TO-LEDO!

Early the next morning, we grabbed a quick breakfast at the hostel and rushed to Atocha station, where the electronic kiosks once again let us down. Matt and I grabbed our tickets from a cashier when we turned around to find no Sable or Ross anywhere in sight. In our car, the exterior temperature said: 26 C. Interior temperature: 24 C. Hmmm. Insulation not so good. I was getting hot and a bit sick, so I tried to sit up away from the seat to reduce the rocking motion.

The Spanish countryside is full of red rock and green, stubby bush. It's everything I had imagined it would be. When we arrive, only half an hour later, Toledo is already hot. We exit the station and I buy a bottle of water first thing. Sable and Ross are shooed to do their own, rapid walking while Matt and I take the long way up the hill. There is a pedestrian walkway that crosses into the New City of Toledo and, if you continue up the hill, to the Old City. The new city is boring, with the most unimpressive fountain in their sole traffic circle ever. A young blonde was smoking up the hill in front of us and attracted the attention of a very drunk man, singing his own theme song. He passed her, spun around and sang louder, obviously checking her out. We follow her up the hill and through the gates into the city. Inside, it's like living in a gigantic castle. Toledo is famous for its many beautiful and old buildings paying homage to Catholic, Islamic, and Jewish faiths. I get an ice cream and Matt buys a gigantic bottle of Aquarius. We make our way to some arbitrary point at the top and come up on a square with all of the tourist places. MacDonald's, for instance. I make a stop at Bereshka to buy some tops and a pair of leggings. We walk through the shopping district and I realize that I am sun exhausted. Sick and tired, we stop at a bar under an umbrella where a woman starts yelling at me from an adjacent table because I am trying to pour my water into a glass without removing the safety seal.

We walk some more, trying to shop, and even find the most whimsical candy shop in the world. The man up on the ladder is wearing a bubblegum pink apron. He swung his arm down to offer us a sweet cookie. Matt purchased a giant box of candy, complete with a large ribbon to seal it shut. I wanted to buy some sweets - Toledo is famous for it's turron! - but I decide against buying any here. Down the hill we go, around and around in circles. Up again, looking at gigantic buildings that look like they belong to royalty. Eventually, we leave the Old City and walk down toward the train station again to eat lunch. This time down, however, we found the magical, outdoor escalators that took us down into ... a parkade. We pull out our juice, pan, and fruit. It's too hot though and our appetites are very small. Trying to get out of the sun, we wander around the empty New City to look for shade. We find only narrow streets and empty buildings. Matt suggested that we walk up the hill another direction and we find a mansion with open gates. We walk inside and up some stairs to what looked like it could have been an adventurous look out, only to find a very bald patch of grass overlooking a fenced-off pool. The pool made us think that this was no tourist lookout so we climbed the stairs down only to find our entrance barred off by iron gates. We walk past a gardener who was looking suspiciously at us and up some stairs. Small groups of young people were talking in English on the terrace, so we assumed it was a hostel. We followed some people out of a small back door and out again. Phew. We walk farther up the hill and stop at a rotunda just in front of the hospital. It's breezy and hot and I am beginning to feel a bit better. Back down in the New City, we find a restaurant that has VLTs for its regulars and offers gigantic sandwiches. Matt eats and I pick at tapas. We have a drink and contemplate buying cigarettes from a vending machine but decide against it at the last minute. Back at the train station, our train still has not arrived and we are very bored. We sit in silence for a while before boarding our train and going back into Madrid. The outskirts of Madrid could be Toronto's outskirts, if it weren't for the dry and desert-like summer conditions.

To the Prado! This was a mission that really should take as much time as the Louvre. There is too much! The Thyssen had instilled in Matt and I a deep love and appreciation for El Greco whose artistic flair was beyond his time. He loved making people appear green and slightly sinister (even Jesus) just by outlining their figure in a deep black aura. The strokes, the definition, the expressions were all reminiscent of a comic book. We had fallen in love with a painting that was supposed to symbolize budding sexuality: a monkey, a man, and a magician were staring at a crystal ball that was glowing between their hands. Here, entire rooms were devoted to his visions - Jesus walking on clouds of dead babies. Innocence taken in the same way he would be slain. Another favourite: Goya's Pinturas Negras. You have to go all the way to the basement and far to the right but it's worth it. Saturn Devouring One of his Children depicts a long-faced God with his mouth open and dripping with the blood shed from one of the human beings he has just began eating. His eyes are incredibly terrifying. They are dark, they are intimidating, and they will pierce your soul to depths you swore weren't there. They speak to the darkest times of Goya's life and far beyond the darkest parts of my mind.

Across from the Goyas, you will find classical sculpture. Beautiful, white, marbled sculptures missing toes, noses, genitals, and other things that authenticate them as real. In two short hours, however, we were finished and I had only seen Goya, El Greco, and the sculptures!

On Ross' request, we head to FresCo for dinner where Sable learned we had eaten twice before. She made us jealous with tales of Finnish hippies who hosted her in Porvoo. We stayed for a while and walked to the fountains near the Royal Palace where many couples were already in the position. A tour guide gave information about the fountain in an indeterminate language while we listened and tried to divine the language but failed. Matt gave us a hoe-down photo shoot and we left the palace and all of its romance to show Sable the other side of it. Ross let his hair down and shook it in the breeze. We walked for a bit around Madrid, savoring its feeling before going back to the hostel, checking some e-mail, and heading to bed.