... isn't that how they "whack" guys in Mafia movies?

After leaving the Maritime Museum, we were a bit hungry so we decided to try something a little more edible: the Chocolate Museum. No, seriously! It's a museum all about the history of chocolate and the process of making chocolate. However, the best part is all the crazy sculptures built out of chocolate.















The outside of the museum. Note that chocolate is spelled "xocalata"-- in Catalan, the x makes a "ch" sound and is at the front of tons of words. Keep this in mind, Scrabble players.















A Roman chariot and horses all made out of chocolate. Honestly, whoever makes these has the best/most delicious job ever. I could never do it, though, for two reasons: A) no artistic talent, and B) inability to refrain from eating sculpting material.

We were pretty tired after the museums-- lots of walking mixed with four hours of sleep is a dangerous combination. Since it was a beautiful afternoon, we decided to go to the beach and rest there. Alas, we never made it: we ran into a patch of grass that looked reasonably inviting about halfway there and immediately collapsed. Here are some pictures taken on the way:




















A giant statue of (you guessed it) Christopher Columbus. Basically every city in Spain has something dedicated to Columbus because they all want a piece of him. Hey, Barcelona, did you forget that this guy singlehandedly caused the downfall of your city in the 1500s? Maybe a giant statue is not the way to go?















A picture of Barcelona's harbor.




















I'm normally a cantankerous old person muttering "kids these days" but this is some of the coolest graffiti I've ever seen! Well done, Barcelona, well done.

After lying in the sun for about an hour, we noticed that the weather had begun looking ominous. Half of the sky was a menacing dark gray... generally not a good sign. In a few minutes, it started to pour. We ducked into a beachfront mall to dry off, and learned that malls in Spain are basically exactly the same as malls in the US: terrible pop music, gangs of awkward teenagers, and lots of the same stores. They even had a Claire's!















One thing Barcelona does have in common with the rest of Spain: an unhealthy obsession with soccer. You can find literally anything with the Barcelona team's logo on it: stuffed animals, scarves, baby bottles, thong underwear (I am not joking).

The rain stopped after a bit (thank goodness, there's only so much time I can withstand inside a mall), and we went outside to sit on the docks while Ramya called her family. The weather was nice enough that even sleep-deprived me could appreciate it, and I took the opportunity to take some pictures.




















A twilight shot of the Rambla del Mar.

We left the docks, ate a quick dinner of pizza, and walked to the bus station. I'd like to note that I am using the word "station" extremely loosely. When you think "station", you think a large area with many workers, a bathroom, clocks, heating/air conditioning, timetables, chairs, etc. Most of all you think a building. There was no building. There was a portable trailer with overflowing trash cans and harsh fluorescent lights and three completely incompetent, listless workers. In Barcelona, which is THE SECOND LARGEST CITY IN SPAIN HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE ARGHHH















The bus station, also known as hell on earth.

Anyways, we got to the "station" about an hour and a half early, because we wanted to see if we could change our tickets. That turned out to be a good idea: there were an insane amount of people at the station who had gotten stranded by Volcano Sdlgahslgkjhdsflkjgzzzzz. Couple that with the half-asleep workers and the line wasn't moving at all. We met a man from the UK who had been trying to get home for a week and waited 3.5 hours just for tickets to southern France. Yikes.

Wait, why did you need to change tickets? The Eurolines website is well-designed but terrible, and I'm about 85% convinced that their webmaster is Satan himself. Why? Ramya and I were buying bus tickets to France at the exact same time. Somehow, the buses that she bought tickets for disappeared as soon as she was finished. Though the buses weren't full, they no longer appeared as options, which meant that we couldn't be on the same bus. I ended up buying the closest tickets available, which were about three hours off.

Ramya's bus was scheduled to leave at 11:45 p.m. and mine at 1:50 a.m., so it definitely wasn't the end of the world if I had to wait. When the bus arrived I asked the bus driver if I could change my ticket. MISTAKE. This lead to the longest hour of my life. I wrote up a giant rant-filled paragraph to try to describe the experience, but it wouldn't make any sense at all to those who weren't there. Let me say instead that the entire bus-station experience was a horrible, bizarre Kafka-esque fluorescent bureaucratic nightmare. To my credit, I didn't cry once, and we ended up leaving for Avignon about three hours behind schedule.

Next post: Avignon!

Portugal Trip: Coasts, Castles, and Cakes

I'm exhausted! In the past ten days I've visited four cities in three countries that speak four different languages, none of them English. Exotic, yes, but also frustrating. Can't wait to go to London next week and order food without resorting to my amateur mime routine.

Why did I have so much time to travel? This past week was Feria, yet another of Seville's week-long holidays in which classes are canceled and all businesses shut down. (They're very anti-working and pro-festival here, which I can definitely get behind.) First, I went to Lisbon, Portugal for three days with my study abroad program. Immediately after that, Ramya and I spent six days in Barcelona, Spain and Avignon, France. We returned early Sunday morning to enjoy the last day of Feria in Seville. In those ten days of travel, three were completely sleepless (oh, trust me, you'll hear why later). Let's start with Portugal!

On Friday morning at 8:00 a.m., we all piled onto the bus for a seven-hour ride to Lisbon. Though I was excited to visit a new country, I really didn't have high expectations. Firstly, the only thing I associate with Portugal are Portuguese Man o' Wars (the less-pleasant cousin of the jellyfish). Secondly, I had heard from multiple people that Portugal was basically Spain, but less fun, poorer, and dirtier.















The main benefit of program-planned trips is that instead of staying at the sketchiest hostels known to man, we stay at nice hotels. It's a bit hard to see, but there are two pots of giant flowers actually WITHIN the revolving door. What?!

We had a little over an hour of free time after checking into the hotel, so Ramya and I decided to walk to the nearby King Edward VII park. It's the second-biggest park in Lisbon, according to my trusted sources at Wikipedia. The weather was pretty gloomy, but it was still nice to explore the city.















A view from the top of the park to the ocean. Even though I walked past it 30 times while we were there, I still have no idea who that giant statue is supposed to represent. Let's go with either Christopher Colombus or Jesus, they're safe bets.

After the park, we heard a talk on Portuguese history and the European Union given by a professor at the University of Lisbon. I found it very interesting-- for example, I had no idea that Portugal was a dictatorship until 1968-- though I'm pretty sure I was the only one paying attention.















A stealth picture of the gentleman who gave the lecture. He couldn't get his PowerPoint presentation to work, providing still more evidence that professors worldwide find basic technology completely baffling. One of my professors at the University of Seville can't even figure out how to adjust the volume on the computer.

After the talk ended, we went on a guided walking tour of the city. It's very charming even though most of the town was destroyed in a 1755 earthquake (which, considering all of the recent earthquakes, was not a comforting fact). I took about 200 pictures of random buildings because Portugal has very colorful, interesting architecture.




















I want to live here! There's no way your life could be anything but wonderful in such a cheery building.




















A massive elevator built in the early 1900s for rich people who didn't want to walk up the hill to Barrio Alto. Fun fact: it was built by a student of Alexandre Gustav Eiffel, of Eiffel Tower fame.















An overhead view of one of Lisbon's main plazas.















The sunset on the beach in Lisbon. Note the bridge in the background resembling the Golden Gate Bridge (they're designed by the same architect, what a one-trick pony).

The next day, we woke up early, ate breakfast, and headed to Sintra, a small town close to Lisbon.















The breakfast was delightful!! I was there for a solid two hours every morning, both stuffing my face and then stuffing my backpack with food so I wouldn't have to buy lunch. (Hey, they were asking for it by providing juice boxes and materials for sandwiches.)















Oh my goodness. This castle in Sintra (called Palacio de la Pena, if I remember correctly) was the coolest thing that I've seen during my months here. It's located in a giant park and, aside from the excellence of the building itself, it provides amazing views. Totally worth the harrowing bus ride and the long uphill hike.















A better picture of the castle, though it still doesn't capture the full amazingness of it. It's a mix of styles-- there's a bright yellow dome, and Muslim arches, and then pink German-influenced towers. I love it when architects can't make up their minds. The inside is amazing too, but no pictures were allowed and all of my stealth pictures turned out pathetically blurry. Alas.




















The terrifying statue over the main entrance-- it's some sort of mythical sea creature, according to our guide. It also looks a lot like me when I don't get enough sleep. Coincidence?

After leaving the castle and eating a quick lunch, we headed to the Tower of Belem on the coast. The Tower of Belem an ancient military tower meant to guard the entrance of the Tagus River. It's about seven stories tall, all connected by one narrow, winding staircase.




















Sorry, Seville, but this tower is way better than the Torre del Oro.




















Hanging out in one of the guard posts. Note how small the door is-- I had to duck to get in. People in the past were just adorably tiny (thanks, poor nutrition!).















One of many narrow but deep pits in the tower that were used as jail cells back in the day. Least fun jail ever. At least they had the soothing sounds of the ocean, I guess?















People sailing on the coast.

After leaving the tower, we drove to the nearby Hieronymites Monastery. It was built in the 1500s by the Portuguese king Manuel I to commemorate the successful return of Vasco de Gama (who is now buried inside the church) from India.















This is the 10th cathedral that I've seen so far on my trip! Double digits! (Granted, it's not officially a cathedral but it's enormous, so I'm pretty sure that counts.)




















It's very similar to the churches in Spain in terms of size, but the inside is much simpler. Less gold leaf, fewer statues of Mary and Jesus, fewer decorations in general.















The courtyard of the monastery.

The very last thing we did in Portugal was to try their most famous sweet: pastéis de nata. The pastry shop we went to in Lisbon is world-famous. It has the original, top-secret recipe for the cakes and sells 10,000 a day on week days (20,000 on weekends). It was the largest bakery I've ever seen and was completely packed at 4:00 p.m. on a Saturday.















Two "pastéis de nata", loosely translated as cream cakes. I was skeptical, seeing as there's no chocolate involved, but they were fantastic!















Hooray for cakes!

Ok, that's about it for Portugal. Next up: the debacle that was our trip to Barcelona/Avignon.

Senora 2.0

As I've briefly mentioned, two weeks ago I moved out of my original homestay and into a new apartment with a new senora in a new neighborhood. Moving out was super-awkward even by my standards (long story short: she came home after a week-long absence just as I was grabbing my last bag... worst interaction of my life) but it was totally worth the effort.

Why did you move?
Well, my senora was gone about 50% of the time-- guaranteed absence every Wednesday, Saturday, and Sunday, plus the occasional Monday-- and often didn't leave me anything to cook while she was gone. (Fatty was not happy with this arrangement.) Also, she did my laundry about once a month, which is extra gross when you consider how few clothes I brought to Spain. To top it all off, she didn't seem to like me very much. Can't really blame her for that, for I am significantly less intelligent/charming in Spanish, but still.

What's your new senora like?
In a word: amazing! She is incredibly senile and quite possibly illiterate, but I love her. She calls me guapa (pretty), carina (sweetheart), and hija (daughter) constantly. It's adorable, and the fact that she calls me these things because she can't remember my name is absolutely beside the point. She knows nothing about me except maybe the fact that I will eat anything she puts in front of me, but she loves me unconditionally anyways. She gives me besitos (kisses on the cheek) every time I leave the apartment. It's glorious.

Like many other elderly women in Sevilla, her favorite and only pastime is watching television. I'd conservatively estimate that she watches about 7-10 hours of Spanish television every day. However, I don't think she's absorbing much of it, because if you ask her what's happening on any given show, she tends to have little-to-no idea. She also talks to the television constantly, which is adorable. News programs, telenovelas, the weather-- you name it, she'll have a conversation with it.
News anchor: Thank you for watching.
Senora: No, thank you, sweetheart! See you later.

Also, our communication tends to be hilarious and ineffective. She has a very very strong Andalusian accent (thick lisp, cuts off the ends of words) and speaks no English whatsoever. I'll ask her a question about something, she'll misunderstand it and give me an entirely different answer. I told her that a meal was delicious on my first day in the house (nothing complicated, just "this is delicious") and then spent about five minutes trying to explain what I said. I ended up rubbing my stomach and giving her a thumbs-up. Basically, our communication is a mixture of "Who's on First?" and charades, and we usually end up just staring at each other.

Sample exchange from earlier today, watching the news during lunch:
Me: Oh, Zapatero is in Washington for the nuclear summit. What's his policy on nuclear arms?
Senora: That's Jose Zapatero.
Me: No, I know, but what does Zapatero think about nuclear arms?
Senora: Zapatero is the president of Spain.
Me: ...
Senora: ...

In any case, my stomach is full of delicious food and I am wearing clean socks for the first time in weeks, so I'm more than content!

Me Encanta Semana Santa!

Last week was Semana Santa, Seville's most popular and most important religious celebration of the year. It was probably the craziest, most ostentatious display of religiosity that I have ever witnessed in my life, and I loved it.

What is Semana Santa?
Semana Santa (Holy Week) is the week leading up to Easter. As you can imagine, it is a huge deal throughout all of highly-Catholic Spain. However, southern Spain is the place to be during Semana Santa because they do it up RIGHT. According to Wikipedia, "Seville arguably holds the most elaborate processions for Holy Week anywhere in the world." We're number one! Suck it, Madrid!

Where did it start?
The traditional processions date from the 16th century and have spread from Seville to many other cities inside and outside of Andalusia. The processions were originally intended to be a reaction against Protestantism, which was gaining popularity at the time. I imagine the exchange went something like this:

Luther: The Catholic Church is corrupt-- you spend way too much money on your obscenely ornate churches while the poor are dying in the streets! The way you worship statues of Mary and Jesus is disgusting.
Catholic Church: You think we have too many idols? We'll show you too many idols! All right, boys, cover everything in gold leaf and take it out into the streets!
Luther: ...I seriously hate you guys so much.

What actually happens during Semana Santa?
Sevilla's Semana Santa is notable for featuring the procession of "pasos", which are life-size wood or plaster sculptures of scenes from the last week of Jesus's life. For example, Jesus being beaten, Jesus falling with the cross, Jesus hanging on the cross, Mary weeping over Jesus's corpse, etc. There is no such thing as a happy paso. It's also interesting to note that the pasos come out in no chronological order whatsoever— you´ll see Jesus dying on the cross on a Monday and then Jesus just chilling, tied to a pole on Wednesday. Below are some pictures of pasos in Seville.

How do they get around the city?

These pasos are physically carried on the necks of men called costaleros, so named because of the "costal", a sack-like cloth that they wear over their neck to soften the burden. Doesn't soften it much, in my opinion, because the pasos are covered in precious metal and can weigh up to five metric tons. (I'll never complain about my laptop making my backpack too heavy again.) Depending on the size of the paso, there can be 30-40 men underneath supporting it for up to eight hours. Below is a picture of some costaleros under the base of a paso.

But who's behind all this?

The pasos are set up and maintained by hermandades and cofradías, ancient religious brotherhoods from various parts of the city. Members of these organizations traditionally precede the paso dressed in Roman military costumes or penitential robes. Most members wear the penitential robes with conical hats, or “capirotes”, which conceal their face. These "Nazarenos" carry processional candles, often walk the city streets barefoot, and may wear shackles and chains in their feet as penance. A band usually accompanies the group, playing funereal religious hymns or "marchas" written for the occasion.

Freaking out yet? As you may have guessed, these robes served as the inspiration for the uniform of the Ku Klux Klan. (It's important to note that they're not affiliated in any way.) As a result, Semana Santa can be TERRIFYING for Americans, even if you know what to expect, and Spaniards like to make fun of us for that reason.

Fun facts:

In the eight days of Semana Santa, a total of 57 brotherhoods carry their 116 pasos from their church to the Cathedral and back. Around 60,000 brothers participate actively in the processions. The number of spectators rises over 1,000,000 people during the most important moment of Semana Santa in Seville: early morning of Good Friday, when the brotherhoods of El Silencio, El Gran Poder, La Macarena, El Calvario, La Esperanza de Triana and Los Gitanos set off for the Cathedral. The below pictures show how ridiculously crowded it can get during Semana Santa. (I happened to try to cross the bridge to get home at the same time as a famous paso-- it took literally 30 minutes to muscle my way across.)

One important thing to note is though Spaniards love Semana Santa, Easter is surprisingly not a big deal. (One of my professors said, "No one in Seville likes Easter. Easter means the end of the party.") In fact, churches are much fuller on Good Friday than on Easter because everyone goes to the beach or sleeps in.

That's about it for Semana Santa-- I witnessed only three days of it, but I had a great time and I highly recommend seeing it in person if you have the opportunity. You can't capture the fog of incense or the incredible sound of the bands in pictures.

My next update will describe my amazing new senora!

Toledo: I've Never Seen so Many Nuns in My Life

Wow, much has happened since my last post on Madrid, the most important/noteworthy thing being that I have moved into a new house with a new senora. I'll make a post all about that later, but right now we're keeping things chronological. Onto Toledo!

TRIP 3: TOLEDO
Meredith and I left Madrid on Sunday night and took a surprisingly short bus ride to Toledo. Before I start on a report of our actual trip, I'd like to tell you a little bit about the city itself. It's known for the following three things:

1. DON QUIXOTE: Toledo is the capital of the province of Castilla-La Mancha, AKA the place where the novel "Don Quixote" took place. You think Madrid liked Cervantes, with their giant monument? Cervantes is Toledo's god. There are windmills, knights on horses, plaques, and statues everywhere you look.




















A statue of the aforementioned gentleman. This must have been the first day because after the first few hours, I just stopped taking pictures of the Quixote-related stuff. I'm over it, people!




















These signs were all over the place. I assume they denote places that correspond with events in the books, but there was one right next to a Four Seasons hotel. Somehow I doubt the book reads "And verily, after Don Quixote fought the windmills, he and his faithful companion Sancho Panza stabled their horses and laid their heads to rest at the elegant yet affordable Four Seasons." (Missed opportunity, but product placement was a very new concept in the 15th century.)

2. RELIGIOUS TOLERANCE: Due to its centralized location, Toledo has been Spain's capital several times throughout history. It was famed for its religious tolerance-- Jews, Muslims, and Christians living together in perfect harmony-- until the Reyes Catolicos showed up and expelled the Jews in 1492. The Muslims were allowed to stay for another decade, but they got kicked out too in 1502. PARTY'S OVER!! EVERYONE OUT!!















This is a portrait of Queen Isabel, the fairer half of the Reyes Catolicos. My god, even with a portrait artist that had to produce something extremely flattering or risk death, she still manages to look like Droopy Dog. (Google it if you don't know what I'm talking about.)

3. SWORDS/ARMOR: As you might expect from a city that has maintained its medieval walls and buildings, swords and armor are kind of a big deal here. There are countless shops selling knives, swords, shields, and other assorted dangerous metal objects.















Meredith with a large display of swords. My question: seeing as there are so many shops, who on Earth is buying all of this stuff? I can't imagine trying to justify purchasing a $2000 sword: "Well, I do need to protect myself from the neighbor's beagle and all..."




















Even more ridiculous, and more expensive, than the swords are the suits of armor. Yes, let me just pop that in my carry-on bag for the ride home! Not like it's a six-foot-tall suit of pure metal or anything.

Now that you're familiar the city a bit, onto our actual trip. (Note that I am not going to list every thing we did, just the important ones, because I am terribly lazy.)
When we arrived in Toledo, we realized that neither of us had thought to print directions from the bus station to the hostel. All the maps that we had brought with us only showed the area of the city within the walls, which was no help at all. Game plan: walk in one direction until we see a wall that looks sufficiently medieval.















Miraculously, our plan worked and we ran into the city walls, pictured above. Now that I look at it, I don't know what the deal is with the shadows in this picture-- maybe the area I was standing at was haaaauntedddd?















The towers on the Puerta de Bisagra (the main entrance to the city).

We found our hostel rather easily (not such an impressive feat, considering that you can walk from one end of the city to the other in about 15 minutes), dropped off our stuff, and decided to walk around the city while the sun set before getting dinner.















The relentless hills of Toledo, while miserable to traverse, make up for it by providing excellent views. The large building you see in the middle is a former hospital, current museum. What is the deal with all these amazing hospitals/libraries/post offices? Getting sick/checking out a book/mailing a letter would be the highlight of a peasant's life.

The next day, we woke up early, ate a nutritious breakfast of bread and Nutella, and left to explore the city and see the sights. Our first stop: the Museum of Santa Cruz. It contains all sorts of historical objects from the city: Roman gravestones, medieval tapestries, sarcophagi, ancient paintings, etc.















The outside of the museum was also amazing (coincidentally, it used to be a hospital as well). Now that I think about it, there wasn't an ugly building in the entire town. I guess one of the perks of being a medieval walled city is that you could completely avoid the hideous architecture of the 1970s.




















One of many enormous 20-foot-tall tapestries in the museum. This one depicts Alexander the Great almost drowning to death, if I remember correctly. Just think how long it took them to complete one of these! YEARS.




















The famous painter "El Greco" came here to paint something for a church and liked the city so much that he decided to live here. As a result, Toledo is the place to go if you're looking for some El Greco action. I'd estimate that we saw about 30 or so of his works during our time there?

After the museum, we decided to stop and try some marzipan, the confection that Toledo is famous for. It's comprised mostly of sugar and almonds and is, as a result, pretty delicious. To be honest, though, I'd still take uncooked brownie mix over it any day.















I know what you're thinking: what does this picture have to do with the above paragraph? This three-foot-tall castle is made entirely of marzipan. Awesome.

After the marzipan, we headed to the famous Cathedral of Toledo.















Another panoramic photo of the city, this one taken during the daytime. I have about 49054345 very similar pictures, because the hill on which this picture was taken was stupidly steep and I would take any opportunity possible to rest.

On the way there, we passed by one of Toledo's countless monasteries and convents and saw a sign for sweets. If you weren't aware, many convents in Spain actually make their own confections and the nuns sell them out of the convent. It is, as you can imagine, adorable. We thought that we wouldn't be able to afford anything, since they're usually sold by the half-kilo and pretty expensive. However, the sign mentioned something called "Pan de Angel" (Angel Bread) that was only $0.60. Sounds good, we thought, maybe it's angel food cake! We like that! After lunch we came back to the convent and eagerly bought some from the nun. Guess what it was?

Communion wafers. A giant bag of communion wafers. WHAT?! If you are Catholic, you know how remarkably bland those things are. They're basically cardboard... with less fiber. The ingredients on the bag were literally "flour, water". Worst. Dessert. Ever.




















Meredith enjoying what might just be the taste sensation of the century. I can't believe we got scammed by Spanish nuns!

After several detours, we finally got to the Cathedral of Toledo in the afternoon. I've seen my fair share of cathedrals in Spain, so I wasn't expecting to be impressed much. Yes, yes, crying Mary, dead Jesus, I've seen it. However, it was definitely my favorite cathedral we've seen so far. It's a crazy mix of architectural styles because there were so many different architects over the years it was built. Factor in that their overall architectural motto must have been "FIVE OF EVERYTHING!" and there's a ton to look at.















The outside of the cathedral. There's a Gothic tower on the left (mostly out of the shot due to size), a Mudejar cupola on the right, and a huge Neoclassical entrance around the corner... seriously, guys, pick one style and go with it.

Another reason I liked Toledo's cathedral was because they had a "Treasure Room" which served the dual function of housing all of their most precious objects and making me feel like a pirate. It was really unbelievable: there were 12th century swords that were later owned by Franco, some of the first bibles ever printed, and enormous jewelry that church officials used to wear. (Let me be the first to say that those dudes invented bling.)




















The main treasure of the treasure room: you really need to see this in person, as it looks much less impressive in photos. This gigantic solid gold-and-silver object covered in jewels is paraded around the streets during the festival of Corpus Christi. It's stunning, but goodness knows how they carry it. Note Meredith in the right corner for scale.

We stayed in the cathedral until about 7:00, then headed back to the hostel to rest for a bit before dinner. We had a television in our room (though they called themselves a hostel, it was definitely a hotel) and watched some truly perplexing Spanish television for a bit. A little before nine, we decided to leave to see if there was anything going on in the city for Semana Santa. We had the ridiculous fortune of running right into a procession!















Christ being raised on the float-- it was too big to get through the church doors upright. If you are wondering what in the hell is going on in this picture (goodness, I know I would be), just wait a few days for my update about Semana Santa. Let me just say that it is awesome and we don't have anything in the U.S. to compare it to.

The next day, we started off the day by visiting the Jewish quarter of town and Toledo's synagogues. (Fun fact: there are only three medieval synagogues still standing in Spain, and two of them are in Toledo. Funner fact: I've seen all three!)















Ancient Jewish objects from the Jewish Museum inside one of the synagogues. Incredibly cool!

After leaving the Jewish Quarter, we decided to check out the bridge built by the Romans on the east side of town. It was both bigger and more-remodeled than I expected.




















The bridge (see person in the bottom right-hand corner for scale).

The last big thing that we saw in Toledo was the Monasterio San Juan de Los Reyes. It's a giant monastery built by the Reyes Catolicos (yes, the same ones who kicked out all non-Catholics). It was intended to be the place where they were buried, but one of their grandkids decided to build them a huge tomb in Granada. Which I also have seen! I am all over Spanish history!




















A picture from the first floor of the monastery. Heck, I'll totally devote my life to God if it means I get to live here!

Can you feel me running out of steam? It's getting terribly late and I'm getting progressively tired and cranky. Long story short: that night we ate some food and saw more Semana Santa processions. The next morning, we headed back to Madrid, then caught a bus back to Seville. Luckily, we planned our trip so that we would see the craziest days of Semana Santa in Sevilla: Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. I'll leave that until the next post!