DAY 1: (Toledo)
bonus: royal palace of aranjuez
Originally a rustic 12th century hunting lodge, this royal property blossomed into a beautiful butterfly of a palace under the rule of Philip II after moving the capital of Spain from Toledo to Madrid. The palace functioned as one of four seasonal government seats (I “spring” in Aranjuez. Where do you spring?”) Even though Spring is a time of life renewed there are plenty of monarchs who died here with Ferdinand VII having the unique distinction of losing each his first three wives here. (A time for renewal of wives perhaps) The building of the palace and development of the property was continued by Philip V, also known as the Bourbon king (sounding like a self-given nickname of a southern frat bro) who wanted his palace to rival that of Versailles, except the palace went down in flames during the rule of his son Louis in 1748 (total frat bro move). The palace was rebuilt by Ferdinand VI to be modernized later by Charles III, the self-named “Madrid’s Mayor” (the Rudy Giuliani of his time). Most of the design is the work of Francesco Sabatini of Royal Palace of Madrid-fame (“Need a palace built? Call the palace guy,” his radio ad might have exclaimed), but the deco was added over the course of the next few centuries. Most of the gardens were later commissioned by Charles III, famously embracing a political system in favor of agricultural investment (vs. the typical monarchic system of hoarding money in the treasury). He was a pretty good guy by all accounts but he did have his vices (two words: pleasure barge, referring to his favored mode of transport on the adjacent Tagus River). The palace was also the site of major upheaval. In 1807, Spanish Prime Minister Manuel Godoy made peace with a ‘just-getting-started conquering' Napoleon Bonaparte. Despite approval of the acting monarch Charles IV the people revolted against Godoy under the ‘fear of Napoloen’-stoking influence of Charles’ heir (and possible wife-murderer?) Ferdinand IV. Godoy was captured in the attic of this very palace (the Anne Frank of his time) and then forced into exile; Charles IV abdicated to his son who proceeded to sign his own peace treaty with Napoleon (So it wasn’t about national interest, but about gaining power? Join us next time on “How Small-Brained Commoners are Easily Manipulated by Politicians”). The palace, with the government, fell back to the Bourbons and was traded by King Alfonso XII to the dukes of Montpensier in exchange for his future wife (a good deal by ‘women as property’ standards); their wedding marked the final royal event to be held here until your arrival at least. There are no more royals here until now (you, in case you didn’t catch the multiple attempts at flattery) - you won’t receive a royal welcome but you might feel like royalty as you enter the external Plaza de Parejas, referring to the pair-formation of the parades once held here, the ledges graced with statues of Philip II, Philip V, and Ferdinand IV (your royal brethren) a feeling which might persist to the lobby and grand central staircase (depending on the size of your ego). Charles IV was a big-time collector of clocks (“I’ve noticed” you’ll remark as you walk through the many halls of the palace”) It’s worth the time to take a quick walk through the many salons of the palace, adorned with paintings and frescos of biblical and mythic subject and proportions, most impressively in the Queen’s Oratory. Of course you’ll want to see the Throne Room, where the action happened. You can skip the Queen’s Office, because you know any work she had to do was probably purely ceremonial, as well as the bedrooms (likely not much action happening in such polite society). If there is one room you must see it’s Charles’ III Salon de Porcelana, with mirrors to heighten the porcelain effect. It was used as a “playground,” though you definitely wouldn’t be able to throw a ball around in this room - if you break it, you buy it.
Suggested duration: 2 hours. Visit www.madrid-tourism.com for more information.
Toledo (Mirador Del Valle)
Originally called Toletum (like finding out the ugly birth name of a famous Hollywood star), Toledo, the landmark culture capital of Spain, had a humble start as a city of the Carpetani tribe, the Celtic pre-Roman natives of Iberia. It was “incorporated” (a nice way of saying “give it to us or die”) into the Roman Empire in the early AD’s, first as tributary city then as a municipum (a nice way way of saying “give us more taxes”) which came with an influx of public works, such as water pipes and walls, as well as Roman culture such as circuses and baths (or “bread and circus” to keep them distracted from the higher tax rate) some of which are still evident in the age-old streets of modern-day Toledo. After the fall of the Empire, Toledo became the capital of the Visigoth Kingdom, later converting to Catholicism, remaining so until it was conquered by the Moors in 712 AD, only to be retaken by the Christians in 1085 AD. You’d think there would have been a lot of bloodshed here over the years but the power transfers were considerably peaceful and the three religions, including the Jews, lived mostly in harmony for about 700 years regardless of who was in charge. Nothing good lasts though (in Spain or in life) and King Ferdinand and Isabella expelled the Jews in 1492 (convert to Christianity or sail the ocean blue). Toledo briefly reached peak Toledo in 1519, when it became the Imperial Capital, or capital of the Holy Roman Empire under Charles V, before experiencing a sharp economic decline when Philip II moved the court and capital to Madrid. It’s probably for the best as Madrid is now a polluted wasteland and Toledo remains a well-preserved vestige of Spain’s past. Before you enter, take a look at the city in the distance from the Mirador del Valle, so you can see what you’re getting yourself into it before you go.
Suggested duration: 30 minutes.
zocodover
The main square of Toledo since as far back as the last Muslim governance, “Zocodover” literally translates to “market of beasts of burden,” being used primarily as a place where livestock and beasts were sold (“We’ll always be your beast of burden,” a local print ad for the market might’ve exclaimed). It was also used for celebrations, such as military parades and bull fights, as well as for more tragic occurrences, such as executions and the Inquisition (an entirely different beast to say the least). It was destroyed by a fire in 1589, but not rebuilt until 1854 into the nice if not overly-commercial plaza you see today (just the nature of the beast).
Suggested duration: 30 minutes. Visit www.toledo-travelguide.com for more information.
alcazar de toledo & museo del ejercito
Originally built by Romans in the 3rd century, this palace was restored in the 16th century by Charles V and his son Philip II (the royal equivalent to father-son bonding over building a treehouse). It was in this palace that Hernan Cortes was received by the king Charles I after his conquest of the Aztecs (“so… how was your trip?”). In the 1930’s, during the Spanish Civil War, Republican forces laid siege to the castle, which was defended by rebel faction of Colonel Jose Mascardo Ituarte. Legend has it (even if the story happened relatively recently) that the Republics were holding Ituarte’s 16 year old son Luis hostage and order the Colonel surrender or his son would be killed. Despite Luis pleading for his life, Ituarte ordered his son to shut up and die like a man (and you though your father was tough on you). Luis was murdered, probably not right away, but it’s cool to imagine they cut off his head on the spot, like it was an episode of Game of Thrones or something. The successful defense of the castle precipitated an eventual victory by the rebels who went on to establish the dictatorship of Francisco Franco. The castle defense itself served to inspire the far-right newspaper El Alcazar (the Fox News of mid-20th century Spain) lasting until Franco restored the monarchy just before his death (so really he just wanted a shot at being king, despite his ignobility). The palace is now a museum, housing miniature battle replicas (the royal equivalent to toys) among other items including a rare 1930’s Nazi enigma machine, which is actually a Nazi communication encryption device, not a fun Nazi-era board game like it sounds (Nazis have no time for games).
Suggested duration: 60 minutes. Visit www.museo.ejercito.es for opening times and more information.
Santa iglesia catedral primada de toledo
Started in 1226 and completed in 1493, this Roman Catholic Church is considered to be the crowning achievement of High Gothic style, modeled after the Bourges Cathedral in France but with a Mudejar or Islamic twist (or they could’ve just not destroyed the mosque that was here before it, repurposing it into a church and given all that money spent to the people, but that would be too commonsensical). Perhaps it was just an expensive payback for the Moorish destruction of a previously existing church, from as far back as 587, and construction of the mosque. When Moorish Toledo was under a threat of attack by Alfonso VI, King of Leon and Castile, Muslim leader Abu Walid withdrew from power under the condition that the mosque and its people would be spared, an underrated and courageous act that goes against the “ride or die” mentality that’s more common to religion. While Alfonso VI agreed to save the mosque and allow for continued Muslim worship, his “trusty” advisors must’ve been secretly opposed, waiting for their daddy Alfonso to go out of town on business, so they could throw an epic house party, or in their case, seize the mosque and turn it into a church. In turn the Muslims were about to go apeshit and revolt but Abu Walid came up huge again, quelling the uprising until the return of daddy Alfonso, who executed his own ministers for their treasonous acts. None of that matters though, because the mosque remained a church and was eventually knocked down, to be replaced by the current structure with a design attributed to either a “Petrus Petri” or a “Master Martin,” one of which sounds like the name of a mad scientist, the other sounding like a guy trying to make up a fake name on the spot. Most of the more ornate features you’ll see were added in the 16th century to coincide with Toledo’s newfound status as “Imperial City,” which came with budget increases for public works and public health (just kidding about the health part - thoughts and prayers). Starting at the entrance, you’ll see three arched portals - the portal of forgiveness, the portal of last judgement, the portal to hell - what could have been a cool “choose your own ending” story, but the church has already chosen for you, forcing you to enter through the boring forgiveness one. After entering, turn right to the south side of the chapel and walk toward the Mozarabic Chapel; it was supposed to be the foundation of a second tower but settled for a private place for practicing the unique rites of Christians who lived under Arab rule before the reign of Alfonso; while the church normally likes to streamline prayer (destroy individuality) they were were willing to make an exception for the Mozarabic sect, for a substantial tribute of course (money talks, God listens). Back to the central corridor, approaching the main chapel, you find two pillars with statues in front of them. To the left is Martin Alhala, the shepherd who led Alfonso through a hidden pass thus allowing the Reconquista of Spain from the Moors. To the right is Abu Walid whose intervention was instrumental in maintaining a Catholic status quo (sure, in light of the Catholics backing out of their end of the bargain, he may have betrayed his people, but at least he got a cool statue out of it). You might be too distracted to notice the statues, upon approaching the grand Gothic altar, one of the last of its kind before the changing style, brought on by the Renaissance (they don’t make altars like they used to). The retable or assemblage behind the altar is a whopping five stories tall with over two dozen rich sculptural scenes, depicting the life and times of Jesus, each framed in gold paint (how true to his humble beginnings). Behind the main altar is yet another rich gem of an altar, El Transparente, a Baroque masterpiece illuminated by natural light, giving it that “touched by God” feeling (except at night, that’s when the devil comes out). And even the church, above all things material, isn’t above collecting priceless works of art, as you can see in the Sacristy with 15 works by El Greco, including the marble-framed Disrobing of Christ (not nearly as full-frontal as it might sound) along with works by Goya, Titian, Velasquez and Caravaggio. If all the imagery and accompanied gold trimming have you feeling born again (not what Jesus was going for but okay) continue toward the 16th century Chapterhouse for more of the same (“the same” being ridiculously gorgeous surroundings). If you need a break from religion, you can find some solace in the cloisters.
Suggested duration: 90 minutes. Visit www.catedralprimada.es for opening times and more information.
church of santo tome
Like Santa Iglesia Catedral, the Church of Santo Tome was founded in the 12th century by Alfonso VI, riding a massive high after the successful Reconquista of Spain. The church was originally a captured and repurposed 11th century mosque, that later fell to ruin and was rebuilt into a church with Moorish motifs (failing to cite its architectural sources of course), but we’re not here to re-hash the past (the past being the maybe-too long preceding paragraph) we’re just here to see the Francisco Goya masterpiece The Burial of the Count of Orgaz referring to Gonzalo Ruiz de Toledo, buried right under your feet (holy shit) as you’re staring at the painting. Ruiz gets VIP level burial service since he was the one commissioned the 14th century rebuild before he died in 1323. Legend says that the long-dead duo of St. Stephen and Augustine of Hippo were on hand at his funeral (the Christian equivalent of “force-ghosts”) to assist with his burial (seems like he had friends in “high places”). Don’t believe it? The proof’s in the painting.
Average duration: 30 minutes. Visit www.toledo-travelguide.com for opening times and more information.
bonus: museo del greco
For more on El Greco, you can visit the nearby museum dedicated to late late-Renaissance painter, who spent most of his life in Toledo. Sure, this isn’t the house he lived in at any point in his life and sure, there aren’t many paintings of his among the house’s collection. Wait, why are we here then? It shows us what life was like in his time? Sounds like an excuse for that subpar collection. What’s that, it’s free? In that case, count us in. At the very least, there’s a quaint garden out back that you can freely meander in.
Suggested duration: 60 minutes. Visit www.culturaydeporte.gob.es for opening times and more information.
monasterio de San Juan de los reyes
Built by Ferdinand and Isabella aka the Catholic Monarchs, this late Gothic Monastery commemorates the birth of their son Prince John and their victory of Afonso V of Portugal and later, his son John (“Our son is prince of the kingdom. What does your son do? Oh, you don’t have a kingdom anymore? Oh that’s too bad.”) The monastery was originally conceived as a place for the monarch duo to be buried but they later settled on Grenada (better neighborhood and schools). They still made sure to mark their territory with their coat of arms, held up through eternity by some tired AF looking eagles. The monastery was sacked by Napoleon troops in 1803 and wasn’t restored until 1967. Wander round the Catholic cloisters and garden highlighted by non-Catholic Mudejar motifs.
Average duration: 60 minutes. Visit www.sanjuandelosreyes.org for opening times and more information.
STAY THE NIGHT near: Toledo
DAY 2: (Toledo Continued)
ROMAN circus of toledo
Attributed to Emperor Augustus or Flavius, this 1st century Roman circus, now in ruins, doesn’t really seem like an important part of Toledo, but it’s very existence means that Toledo was kind of a big deal, as far back as Roman times. It’s unclear what exactly the circus was used for, whether for naval battle reenactments, as in the Roman Circus of Tarraco, or traditional gladiator fights, (or Gladiators, On Ice!) With the rise of Christianity came the fall of fun, and the circus fell into disuse. The Muslim rule over Spain put the circus to death once and for all, literally, with the property being repurposed as a cemetery, the remains of which are still visible, along with many of the circus ruins. There used to be a theater too but since nobody respects the arts, none of it remains.
Suggested duration: 30 minutes.
Puerta de bisagra & Puerta de Alfonso VI
The most popular gate in Toledo, Puerta de Bisagra Nueva was built in the 16th century upon the foundation of a previous Moorish gate. It’s popular for its grandeur and aesthetics compared to other gates, including a Charles V coat of arms above the entrance, but choosing which gate to see shouldn’t be a popularity contest. If anything, the adjacent Puerta de Alfonso VI, Puerta de Bisagra Antigua, should be celebrated for its durability, having been constructed in the 10th century, in the era of Moorish rule over Toledo.
Suggested duration: 15-20 minutes. Visit www.turismo.toledo.es for more information.
mezquite del cristo de la luz
This mosque turned church is nearly-perfectly preserved from its original state, built in 999 AD according to an inscription on the southwest facade of the structure, indicating it was built by Ahmad Ibn Hadidi “using his own money” (big boy) in exchange for a reward in paradise from Allah (there’s always a catch). Legend has it that Alfonso VI, after conquering Toledo, followed a shaft of light in the church to uncover a hidden Christ statue, hence the name of the church “Christ of the Light” with Mezquite referring to the church origins as a mosque (as opposed to Mezquite BBQ, unfortunately). The spot of the cross is marked by Alfonso’s shield.
Suggested duration: 30-60 minutes. Visit www.turismo.toledo.es for opening times and more information.
Judaria (sinagoga de Santa Maria & sephardic museum)
The Muslims of Toledo and their places of worship weren’t the only victims of Catholic zealotry. The Synagogue of Santa Maria, built in 1180, is the oldest still-standing synagogue in Western Europe though it’s been used as a church since the early 1400’s as the Jewish community didn’t exactly prosper under Catholic rule to say the least. Things started off fine and dandy when it was built under Catholic rule by Muslim architects for Jewish use, a sure sign of coexistence between religions (opposed to common depictions of the Middle Ages being all doom and gloom). The synagogue was possibly built by Joseph ben Meir, the son of the finance minister (so much for dissolving Jewish stereotypes) to Alfonso VIII. If so then it was probably built with his dad’s money (stereotypes be damned), which explains the lack of a proud inscription on the wall, as opposed to the self-funded Mezquite del Cristo (“using my dad’s money” doesn’t make for a good inscription). Everything changed however, when the visiting Dominican priest Vicente Ferrer (who sounds like a smooth soap-opera star but was actually a vicious anti-Semite) delivered a sermon that led to the mass-slaughter of virtually all the Jews of Toledo (the pen is mightier than the sword, especially when the pen inspires the use of many swords for nefarious purposes). The synagogue was turned into a church, and then a monastery, but it couldn’t escape its dark Jewish past, despite its best efforts (you need more than a change in name to clear that up). The collapse of the north wall was the final straw that led to its abandonment and its eventual repurposing as an armory. It was eventually declared a memorial site in 1856 but the attempt at fostering goodwill turned out to be hollow when Jews in 2013 asked for the synagogue to be returned and the church has yet to respond (The request must have been lost in the mail. Did you check your spam folder? That’s where the mail from the Jews usually goes). Not helping the Jewish case is that the current Jews of Toledo are not directly descendent from the old Jews of Toledo (it’s hard to find descendants from people that were mass-murdered). The most distinct feature of the synagogs is the scallop-shaped arch, which at one point would’ve housed the similarly shaped mobile ark that held the Torah, for religious use. Jews like to keep their things mobile to prepare for the next persecution; you know it’s never far away. You can round out your experience at the nearby Sephardic Museum, detailing the history of the Jews of Spain, or you can take a take a stroll around the Judaria, the old Jewish Quarter of Toledo, with its narrow, cobblestone-streets, where the Jews once lived.
Suggested duration: 60-90 minutes. Visit www.turismo.toledo.es for opening times and more information.
Victorio macho museum
You wouldn't normally associate the word “macho” with art, but famed 20th century Spanish sculptor Victorio Macho changed all that, in name at least (he was a softie on the inside). Born in 1887, Victorio left his house in Palencia at the ripe age of 16 to pursue a career in sculpting (“that’s not a career,” most parents would say, but they’re the ones who enrolled him). He left Spain under its dictatorship of Primo de Rivera, living in France, Russia, America, Colombia and Peru, where he met his wife, before he returned to Spain in 1952. In Toledo he set up this home and studio, remarried (you rascal you) and died in 1966. While his body lies in Palencia, his heart and work remain at this now-museum, with Tagus views that will bring out the creativity in even the most macho of men.
Suggested duration: 60-90 minutes. Visit www.toledo-travelguide.com for opening times and more information.
bonus: san martin’s bridge to alcantara bridge
The 14th century bridge of Saint Martin was built under order of Archbishop Pedro Tenorio to replace an older version. Legend has it that the engineer of the bridge didn’t built the bridge properly, and knew it would collapse under the weight of the stones carried across it to build the Toledo Cathedral. Fearing getting fired (in the Middle Ages “getting fired” probably involved actually being set on fire) he confided in his wife, who set out in the middle of the night to set fire to the bridge, preventing it from collapsing by itself (behind every great man is a pyromaniac woman). The townsfolk believed that the bridge was destroyed in a storm. The engineer was hired to build it from scratch, escaping punishment and getting paid twice on top of that. (So moral of the story is if you make a mistake on the job just burn down the whole building before anyone finds out about it). Take the scenic route from Saint Martin’s Bridge to Alcantara Bridge, built under orders of Roman emperor Trajan in 98 AD. What this bridge lacks in legend, it makes up for in sheer amount of explosions, having been blown up on several occasions, to prevent foreign armies from encroaching on Toledo.
Suggested duration: 60 minutes.
STAY THE NIGHT IN: Toledo
DAY 3: (Ciudad Real & El Toboso)
molinos de viento de consuegra
An 1847 account mentions at least ten working windmills in the Calderico Hill, with one windmill possibly dating as far back as the 16th century. The names of the mills are inspired by Miguel de Cervantes’ Don Quixote, whose titular character’s struggle with evil giants is said to have been inspired by the sight of windmills in the distance, a fear that can only be attributed to an over-dose of hallucinogens. Despite being in working order, the windmills are mostly preserved for show, but one is used for an annual baking ceremony (my kind of ceremony) the Fiesta de la Rose del Azafran, held on the last weekend of October (a carb cheat weekend to say the least). Some of the other windmills have been repurposed for various uses, such as a tourist center, a craft shop and a Don Quixote tribute but steer clear of the thirteenth windmill, said to he haunted - especially under the influence of hallucinogens.
Suggested duration: 60 minutes. Visit www.turismoconsuegra.com for more information.
museum quixote (Ciudad Real)
For the Don Quixote enthusiast, this small mixed media museum combines Quixote-themed works of art by Jose Jimenez Aranda, a prominent 19th century Quixote-illustrator, with film reenactments, and a recreated 17th century printing press, all of which come together to transport you back to the time of Cervantes in the very region where the story took place. While the city isn’t nearly as quixotic as you’d hope, maybe quixotic is a state of mind? There are 3500 Cervantes related books to bring out your inner Sancho.
Suggested duration: 60 minutes. Visit www.ciudadreal.es for opening times and more information.
BONUS: Ciudad Real airport
Move over, ghost towns. Ghost airports are in. Opened in 2009, Ciudad Real, also known as ‘Don Quixote Airport,’ had grand plans to become a major global transportation hub only to go bankrupt just three years later (how deliciously quixotic). The airport was doomed from the get-go, being over two hours away from the nearest major city (Madrid), having partnered with just one carrier (Ryanair), and being made superfluous with a simultaneous expansion of Madrid’s airport. You’d think these things would’ve been brought to the investors’ attention before they dropped a whopping $1.1 billion to build it - it’s almost as if they were aiming to fail. Actually, funny you should mention it, a BBC investigation revealed that the main investors had their own construction companies which profited heavily off the construction, leaving the majority small investors to fry like an egg on the hot, empty tarmac of this abandoned airport. If you’re looking for some seriously spooky vibes, a drive around the airport is in order (or a walk if you dare).
Suggested duration: 60 minutes.
museo-casa de dulcinea del toboso
This 16th century house is said to have belonged to Dona Ana Martinez Zarco de Morales, an inspiration for Dulcinea in Cervantes’ Don Quixote (he probably just called her “sweetheart” because he couldn't remember all those damn names). In the tale, Dulcinea was the object of Cervantes’… errr, Quixote’s affections… errr, lust. (“I’m just creeping on you for research for a book I’m writing” an excuse he probably had to follow through with to thwart the restraining order, but still made the story excessively long so he could continue creepin’). The house is more interesting for its recreation of farm life in 16th century La Mancha with a surplus of artifacts from the day though it’s mostly kitchen supplies. You can imagine her slaving away while Cervantes was off on his flights of fancy.
Suggested duration: 60 minutes. Visit www.turismocastillalamancha.es for opening times and more information.