Right, first things first: Toledo was phenomenal! I’d recommend it to anybody. It was one of the most beautiful and unusual cities I’ve ever had the pleasure to visit. One thing I would say, however, is that you’ll need a map! We were lucky enough to have an expert among us in the form of Jaclyn, who spent 3 months in Toledo last year as part of a study abroad programme, and was therefore delighted to take on the role of tour guide. Which was just as well; the ‘streets’ are a labyrinth of narrow, winding, cobbled alleyways barely wide enough to allow a car to pass through (although, believe you me, cars do use these streets – and when they do, be sure to plaster yourself against the wall and suck your stomach in if you value your life). They have no logical order and you could quite easily wander around for hours blissfully ignorant of where on earth you were.
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| A typical street in Toledo (this is actually one of the wider ones!) |
Not, of course, that this would be a bad thing – it’s the kind of place that you don’t mind getting lost in. Without wishing to sound overly corny, it has a medieval, almost fairytale feel to it, as well as having a fascinating history. It actually used to be the capital city of Spain until the 8th Century, and is probably most famous for its period during the Golden Age – known as ‘La Convivencia’ – when Christians, Jews and Muslims all lived together in harmony in the city. Our personal fountain of knowledge, Jaclyn, told us the streets were built in such a haphazard way on purpose, to confuse enemies. Even their narrowness was contrived: the idea was that the streets would be narrow enough for opposite neighbours to move between each other’s houses via a plank laid between upstairs windows if they needed to hide.
These days, Arabic and Jewish influences can still be seen all over the city in the form of the architecture, which I think is something that makes it quite unique in Spain. Something about the layout of the city reminds me slightly of Venice, but it lacks that glitzy, polished feel that Venice has. This is no criticism, though; on the contrary, it’s the rough diamond feel that gives it its appeal.
When we first arrived at our rather basic 2* hotel (with its rooms fetchingly decorated in green and brown hues – now that’s what I call innovative interior design!), I knew straight away it was going to be a weekend to remember. It was lovely to have all 6 of us together again, and some chill-out time with the girls was just what I needed.
On Friday night, we sat around in the hotel room drinking cheap wine (from a carton, no less) and catching up on each other’s news, before heading out to some bars with Jaclyn’s friend José. After some frankly vicious chupitos (shots) of Cointreau, we moved on to Círculo, an impressive nightclub which used to be a church! With its high ceilings, towering arches and even an altar, it was a surreal experience to say the least. For the Christians among us, a church-cum-nightclub concept was understandably a tough one to swallow. Personally, however, I found it an inventive way of keeping a beautiful building – which might otherwise have been left to deteriorate into disrepair – alive and appreciated by thousands of people.
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| The whole gang. From left to right: Mary, Natira, Krista, me, Jaclyn,Corinna and José |
By five o’clock in the morning, the wine, vodka and Cointreau I’d consumed in generous quantities were beginning to take their toll, and we decided it was time to call it a night. On our way back to the hotel, we stopped off at a cafe for montados (baguettes – the Spanish version of stopping off for a kebab!), where I got talking in surprisingly fluent Spanish – considering my state – to a man whose girlfriend was from Muswell Hill, just down the road from Crouch End where Hugh lives. We bonded over our bacon and cheese baguettes and this shared knowledge of the area of London where our other halves lived, before saying goodbye. I’ll never see him again, but it’s nice to be reminded just how small the world is every now and again...
On Saturday, we blearily emerged from our green and brown pits at around noon, and crawled out into the harsh light of day to do some sightseeing. We had lunch in a delightful vegetarian restaurant called Madre Tierra, mainly for the benefit of Corinna, the sole vegetarian among a gaggle of carnivores. She was literally like a child in a sweet shop, and so overwhelmed by the wealth of delicious meat-free choices the menu had to offer that we were more than happy to share in her excitement. The food was excellent, and very imaginative if Jaclyn’s goat’s cheese ice-cream was anything to go by. We all tried a bit and agreed it was one of the strangest things we’d ever tasted (though still surprisingly pleasant): sweet and cold like ordinary ice-cream, but with the unmistakable flavour of goat’s cheese laced through it, and accompanied by a salad dressed with balsamic vinegar. If you’re ever in Toledo, go and experience it for yourself!
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| A picture-postcard view from the San Martin bridge of the River Tagus |
On Saturday night, our energy somewhat sapped from the night before, we just went out for a few drinks before going our separate ways (Jaclyn, Corinna and Mary stayed out while the rest of us decided bed was the only thing for it and went back to the hotel).
Sunday was a nice, relaxed day. Mary and Krista caught an earlier train back to Villarobledo, but the rest of us went to visit Jaclyn’s ex-host family, a lovely couple in their sixties whose children have grown up and moved away from home. They regularly take on English-speaking students who come to Spain for a period during their degree; Jaclyn was one in a long line of these, and they have another American boy living with them now! They have a beautiful four-storey house in Toledo’s old town, which dates back to the 13th century and has all sorts of period features (there I go with my estate agent jargon) and a roof terrace affording breathtaking views of the city, although unfortunately, the weather was so filthy that day that we couldn’t enjoy the views. We sipped on chilled red wine (I can hear the gasps of all you wine-experts, but I can assure you it’s quite the norm to drink red wine cold here) and chatted in Spanish. They asked us to stay for lunch, which was a home-cooked feast of ribs in a tasty stew of vegetables and potatoes and the best chicken wings I’ve ever had (cooked in a tangy homemade marinade, of course), before we began our journey back to Cuenca.
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| One of my favourite shots... I think it captures Toledo's magic (even if I do say so myself)! |
The week that followed was fairly low-key and laid-back, for which I was grateful after such a busy weekend. I didn’t need to go to a few of my classes, as they were having exams, and for the rest I didn’t bother planning anything either. The teachers didn’t seem to mind, which was a relief, and we just improvised or worked out of text books. Next week, however, I plan to be back to my lesson-planning self, and am thinking of teaching my classes about English slang, something which I hope they’ll be able to relate to and engage with as teenagers.
On Tuesday, I went out for drinks with some of the teachers again, and it was that evening that the title of my blog was born. One of them told me I’d looked bored in the staffroom earlier, so I explained that I wasn’t bored, just a little overwhelmed (well it’s fair enough, really isn’t it? I’m just one little English student who sticks out like a sore thumb among a whole pack of noisy, Spanish teachers all of whom are older than me). To this, they told me not to worry and said I was ‘un buen fichaje’. Ana explained it was a common expression in Spanish, and assured me it was a huge compliment. ‘Fichaje’ is a football term and literally means a ‘sign-up’, so if you’re a ‘buen fichaje’ it means you’re a welcome addition to the team, or someone who’s doing their job very well. Well, that’s a relief...
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| The gorgeous Toledan sunset... |
Speaking of Spanish expressions, I must share a favourite of mine with you. I use it to describe our malodorous flatmate Victor (aka Shrek), who unfortunately continues to get more disagreeable as time goes on. I am still convinced he has special needs (I’m not just being mean – I’ve worked with special needs children so I think I’m at least slightly qualified to spot the behavioural signs in adults too), which is where the phrase: ‘le falta un verano’ comes in. Literally translated, it means ‘he’s missing a summer’, and it’s used to mean that someone isn’t quite all there. In English, I suppose the most similar phrase we have is ‘he’s a few cards short of a full deck’. For some reason, ‘le falta un verano’ tickles me enormously, and I now try to slip it into conversation wherever I can (without being too offensive, of course).
Last night, we went to the flat of a teacher at Corinna’s school, for wine and tapas. Afterwards, Jaclyn, Natira and I moved on to our favourite spot, El Quinto Pecado, to meet up with Isabel and Mike, the organisers of the English-speaking dinner that I mentioned in my last blog, which will be taking place next Friday. They’re both very colourful, larger-than-life people, and ever so slightly odd with it if I’m honest. However, variety is the spice of life as they say! Mike is an outspoken Australian whose parents were Spanish immigrants. He lived in Australia till he was 14, before they were able to move back to Spain, so he’s native in both English and Spanish. Isabel is a fun-loving Spanish lady, who despite being about 40 and married with a six-year-old son, loves nothing more than to party. She does belly dancing, and last night she spent ages begging me to go to a salsa club with her, assuring me that the men there were gorgeous (er, right). Having not had much sleep the night before, though, I wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed, so I made my excuses and left, despite her protests.
Tomorrow morning, I’m off to Valencia for the weekend! Hugh is flying directly to Valencia this time but we only have two days to explore the city, so I hope his flight doesn’t get delayed again. Valencia is Spain’s paella capital, so I’m very excited to sample its culinary delights. I’ve also been told to try Agua de Valencia, the city’s trademark drink made from champagne and fresh Valencian orange juice. My initial reaction was that it sounds just like Buck’s Fizz (which isn’t really what I’d call glamorous or exciting), but I’ll give it a chance. Maybe those Valencian oranges are what make it stand out from the crowd...
¡Hasta luego!
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