Leaving Aranjuez started off as a slow process; we actually went in the right direction but got stuck behind a pony and trap trotting through the roadworks and over the cobbled streets. On the outskirts of town, we stocked up on supplies and set off west to Toledo. I got the giggles when Gertie, our Garmin GPS, ordered us to follow the Calle Ander Luckier; an interesting pronunciation for Andalucia. I think she’s mangling the Spanish language more than we are!
After nearly a complete circuit of the city on the hill, we arrived at Camping El Greco at around 12:30pm. At 1:30pm I wandered across to check out the bathroom and found that the loo wouldn’t flush and no water came out of any of the taps. So with hands covered in soap I walked back to reception to enquire as to why we had an absence of aqua. The lady said “Ah yes. It will be on in 15 minutes”. Two and a half hours later there was still no water. “Ah yes”, she said, “it should be back on this evening”. “Are you sure”, I asked. “We hope so” she said in a rather uncertain manner. Aaargh! It’s the most expensive campsite we’ve stayed at so far and yet the swimming pool is empty and there’s no water in the taps or toilets. Hmmm, we crossed our fingers.
I whipped up a pan of Bolognese, froze half of it and we filled our tummies with a big bowl, before walking back up the trimmed tree-lined driveway to the main road. True to form, the 4pm bus arrived on the other side of the road, travelling in what seemed like the wrong direction for the centre of Toledo, so we ran across, paid for our tickets and then proceeded to travel out of town, around some houses and back to the bus stop that we had originally been standing at! Ah well, we got there in the end….
The bus whisked us over the River Tajo and up to the Plaza Zocodover, a pretty central spot to start wandering around from. Two hours later we were really hot and thirsty, so we sat on stools at a barrel table outside the Café Flores for a cold drink and then continued wandering the narrow laneways a bit more. Amazingly some of the streets, despite being incredibly narrow, have cars weaving through them and there are traffic lights, presumably to avoid two cars meeting head on.
By 8pm we were done for and had made a plan for the next day, so we hopped on the bus back to the campsite. Thankfully the water situation was tickety boo when we got back, but it was 32°C inside Eileen, despite leaving all the blinds closed, so the trusty desk fan was pulled out of storage, all windows and doors were flung open and we sat outside for a while where it was still 25°C and waited for the inside and outside temperatures to drop before enjoying a lovely cool shower.
We ate mushrooms on toast for breakfast sitting outside, while we watched flocks of timid sparrows bouncing around us like little animated cartoon characters. I wish I could still bounce like they do. At 10am, the bus stop was a league of nations with German, Dutch and French couples all waiting to head into town, via the house viewing loop. It makes sense in a way as there is no shade on the other side, so why not sit on the bus a little longer…. In the Plaza Zocodover we boarded the tourist train, the Tren Turistico, for a jaunt around the walls and out to a panoramic view back to the city, definitely a fun thing to do and the views are pretty wonderful.
Back in town we weaved our way through to the Iglesia San Ildefonso, a Jesuit church started in 1629, which seemed to be one of only a few churches in town, that doesn’t have an El Greco painting inside. It’s another huge Baroque style interior, but the main reason for going in, was to climb up the two towers for a fabulous view over the city. It wasn’t mentioned in any of the guidebooks, but we spotted the sign when sitting at our barrel the previous day and it was definitely worth it.
We continued our rambling all the way down to the outer walls for a look around two of the major gateways into the city, the Puerta de Bisagra and the Puerta de Alfonso VI, both a real jumble of architectural periods, bit Moorish, bit Mediaeval, bit Baroque, but both quite impressive. Lunch was calling and we were now at the base of the city and the restaurant that we fancied, was back at the top, but no worries, mate; there’s an enormous escalator that cuts out a lot of climbing on the north west side of the city. I think it could be the first time I’ve ever been on an outdoor escalator.
There was an expensive restaurant in town selling ecological caviar, Iberic pig mask and even an almond mojo, whatever that is, but there was a Chinese restaurant nearby and craving something different, but not weird, for lunch, we shuffled in to find that only one table of about thirty was actually occupied. It was hard to make a decision as to where to sit. The food wasn’t brilliant, but at least it was a change and when the other table finished and left, we felt rather outnumbered by the staff, but I think they were pleased to see us. Back out on the pavement, the temperature was back up in the thirties and we felt we had seen all we needed in Toledo, so we meandered back to the bus stop and caught the 3pm back to Eileen. Both of us fell asleep in our chairs outside and only woke up when a puff of a breeze blew some dust over us. I think we really could get into the Spanish siesta habit.
