España, numero dos!

On Saturday, the goal to go to Toledo for most of the day--it's less than an hour away, and a part of the Madrid visit, apparently--was ruined in part by the busy and kind of confusing Spanish train system, not to mention the poor English of most of the people behind the counters.  We finally got tickets for a 1:15pm train, and set out to see a monastery (only open to Spanish-language tours, which were filled up anyway), an Egyptian temple (given to Spain by Egypt, very cool if random!), and the palace cathedral in the meantime.  It was when we arrived near the cathedral that we realized we really didn't have time to get back but made the mad attempt anyway.  The scramble was almost as ridiculous as the one leaving Vienna (minus baggage, fortunately) but less successful-- we watched our train pull away as we argued with the gate agents about the uncoolness of their closing the platform prior to the train's departure.

We ended up getting a spot of food and bus tickets--longer ride but half the price and an earlier departure--as they wouldn't refund the missed tickets.  I napped most of the way to Toledo, although not long enough to miss that the Spanish women sitting near me was only playing popular American music over her cell phone.  The bus turned out to be a better way into town, as the bus station eliminated the need for a twenty-minute uphill walk that arriving at the train station would've meant.  We spent several hours just walking the streets.  They were almost all narrow and a bit winding, many with religious and cultural hangings and tarps to protect pedestrians from the weather, all of which lent an air of authenticity and antiquity to the whole place, which we rather liked.  There were a couple of churches and two synagogues to wander into--the latter stops were particularly worth it to me, as one had been oddly converted into a chapel and the other had wooden-beam ceilings and Moorish designs.  Not as fabulous as the Spanish Synagogue in Prague, but as this one was, you know, actually Spanish, I didn't mind much.  Unfortunately, Andy's camera had a broken screen, so apparently most of the pictures of both temples didn't come out too well.

Toledo's palace had been converted into a museum, so we perused the old swords and things on display there and then spent a while admiring the ridiculous views at hand.  The old part of the town is atop a hill, so we had a look down at the rest as well as the surrounding countryside.  Like Madrid as seen from the palace, the buildings and streets appear to just stop and give way to extensive forests and farms.  At another overlook, we saw a river with an ancient, half-disintegrated bridge with a lower cliff to which Andy insisted on descending to.  Despite the random tourist ladies nearby screaming that he was being unsafe and asking me if the guy was nuts, he made it back safely and positively delighted.

We found food in a big square packed with people and banners and flowers and took a long and winding downhill walk to the train station.  I'm really glad we took the train back-- it was way faster than the bus, of course, and the train station itself was gorgeous--a small but open, airy space with stained glass and just the right amount of woodwork ornamentation.  We did a tapas dinner at Placa Santa Ana where I had more Manchego cheese and Andy tried about four different variations on Spanish meat followed by microbrewed beer at the bar next door, which came with a dish of nuts (which I like now, apparently).