Holy Toledo!

Behold! Toledo Cathedral in all its splendor.
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My third morning in Madrid began a lot like my second morning there... looking for a way out.

Few backpackers have folgers aroma, best-part-of-waking-up, morning experiences in hostels.  Thus, the a.m. tends to be the best time to jump on the internet and settle your travel plans.  So, as I enjoyed my double shot of OJ, I popped on the net and booked a place in Barcelona for the following night and decided to spend the afternoon in Toledo, which is about 45 minutes southwest of Madrid by bus.

Half an hour later, I was frantically bathing... that could possibly conjure up the wrong image...

I had to convince an American couple that it was okay for us to go outside the bell tower onto the open-air causeway in order to get them to take this shot of me overlooking the city.
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Arriving in Toledo, I climbed the stone wall-lined hill rising from the River Tagus and entered the fortified historic city centre from its summit.  Without a game plan, I began navigating the tight curves of the cobblestone streets.  For a city that thrives on tourism, it's amazing that you can find yourself alone on any number of side streets radiating from the city's historic sites.

After a pricey lunch, which is seemingly unavoidable in Toledo, I climbed to the top of the twin towers of Iglesia de los Jesuitas.  The church interior has a modern beauty to it, but the true purpose for visiting lies in the magnificent view afforded visitors perched between the two bell towers on an open-air causeway overlooking the Cathedral and Alcazar.

Don't judge a book by it's cover. The Toledo Cathedral may not rival other Spanish cathedrals in height or size, but its grandiose interior places it at the forefront in beauty.
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Memorizing the street layout from my bird's eye view, ...and by consulting my pocket map, I found my way to the Cathedral.  It was my fourth cathedral in four days, but the 13th century landmark failed to disappoint.  The High Altar Reredos (not pronounced "ree ree doos") emanated a gilded beauty.  Opposite the altar, the Choir's intricate wood carvings muted the ostentatiousness of the altar, yet kept me in sheer awe.  Not to be outdone, the Transparente, a Baroque altarpiece spanning the entire height of the Cathedral, stands behind the High Altar and forced me to endure prolonged neck strain as my jaw dropped and my eyes struggled to make out the sculpted faces receding heavenward.  Lastly, I peeked inside the Sacristy, which houses 4 rooms of paintings dominated by a collection of El Greco's.

Mikey and the Belfry... "So, I say to the old man, they superimposed it. Then I see the old man wander away saying, 'What is superimpose?' What a moron!!!"
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At this stage of the day, a 4 room museum was a blessing, and it exempted me from needing to track down any other El Greco paintings hidden in the city.  And since that was my third church of the afternoon (if you count the Visigoth museum of St. Roman, which incidently was not as cool as it sounds), I had met my daily ecclesiastical quota and was permitted to return to Madrid.

Exhausted from a day's worth of medieval exploration, I spent the evening chatting with other travellers in the hostel's bar area until I decided I'd need at least 4 hours of sleep to wake up at 5am for my flight to Barcelona.  Unfortunately, I forgot to factor in that I was sleeping in a hostel with 5 roommates, only 2 of whom knew how to use their room key.  Ninety degree heat and 5 minutes of door lock rattling twice an hour worked out to about 3 half hour naps, and a 2 hour power nap before waking up to my alarm's belting tone.

Another shot of the Toledo skyline from a top la Catedral de los Jesuitas.
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Half delirious, I made the mistake of closing my eyes without the support net of a snooze button.  Half an hour later, I was frantically bathing... that could possibly conjure up the wrong image... and ready to throw on my pack and sprint to the cab stand.

My flight took off at 7:10am, so as I flagged down a taxi at 6am, I wasn't all to confident in my boarding prospects.  But to my amazement, we weaved through traffic in 20 minutes... apparently there's not much of a rush hour in Madrid, as few people actually work in August... and I found the Air Europa check-in counter with 40 minutes to spare.  As it turns out, although most of the airport's other counters were empty, the shortest queue for Air Europa's check-in stretched 30 people deep.

At first, this seemed like terrible news, but then I realized that my line and the identical one next to it were exclusively for travellers on my flight.  The plane can't very well take off if no one is on it.  This calmed my nerves, and I ceased thinking of ways to use my limited Spanish vocabulary to excuse myself for cutting people off in line.  (Note: In Italy, they don't verbalize these excuses, but merely speak gibberish and flail their arms up and down... Come to think of it, maybe that gibberish is in fact Italian...)  So, when they opened an additional line for Final Boarding, I was right at the beginning of the queue and able to toss my cumbersome load on the conveyor belt... once again, possibly an odd image... and speed walk through the airport to my gate.

Somehow the Mojo McChachi method of travel procrastination worked again, and I made the flight without incident.