Don Quixote, the knight with the sad countenance

It must have been the three and a half-day uninterrupted reading of the Don Quixote de la Mancha of Cervantes in the original Spanish at the Instituto Cervantes de Manila, celebrating 400 years of the novel’s publication, that made us, my husband Alex and I, very curious about the arid plains of the setting of the story ―Castilla la Mancha. The story too, of a crusty middle-aged village bachelor who did nothing but read about medieval romances and adventures until they became his reality touched us deeply. Even during our elementary days when we learned about his exploits, Don Quixote had somehow become an emblem of the old world long gone ―a man borne by his nag Rocinante, his fidelity to fair Dulcinea from Toboso. Beside him was his ever-loyal squire, Sancho Panza, short and squat, both of them riding out into the horizon, righting the wrongs of the world, even if often only in Don Quixote’s mind. Never mind if he was described as thin, gaunt, and looked doleful. One of my favorite sobriquets for this iconic figure was La Triste Figura, variously translated as the Sad Figure and Woeful Image. This was in the chapter when Don Quixote was beaten up and had lost almost all his teeth, and had a tin bowl for a helmet. Yet his squire pronounced him a knight, the Knight with a Sad Countenance. In the center of Spain

We felt this very same spirit of adventure as we sallied forth into the busy train station of Atocha in Madrid one early morning, getting ida y vuelta (round trip) tickets to Toledo, the capital of the Castilla la Mancha region. Toledo was right at the center of Spain, and if one imagined the whole country to be the flattened hide of a bull (this shape was often used to describe Spain itself: a country identified with bullfighting) one can plot its very center and hit Toledo. The weather was unseasonably cold for late spring, but we felt it was perfect for hiking. From the train station we decided to trek the 1-km uphill road to the city, crossing the wide Tajo River through a small picturesque bridge, the Puente de Alcántara passing by medieval-looking stone arches. The sky started to cloud over when we reached town, and the wind became colder. We decided to walk faster to generate some heat, until we realized we were getting into narrower and narrower streets, the lanes twisting this way and that; dark concrete stairways led to other more unfamiliar ones. Along the way we passed by interesting-looking stone and brick houses with decorative bars in their windows, and many shops selling all forms of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza renderings: figures in iron, tin, wood, and found in paintings, scarves, mugs, hats. Toledo cathedral Before we knew it we suddenly came out of a clearing and found ourselves in the Plaza de Zocodóver, and in front of us was the huge, breathtaking cathedral of Toledo. Built between the 13th and 15th centuries, it had a dome on one side and a spire on the other. We entered the cathedral quietly, awed by the immensity of it all: the beautiful rose windows, the very high arching vaults of the naves, the numerous chapels by the sides. We slowly went forward and saw the two-tiered choir (the area where the choir sat and sang during Masses), the hard-wood arm chairs lining it shiny and worn over the centuries. But we weren’t prepared for the huge Gothic altarpiece of the capilla mayor, as we gasped at its sumptuousness: golden all the way to the ceiling, intricately carved niches with their religious statues, adorned with precious stones and metals, flowers and plants in gold leaf. Indeed, opulent was a modest description for it. We proceeded to the Sacristy which was a repository of several El Greco and Van Dyke paintings, and a row of red cardinal hats hanging high on the wall. Upon close inspection from a distance below, what looked like shelves recessed into the wall were actually tombs of the former cardinals of Toledo. Filing past the hats in the musty room we proceeded to the Treasury where church ornaments were shown, including the huge 500-pound, 10-foot tall gold monstrance (a decorative receptacle that holds the consecrated host during adoration in Catholic rites) that was used during the town’s feasts, especially during the Corpus Christi procession. This monstrance looked like a huge, more-than-life-size gold trophy: filigreed, with so many needle-like gold turrets holding up the different intricate layers. Each capilla at the sides too, were venerated to specific saints, with paintings depicting them in various poses, and moods. A visit to the cloister reminded us of the daily schedules of monks living in monasteries: high arches and long corridors were conducive to contemplation and prayer. Dazed by so much grandeur and a starting crick in our necks for craning our heads up to look at the paintings and some architectural details, we slowly walked out of the cathedral, also eager to look at the details of the various vaulted doors. There were three intricately-carved doors in the Main façade descriptively named Puerta del Perdon, or Door of Forgiveness (where penitents, during the 15th century, passed through to gain indulgences), Puerta del Juicio, or Door of the Last Judgment, and Puerta del Infierno or, Door of Hell. There were other vaulted doors at the other sides of the cathedral, and the more well-known were the Puerta de los Leones, or Door of the Lions, (lion heads were found in the gates) and the Puerta del Reloj or Door of the Clock, a simpler door with a huge clock. Swords and Damascene gold The rain seemed to have become stronger so we quickly ducked into a shop by the side of the cathedral, and found ourselves in a store chockfull of things religious: paintings of saints, rosaries, novenas, images of the Virgin, prayer books, even chalices, priests’ vestments. There were also books on the cathedral, detailed descriptions of how the foundations were laid, who commissioned what particular construction, why the architecture was done just so, a veritable two-century history of its building. Enchanted by the edifice Alex and I bought a cloth-bound Toledo Cathedral coffee table book, a heavy tome that I had to hand-carry when we flew back to Manila. In one corner of the shop I noticed glass cases containing exotic and artistic-looking jewelries including earrings, bracelets, and brooches, all done in a certain manner: black matte background with intricate gold art in entwining curlicues and designs. These were the damasquinados de oro, a distinctive Toledo art form. Damasquinado de oro or damasquino (damascene gold) art was introduced to Toledo so many centuries ago from Damascus, Syria, hence the name, but the Toledans made this beautifully elaborate art their own. It consists of deeply etching images and designs into iron and then filling the depressions with gold flakes. A process of oxidizing the iron turned it dark, making the designs more pronounced against the black background. The designs were endless, and were limited only by one’s imagination. Flowers, birds, plants… they were made into rings, earrings, bangles, even dining sets of platters, plates, cups and saucers, and napkin holders. I finally succumbed to two sets of earrings: one with a flower pattern, and the other a Celtic design. Out into the streets again we noted many shops selling medieval swords. Curiosity aroused, we entered one and learned that Toledo was also well-known for its swords. It was said that the sword smiths (and their forefathers so long ago) in this town, knew the exact proportion of metals to make the finest tempered steel for the perfect sword. This involved the right timing of immersing the red hot metals into water (the liquid filled with secret ingredients only they knew) and then hammering and shaping the steel into swords. Even samurais from Japan came to Toledo, it was said, to have their katanas done. Thus we were able to understand why so many shops around town displayed all kinds of swords, from the simplest to the most elaborate ones, their handles covered in gold and encrusted with semi-precious stones. “Are these for wall decorations?" I naïvely asked one of the lady shop keepers, pointing to a group of large swords. “Oh no!" she answered with alacrity. “These are real swords, and they can be deadly, in the hands of a warrior!" She took one out of its scabbard, and touched the edges almost reverently. “Look how fine and sharp it is!" she said. The sword indeed looked splendid and its mirror-like surface was unblemished. Not only were there swords in the shop but also short knives, some embellished with precious stones, and others, geometric designs. Alcazár fortress We had to peel ourselves away from the sword shops, and walked some more around the cathedral area, until we came face to face with the Alcazár, the old Moorish fortress. By this time we were starting to get foot weary, but enter the Alcazár we did, a bit disappointed because it was dark and comparatively airless after the light-filled cathedral. Toledo had been conquered and ruled by so many people through the centuries, from the Romans, Visigoths, Moors, and the Spanish. Its culture is a mixture of influences, not to mention the sizable Jewish population that had also stayed and flourished. The edifices then, from the cathedral to the alcazár, showed this confluence of varied cultures. It was difficult really to tease out one from the other, as they had all blended into one beautiful and impressive whole, which was Toledan. Our minds, a-whirl from the magnificence of the cathedral, the stark hugeness of the Alcazár, to the damascene shops and medieval swords, hardly registered tiredness until our long-suffering feet were very vocal in their displeasure: aching ankles and swollen toes, even if they were ensconced in trusty Reeboks. We ducked into the Zorba Restaurant for a very late midday repast of bocadillos calientes (hot sandwiches) and into the La Campana Gorda (evidently a nod to the eponymously named 17-ton bell found in the north tower of the cathedral) bar for coffee and beer to rest our feet. After this short break we ventured out again and marveled at the cool, almost chilly temperature, the winding cobblestone streets, the quiet dignified air of the town, as we simply soaked in the medieval atmosphere of Toledo. No longer able to walk the one kilometer to the train station, we took Bus#5 from the Pl. de Zocodóver to the train station, where we warmed ourselves in the gently heated passengers’ waiting room, expectantly looking out for our train back to Madrid. - YA, GMANews.TV