From my handwritten travel journal:

May 18, Thursday

It was easy to sleep on the plane after a passable airplane meal and several games of Mancala (in which I gathered increasing score disparities between me and the computer). I awoke to a continental breakfast. The LCD screen now says that we are traveling at Mach 0.84 and are nearing the coast of Portugal. I've already filled out one piece of paperwork for customs -- a disembarkation card, printed in a half-dozen languages, and English is not the primary one. It will be 45 minutes before arrival. I'm going back to sleep

We arrived uneventfully at 10:00 AM. As I entered Madrid's airport, I remembered reading about architecture in Spain. Many of the most revolutionary examples of 20th century architecture stand in Spain, and the airport reflects that. It is positively beautiful. The terminal has high, soaring ceilings, polished chromed chairs, and walls of glass. Trees grow in rows inside the building. It's much nicer than any airport I have ever seen, and it was spotless.

It was also a smoking free-for-all zone.

I noted to Jennifer, "We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto." Then I actually at the windows and wondered for a moment whether I was in Kansas.

The countryside around Madrid is a flat, sun-baked plain, with few trees. It actually reminds me more of New Mexico.

We waited in lines and waltzed easily through customs. Katie was struggling with her massive backpack, worrying that she would soon be doing a turtle impression on the floor. Yet we made it out of the building and to our waiting bus without injury.

The bus was a posh, charter job with plush seats, high ceiling, and air conditioning. And it was all ours. We stretched out and lounged and basked in the air conditioning. The temperature outside was already quite warm, and the sky perfectly clear.

The bus ride from Madrid to Toledo took about an hour or so. We were all pretty quiet; most of the others fell asleep. I constantly watched the landscape as we drove by.

The wildflowers are in full bloom along the highway, but the sun bleaches them into a faded pastel palette that blends into the baked clay earth they grow from. Random patches of erosion line the road. The city buildings stand a comfortable space away from the highway, separated rarely by long, graffiti-covered walls. Most of Madrid's buildings seen from the road are in blocky, stark International Style. Apartment complexes are positively gargantuan, the size of several square blocks of Minneapolis proper.

Toledo, by comparison, is a dream world. I didn't believe my eyes when I looked out the window and see narrow, stone-paved streets and angled, tiled roofs. The road we were on wound up one side of a steep river canyon, at the top of which perched the walled section of Toledo.

Just outside the wall, the bus stopped. We unloaded our bags into a small truck and walked on foot through blind, incredibly narrow alleys to our new home. The truck met us at the door, and we piled into the dorm, a renovated 16th century convent. [The San Juan de la Penetencia]

I am rooming with Christy and Jamie, and we are now killing the hour before lunch by unpacking, stretching, and relaxing. The view from the window is amazing.

Lunch was greasy and heavy and utterly divine. Little did I know that I was drinking tap water with it. Time will tell how I react.

After lunch, we toured with the other Melissa, who is part of our class, but has been here for several months already. We walked the streets more or less aimlessly. Even I lost my sense of direction after a few turns. Now I know what Ted-land is like.

The city is dense and close and hot. The streets are less than eight feet wide, and yet autos somehow get through, and even find parking. Everything is gray or tea-colored, except for the occasional forest of geraniums on a windowsill. The people are pleasant, and I was surprised how little help I needed when I purchased water and postcards. Everything is very cheap (a 5L bottle of water cost 255 pesetas, or around $1.50), the stores are cosmopolitan, and strangers are very helpful. Everything is uphill.

After a long walk in the sun, we crashed and napped [at the Penetencia] until a quick orientation at 7:30 PM. Yuki, our facilities manager of sorts, showed us around the old convent. The interior is quite modern, with the exception of the thick, heavy wooden shutters on the windows. The place also has a tower, from which we can see panoramic views of the city. We are very close to Toledo's famous cathedral, a monstrous Gothic thing that took 260 years to build.

At the moment, I am waiting for the sun to set enough to make the buildings glow. I haven't let my camera out yet. I want to be selective on this trip.

After dinner (at 9:00 PM), I took a shower, an excellent choice of actions. I got into some comfy clothes and lazed about the room for a few minutes until everyone else returned from dinner. We all decided to get a taste of the famous night life. I tossed on a dress, and away we went.

Melissa led the group to this little bar/nightclub. We all grabbed drinks at the bar first thing -- so much for me swearing off alcohol. Jennifer guided the bartender in making something out of Bailey's, Frangelico, and vodka, which was smashing. I got one, too.

As midnight neared, the bar became more of a dance club, crowding full of people. Jennifer convinced me to dance, and even taught me how to marimba.

We all chatted for a long while, until 1:30 AM, when Jennifer and I decided we should try to find our way back to our dorm.

Since Melissa had led the way before, we were unsure most of the time we were walking of where we were. Through several minutes of ambling, we found the cathedral.

The Toledo cathedral at night is an amazing thing. Once you are away from the dance places, the city is perfectly silent. No cars. No people. Nothing moving at all. It feels as if you have walked onto a film set. It is unreal. The streets are well-lit and very safe (so we have heard), so we wandered more and marvelled at this incredible place.

We soon did find our dorm, much more easily than expected. On our way to the door, we stopped to look at one of the metal plates that are imbedded in all of the Toledo streets. They are slightly larger than a post card, and obviously have some sort of significance, though we don't yet know what.

It's the small discoveries that excite me. Earlier today, closer to the river, I had seen snails clinging to the city walls. I found a profound sense of wonderment at that -- snails on a brick wall. Very much like watching the magpies on the roof outside our room. Or wiping mud off a cast iron plate in the middle of an ancient street in the middle of the night. They are private, sensitive discoveries that mean more to me than that huge cathedral.

Commentary from the year 2006:

That entry marks the first and last time that I ever said that I liked the food at the San Juan de la Penetencia.

All content copyright Melissa S. Kaercher, 2006. All rights reserved.