Avila: The City of Saints And Stones

We had a 2.5 hour walking tour of Avila set up at 10:30 am with our guide from Tours by Locals, another fellow named Javier.  I did check, there is no requirement that a guide in Spain has to be named Javier, so apparently it is just coincidental.

With some time to kill before our tour, we walked around several blocks around the hotel.  I'm not going to write a lot, but let the pictures/caption tell the story.

I like this fountain so much, that's two

different angles.  Which is better,

the photo with the mountains or 

the city walls in the background?

A view of the city walls.

Well, this time the blog program has jumbled the order of the photos, so this is not in order of our tour.  Javier was a solid tour guide, but he lacked the personality of our Javi guide in Toledo.  Javier in Avila was not nearly as friendly/personable, he was there to do his job but that's about it.

That noted, the tour was great.  Javier took us into the courtyards of multiple palaces that we would not have known to go into, talking about the history and design elements of the different family mansions.  Apparently Avila was a tough city, with streets that certain families had to avoid or violence would occur.  The section of the city within the walls is not that big, so the opportunity for violence was significant.

Then we went past an old synagogue, and a Romanesque church with interesting design features.  Our next major stop was the Convent of St. Teresa.  It was built in the 17th century on the spot where the saint was born.  She was famous for her visions, and was a bit of a mystic.  Not ever having been Catholic myself, I don't fully understand the whole "saints" thing, but the convent is definitely a shrine to her.  There are numerous statues in Avila of her, and as we've been traveling through the region, other towns have statues of her as well.

The weirdest thing about the church is the room of relics, which includes one of her fingers, which is a relic you never realized you needed to see until you saw it, and even then you aren't sure you needed to see it!

Apparently General Franco would occasionally sleep with the finger at his bedside.  I googled it, and found numerous different accounts.  One said it was on his pillow as he lay dying, another claimed it was in his bedroom every night, whilst the version that seems the most real to me is he had it in his bedroom on occasional nights.  Google it if you want, it's a rabbit hole you don't know you will want to go down.

Javier took us outside the city walls to an overlook with fantastic views of the mountains across the plains.  Finally, we passed by some old churches and went into a museum that included many Celtic stone carvings, featuring boars and cows, still staples of the region's food today.  

Two recent statues of 

city home girl, Saint Teresa

A Celtic boar.  Circa two thousand years old.

Mountains from a town overlook.

Not sure what the lion is

licking, but here you go. . .

The church built around

Saint Teresa's birthplace.

A ceiling in her birthplace.

The Saint herself.

A former synagogue in the Jewish

Quarter, until they were forced

out in the Spanish Inquisition.

The symbol of the Camino, one route of

 which comes up from Sevilla through

Avilla on the way to Santiago de Compostela.

Tiles in a wealthy family's courtyard.

Imagine having carvings like this in

your courtyard? Imagine having

a courtyard!

An eagle with a lion on its' chest.

What more could you ask for?

The two-tone archivolt

surrounding the door

to this church is sandstone

on top and marble down

lower.

A wealthy family's courtyard.

A stone Celtic bull from long ago.

You'll be seeing lots of pictures 

of Avila's city walls.

Avila Means "I Love You, Except For The Snotty Hotel Clerk Who Was A Total Jerk To Us"

I'll get to the hotel clerk jerk in a few paragraphs.  Don't let my aggravation with one guy give you the wrong impression about how we felt about Avila.  It's an incredible setting for a city.  We absolutely loved it, with, if you haven't figured out yet, one exception.

The city was on the front lines of the battle between Muslims and Christians, changing hands several times.  Known as "The City of Saints and Stones," Avila's turbulent past has settled into a sleepy, not overly touristy (or "touristic" as the Spanish would say).  It's definitely not the most youthful or vibrant town (that's next, when we get to Salamanca), but if you like a walkable stone city, and you like walking on city walls that are nearly 1,000 years old, Avila is for you.

One Spanish writer, famed for penning El Alma Castellana (The Castilian Soul) called it "perhaps the most 16th century town in Spain."  If you want to wake up the echoes, Avila has an alarm clock ready to ring for you.

(Editor's Note: Great analogy.  Where did you steal it?  Writer: Hey, I came up with it on my own!)

Now, let's talk about our "friend" the Hotel Clerk Jerk.  (That's now his official name, as I had it changed in the official records.  To save time, and keystrokes, I will refer to him as HCJ from here out.)  

Anyhow, we had a nice drive from El Escorial to Avila, with mountains, plains, farms, cows, and plenty of open, winding road.  But, to get to our hotel, we had to negotiate through one of nine city gates and through tiny little streets.  We checked in, and got HCJ because he spoke English.  At first we thought him nice, but he showed us multiple times that first impressions aren't always right.  First, he gave me non-specific directions to the parking garage outside city walls.  That wasn't a huge deal, but he definitely should have been clearer.

I eventually found the garage, after driving down some narrow walls, through another narrow gate, and then around the outside of the walls.  It was all good, but it was weird -- there was no ticket for the paid parking lot (they filmed your license plate coming in, and then you entered the plate number when leaving).  

I walked back through another gate in the city walls -- I was feeling better, having passed through three different gates in less than a half hour.  I wound my way past a beautiful huge fountain, through narrow streets, happy with the city already.  The hotel was located across the plaza from the Cathedral, so the setting was great.  It was a former palace (the Spanish throw the word "palace" around a lot -- let's go with mansion) of a powerful Avila family, who often feuded with the family catty corner across the plaza.  Both families built across from the cathedral so they could be closer to God.

The problem was that it was 80 degrees in Avila, which, in late April, is pretty unusual.  At 3700 feet up, they aren't used to spring heatwaves.  Carol ask him how to turn on the AC, and HCJ was so dismissive we thought he might actually be French.  "We don't turn on the AC till summer.  This is Avila," he mockingly replied to her.  The website simply says they have AC, which implies, you know, that they have AC.  

The room was 80 degrees so Carol asked for a fan to get air moving as the day cooled down.  HCJ was even more incredulous -- repeating "This is Avila" as though it answered all concerned.  Well, guess what, it wasn't cool out like he seemed to think.  Our room was a hot box.  

The coup de grace for HCJ with us was when I got back from dinner, it had cooled out, so I had a light long sleeve pullover on.  But the room was still 80 degrees.  I asked him another question (not about the heat), to which he offered very little help.  But then he grabbed my pullover and triumphantly said, see, it is cool out!  But just because it was 65 outside and still 80 degrees in the room did mean he was right.  

We had four windows open, but the room didn't cool down till the next morning -- so it was pretty hot.  And, because we had the windows open, we were woken up by all the drunks who passed through the square until 2am, shouting and singing.  

I woke about 3am thinking about how rude and unhelpful he was, so I wrote two scathing reviews focused on him.  One was on Expedia, so the hotel must have seen it right away the next day.  When we got back to the room after our walking tour, there was a nice large platter of fruit (yeah, like we could be bought off with free fruit) and, lo and behold, a modern rotating fan.  You know, the thing HCJ said they didn't have.

Anyhow, the heat wave had broken, the fruit was fresh and delicious.  We loved the location of the hotel, and we never had to deal with HCJ again.  The whole next day I wouldn't make eye contact with him.  Carol reported that he was giving us side eye again.  We were so tired from the night before that the drunk hooting and hollering didn't wake us but once or twice. 

And, as it turns out, we CAN be bought off with free, fresh, and delicious fruit and a thoughtful note.  I'm certain HCJ had nothing to do with any of it -- the free fruit, the fan, or the cooler weather.

(Editor's Note: To be fair Glen, MOST hotel clerks have nothing to do with the weather.  Writer: Yeah, well, I just didn't want HCJ getting credit for anything he didn't deserve.)

Salamanca Turns On The Lights

This short, eleven second video is a delight.  I shot it at 9:42 pm from our apartment balcony overlooking Plaza Mayor in Salamanca.  Turn up the sound to hear crowd buzzing.  I will write more about the apartment and Plaza Mayor in a few days (I'm just two cities behind right now). 

Enjoy, it is quite the scene!

El Escorial: It's A Lot To Take In

I'm not telling you to NOT go to El Escorial, but I'm also not telling you to go there.  

(Editor's note: Is that a blog record three "nots" in the same sentence.  Writer: Not sure.)

El Escorial is huge.  It's austere.  It's brutal.  It could have been amazing, and in some ways it is.  But it also could have been so much more, given the money spent and the size built.

(Editor's note: A little background here might help.  Writer: Let's do this.)

The powerful King Phillip II decided to build a grand structure to the glory of God (and the king's family) after Spain defeated France in a crucial battle in 1557 (I suppose any battle that you are personally in would be a "crucial battle").  The result was El Escorial.

It was planned as a Catholic monastery, a school, a mausoleum for dead royals, and a palace to escape Madrid's heat and politics.  It is 30 miles northwest of Madrid, so it attracts day trippers.  We did not plan to stay overnight, so we drove up from Toledo and stopped on our way to Avila.

Rick Steves describes it as "a time capsule of Spain's golden age -- and its glorious decline."  As he writes, "you'll see grandiose buildings, colorful frescoes, quiet cloisters, a towering altarpiece, chandeliered rooms, canvases by Titian and El Greco, (and) an ingenious model of the cosmos."  

What it makes up in hulking, massive size, it lacks in typical Spanish charm and beauty.  It was also built to be a testament to Phillip's power, but what it lacks in beauty it makes up for in touring exhaustion.  If this is your first or second Spanish thing to see, you'll be impressed.  And, to be fair, some parts are impressive and even beautiful.  We parked below Parque Felipe II in very convenient public parking, grabbed an early tapas lunch, and then headed to the massive building.

The building, according to Rick Steves' book, "covers eight acres and has 2,600 windows, 1200 doors, more than 100 miles of passes, and 1,600 overwhelmed tourists."  Well, the day we were there it seemed like 1% of the 1,600 tourists, but it could be that the place is so massive it felt the tourists were outnumbered by the grim security guards.  My goal was to look at all 2,600, but I fell just short by, well, I have no idea.

Another thing I didn't like about El Escorial is that photos were not allowed unless you were taking pictures through a window.  I did sneak a few, and was yelled at by a couple different guards.  Surprisingly, Carol did not castigate me for drawing the attention of the guards.  Carol is a bit of a rule follower, and by "a bit of" I mean "quite the", but even she recognized the ridiculousness of the rule.

RANT TIME: I get the "no flash" rule -- I don't need flash to get good pictures.  But in Toledo, Avila, and Salamanca I could take pictures inside no problem.  Why can't you at El Prado, El Escorial, and a few other sights?  I suppose "El" is a dead giveaway that photos wouldn't be allowed?  It's a ridiculous and inconsistent policy.  RANT OVER.

There were certainly areas of El Escorial that I liked, but by the end, it was so much that we virtually sprinted through royal rooms in the palace.

We started in the Courtyard of Kings, which includes six kings of the tribe of Judah high above the courtyard.  You go from there into the pretty library.  There the books are shelved spine first to show off the golden pages.  There are also multiple globes from back in the day, including an armillary sphere which is a moving model of the solar system (the hand crank is not attached).  The sphere was designed by a math professor from Pisa, it was state of the art until a university colleague named Galileo came up with proof that the earth was not the center of our universe.

The library is impressive, even if it feels you will be sent to the principal's office if you get caught sneaking a photo.  I was considering it, and then saw another fellow sneaking some photos with his iPhone, so both Carol and I took some.  In comparison with other great library's, it isn't as impressive as the university library in Coimbra, Portugal, nor the Melk Abbey library in Austria, but it's still worth seeing.

From there you go to the Basilica, which features a 328 foot high dome and a 100 foot tall high altar of red marble and green jasper.  The highlight of the altar is the painting of San Lorenzo being roasted alive.  He reportedly told his Roman executioners that "you can turn me over now, I'm done on this side."  On either side of the altar are statues of Charles V with his family, and on the other is son Philip II, builder of El Escorial, using daddy's money.

The cloister isn't what we think of when we think of cloisters -- the contemplative middle is unreachable, but the artwork is pretty special.  Luca Giordano's ceiling fresco, The Glory of the Spanish Monarchy (it never hurts to suck up to your patrons) is up the main staircase.

And then you go back downstairs to Pantheon of the Princes, which are tombs of the nonruling royals, as well as the wedding-cake style Pantheon of Royal Children, those who died before the age of seven (and their first communion).  Then, down a hall and significant stairs, there is the Royal Pantheon, an octagonal room that stacks the bodies of 26 kings and queens.  It's daunting.

But wait, there's more.  Next you funnel through the Habsburg Palace, room after room of royal furniture, paintings, and other impressive stuff.  After that, it's up to the top of the building to see the Hall of Battles, which focused on Spanish military victories.  Younger royals would learn military tactics by studying the paintings.

Finally, you reach the Palace of Bourbons (there is no escaping the route, it just seems never ending).  The Bourbons, as is their wont, changed this wing into a mini Versailles.  The Bourbons took over around 1700 when the French defeated the Hapsburgs, who were quite Hapless by then.  That's when we started all-but-sprinting to get out.  Two hours in the building was more than enough, it would have been another 30-45 minutes if we had taken in the rooms we were blowing through.

The drive from Toledo to El Escorial was more exurban Madrid than I expected, but the drive from El Escorial to Avila was exactly what I expected -- rural, mountainous/hilly, lots of cows, peaceful and pretty.  On to the next town.

There Are Some Photos From El Escorial

Dear reader, you've probably noticed that I take a LOT of photos.  It's kind of my thing.  I don't post most of them, saving many for the Shutterfly books I do, but I do post quite a few.  There's actually a goodly number of photos from El Escorial below, but I used most of the ones I took, because of the nonsensical "no photos" policy.

The Library, taken

surreptitiously by Carol.

The Courtyard of the Kings. . .

they are up above/behind us.

El Escorial.

The Courtyard of the Kings;

not exactly packed with tourists.

The six kings of Judah.

My surreptitious pic of the library.

One of many, many paintings.

The top of the high altar.

A royal grave, also an illegal picture.

A legal picture,

Pretty cool shot of the mountains

not far from El Escorial.

Pretty gardens, but they need

some colorful flowers.

Mirador Del Valle, Then Back On The Road Again

Everyone raves about the Mirador Del Valle, which means "viewpoint of the valley."  Both Rick Steves and Javi highly recommended it.  We had planned to cab there after La Luz, but we were hot, tired, and worn out.  Being the Iron Tourist is harder at age mumble, mumble is harder than being the Iron Tourist even just a few years ago.

(Don't worry blog fans, I may have lost a little zip on my fastball, but I'm a crafty veteran, our travels will still be interesting to read about!).

So, instead we wisely decided to pick up the rental car the next morning, drive to the Mirador Del Valle, and then head on to our next location(s).  It was a short drive from the car rental place, which was located outside of the old city, so the viewpoint was easy to get to. and spectacular.  I will let some photos tell the story:

A great view of Toledo from the overlook.

The Cathedral from across the river.

Another view.

Pretty flowers grow at the overlook.

Overlook selfie (obviously)

Pretty panorama photo.  NOT taken by me.

Javi texted it to me so I could show a 

cabbie if need be.  Not sure if taken by

Javi or someone else.  Darn 

impressive if he took it!

The Rest Of The Toledo Tourist Bracelet Stops

After bidding a fond farewell to Javi, and having lunch, we headed to three of the remaining four stops on the Tourist Bracelet.  Just down the street from our apartment is the Iglesia de Salvador.  

It's a relatively non-descript church dating from around 1041 (or earlier), with remains from Visigoth worship and even a 2nd Century Roman church have been found.  The church is only of modest interest, but we walked past it many times so I figured we should go in.  

We climbed the tower but essentially had no view.  The highlight of the tower is that Carol saw a baby bird in a nest built into a very small opening.  Anyhow, I took some pictures in the church but nothing worth posting, so. . .we'll just move on to the next stop.

Climbing the tower was a mistake, as we should have saved the exertion for the next stop, the Church of San Ildefonso.  Apparently climbing the 131 step tower affords wonderful views of Toledo (unlike the previous tower, he writes bitterly).  Between the heat, the hills, Carol not feeling 100% as Tinto de Verano at lunch was an iffy choice in the heat, and climbing a relatively short tower but getting no payoff, we choose not to climb the tower at San Ildefonso.  We chose poorly.

In which we were admonished by a Crusader.

Despite that blown call by me, the rest of the church was interesting.  Started in 1629, this Jesuit Baroque church took over 100 years to build.  Ironically, the Jesuit church was finished just two years before they were expelled from Spain by the King.  They did not recover the church until last century.

That said, I did take photos and I will let the pictures tell the story:

There are angels among us. . .

The Holy Spirit

We tried walking to the Puerta del Sol, a Moorish gate into the city that was built, well, when the Moors controlled Toledo (this whole history thing isn't that hard, except when it is).  But GPS led us to a dead end, where we could see a chunk of the Muslim gate (much of it was obscured), but actually getting there was impossible from where we were.  Between the heat and the hills, we weren't going to try another way.  As a friend once told, "You've got to know when to hold 'em, know when fold 'em, know when to walk away, and know when to run."

(Editor's Note: You knew Kenny Rogers?  Writer: Oh, you know the song too?  Shoot, thought I could sneak one by you. Editor: You'll do anything for a cheap laugh.)

So instead we traipsed back up the hill, then cut over, and back down the same hill, different road to the small but captivating Mezquita del Cristo de la Luz.  For reasons of brevity, I will call "la Luz."

This small church started life as a mosque, built in the year 999 (for those bad at math, that means it is 1,024 years old.  For those good at math, it's the same age as last sentence).  It was built for those entering or leaving the city, as it was right by the (wait for it!). . .Puerta del Sol!  Yup, the unattainable gate was just around the corner from La Luz!

Anyhow, the place is pretty small, but it has several memorable aspects to it, including multiple beautiful keyhole arches in the Moorish style, some recycled Visigoth capitals, ribbed vaults, a beautiful garden/patio, and the piece de resistance, Caliphate-style horseshoe arches with two color brick layers that look much like the famed arches of La Mezquita in Cordoba. 

The garden/patio has beautiful flowers, sculpture, and is centered around a simple, yet mesmerizing fountain.  There is a viewpoint that gives a better view of Puerta del Sol.  After we finished, I walked down the hill a bit more, through an unknown gate (well, the gate is known, but I just don't know the name and I'm NOT going to work to find it), for unobstructed views of the Puerta del Sol.  As we had go through any number of gates already, I didn't bother to pass through it, as it would have added to the amount of hill I would need to climb.

Keyhole arches inside.

Many beautiful flowers outside.

A view of some of the patio/gardens.

Bisagra Gate, also somewhat obscured,

but visible from La Luz.

This monastery, outside of the city

walls, was built in the 1500s.

The back of La Luz.

These red/white arches were built to

reflect La Mezquita in Cordoba.

Oh, did I mention recent

excavations unearthed an

ancient Roman road?

Puerta del Sol

(Gate of the sun)

One last shot of the Cathedral

tower because, well, why not?