Buenos Martes, y’all.
You know how I grew up in Houston, right? Houston is completely flat–devoid of any changes in topography whatsoever. Great for the lazy; terrible for driving. Spain (or at least the cities I’ve been in) is the exact opposite, and Toledo, the capital of Castilla La Mancha, one of the autonomous communities in Spain (I obviously just took my Cultura test, huh), is known for its hilliness.
BUT I’m jumping ahead. First let’s go through my week. Monday I went to the Reina Sofia. World famous museum with Nebrija provided guides. ‘Twas magnifico. I’m personally in love with Salvador Dali, so seeing his works was so incredibly…what’s the word for it? Oh yeah, surreal.
There was this lesser known artist, too. I think it was, ummmm, Picasso? He painted this mural called “Guernica.” Maybe you’ve heard of it.
The rest of the week was pretty grueling. I had a couple of midterms (What? This early in the year?) since I’m involved in some sort of intensive Spanish learning course for September.
My mind got a little exercise, and on Saturday, my body did, too. I am referring, of course, to the excursion to Toledo, city of three religions and (seemingly) endless hills.
It’s got Arabic, Christian, and Jewish influences.
I tried to go for the panoramic, but people kept on moving (myself included), so there are def repeats.
After visiting the mosque turned church, my stupid camera died on me, so there isn’t any more documentation of Toledo. Once people start tagging me on Facebook, I’ll definitely put more up. The Cathedral was UNREAL.
Saturday night, when we got back from Toledo, was La Noche en Blanco, Madrid’s “let’s all go out and not come home until really early in the morning and the museums are free but you have to stand in long lines” night. The streets were packed, the plazas more so, and I don’t think I’ve been more tired in my life. The cumulative effects of hiking (pretty much) through Toledo four times (to be explained) and dancing in Plaza de Espana were a little much. The back muscle of my left leg was been sore to the point of spasming on occasion.
Why was I forced to traverse Toledo so many times? There was a biking competition known as la Vuelta going on at the time we went to visit. It’s a sort of Spanish Tour de France. Wait, no lie, it is the Spanish Tour de France. The bikers went through Toledo so some of the main roads were closed. As such, the bus couldn’t come get us and we were forced to endure an hour more of Toledo’s glorious fairy-tale castles and such. I know, my life is soooo cursed.
Good news is that Sunday, when the bikers were going through Madrid for the last part of their race, my friends and I got to cheer on their spandexed, super toned cuerpos as they pedaled past us. My friend Jess, a Dutch girl, got really excited seeing her home team compete. I had no idea if there was even an American team there. My bad.
Kay, off to dinner with the girls. Updates soon, te prometo!
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