After Shaun's sickness Friday night, you can imagine how tired both of us were when we had to be up at 8. The hotel breakfast was wonderful, especially since it was all you can eat. My friend Libby actually brought a Tupperware to steal bread, yogurt, and apples for lunch. After breakfast, we all meet in the lobby to get on the bus to Toledo. During the ride,the tour guides just kept talking the whole entire time, even though everyone pretty much slept through it. It was a bit of information overload, especially when you have to process it in your head. We finally got to Toledo, which is most famous for being the city of El Greco. While he was Italian (born in Crete) El Greco was called "the Greek" because of his residence in Greece during the Spanish Renaissance. Toledo is also famous because of its many Jewish, Arabic and Christian influences. We first went to la Sinagoga del Tránsito which had some intersting ties to Toledo's jewish history. Later, we went into the Igelesia de Santo Tomé, a beautiful mosque with delicate arabic designs that was later turned into a church. We were walking alot during this time, as Toledo is pretty much all uphill and small streets, like a prototype Italian town. So we were all pretty tired and complaining, much to our tour guide's despair. The complaining got a lot worse once we entered La Catedral, the city's main architectural focus and cultural heart. The cathedral was absolutely stunning, and massive. Huge pillars shot straight up to the sky in the gothic style, illuminated by the mutlicolored light let into by the stained glass windows and domed pendentives. There was a beautiful old organ, which our tour guide told us was only reached by a spiral staircase enclosed inside a hollow piller. The church also housed a small room with more ancient works of art and church relicis. However, I most remember the church because it was absolutely freezing. Literally, it dropeed about 20 degrees once we walked inside. It was so cold that I could see my breath and I think lost feeling in my toes after being in there for about 5 min. My friend Nikki was joking about polar bears running around, and I think it was actually one of the reasons I got really sick the day after.
Once we were done with the church we went and saw one of El Greco's most famous works, The Burial of Count Orgaz. The painting was commissioned by Andrés Núñez, the parish priest of Santo Tomé, for the side-chapel of the Virgin of the church of Santo Tomé, and was executed by El Greco between 1586–1588. It is very clearly divided into two sections, that of the heavenly realm and that of the earthly one. Apparently, the small boy who stands by the corpse of the count was El Greco's son, who he couldn't name as a heir because his mother was a mistress of the artist. So while he never recived any of El Greco's fortune, his illegitimate son was painted into one of the most reknown works of Toledo (a win I say). There is also apparently a extra set of hands that float behind that count's head, which are suppose to belong to the artist himself as a way to memorialize himself into the memory of Toledo's artistic provenance.
After coming back to Madrid, Shaun and I discovered this great vegetarian place called Maoz. Even better, is that it is a chain in Europe and there is one is Barcelona I walked by everyday. Basically all that you really have is the option of falafel in a pita or salad. But then you have a entire salad bar where you can go crazy and put as much lettuce, cauliflower, garbanzo beans, quinoa, or whatever else into your dish. Shaun accidentally put some really hot green sauce all over hers, and had to get another one because her stomach was still really sensitive from the night before. Later, we took a nap and then walked with the other girls into the Plaza Mayor of Madrid, and stopped at our favorite candy shop (it only takes us a day to get our food places down). After walking out, we were approached by these Spanish guys. It was weird because at first they didn't think we spoke Spanish, but before long, realized that we were all pretty proficient in keeping up a simple conversation. However it was strange because while we could understand everything they said, they didn't know any English at all. So when we would talk amongst ourselves in English, they has no idea what we were saying. They kept saying "Español por favor?" and were worrying that we were making fun of them right in front of their faces. While we kinda of were (not in a mean way of course, it was just a really random situation) it was strange to be on the other side of the language barrier. Usually I am the one who is totally clueless, who never understands what is going on as people jabber about in other a bazillion languages. It is definitely very powerful when you have the language advantage in your hands. How odd to finally be on the other side...
The next day in Madrid, Shaun and I chose to do the alternative activity that CIEE offered, which was to go to the Reino Sofia, Madrid's modern art museum. I loved loved loved the Reino Sofia. Usually trippy Spanish surrealism/expressionism/dado art kinda creeps me out. But I was thinking, and it was probably because when we did the whole modern art chapter my senior year of art history it was that time of year in school where you just don't give a crap anymore. And once again, being able to see all the art in real life totally changes things. Just thinking about how all this art from the late 19th century through mid 20th century paralleled what was happening in the world gives me goose bumps: the end of aristocracy, the rise of modernism, the spheres of abstract expressionism and the paradigms of pseudoscience, the oncoming global war and later backlash of postwar society. Ahhh, its so cool when everything lines up and unrolls into a neat cause-and-effect linear time scale. Anyways, my favorite piece of art at the Reino Sofia was La Guernica by Picasso:
Picasso painted the work as a response to the bombing of Guernica, in the Basque country by German and Italian war planes by Spanish national forces during the Spanish civil war of the 1930's. The work captures the sufferings of innocent victims and the trageties of war, thus, it is universally reknown as a peace and anti-war symbol. On the left, a mother cries over her dead child (the bull representing Spain). In the middle triangle, a horse with a spear in its side, and a dead solider on the floor. Picasso's intended symbolism in regards to the light bulb at top is related to the Spanish word for lightbulb; "bombilla", which makes an allusion to "bomb" and therefore signifies the destructive effect which technology can have on society. On the right, a figure with upraised arms screams in a perpetual cry for help as he/she is engulfed in flames. There is much, much more symbolism and hidden images in Picasso masterpiece, but the basic summary is this: the futileness of war and its aftermath. I think I am in love after all these museums visits with Spanish art, hopelessly romantically in love. I got yelled at by a very rude Spanish security lady for taking a picture of Guernica, but got the last laugh because I didn't delete the pictures. It is pretty much my talisman/relic from the Holy Land of Spanish art history. So she is going to have to deal. (oh p.s., to my mother and Matt, The Dream by Picasso is also at the Reino Sofia...)
After the museum, we explored the crazy bustling streets of el Rastro, a market in the Plaza de Cascorro. Once again, I managed to resist up till the very end where I broke down an bought another pair of earrings. The market showcased odds and ends form everywhere including table clothes from India, leather goods from the North, and Spanish pride boxers from...Madrid? I'm kinda sad I didn't get a picture (or a pair) of them actually. Anyways, after that we ate at the vegetarian place again before going back to the hotel and packing up for the return to Barcelona. I was once again glad to be back when the train finally docked and had that overwhelming feeling of being safe in a city where I know how to get around, know the metro stops, and recognize the vibe. Even with Catalan making me illiterate like 75% percent of the time, good ole' Barca was a relief from the crowded and technical center of Madrid. I love my Spanish hippies and sketchy 3 a.m. night walks back to my home-stay, my modernista architecture and university beach-front location. Barcelona, home sweet home.
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