Toledo

Toledo by morning

~ mjparman ~ Leave a comment

There it was.
The Hapsburg double-headed eagle.

I have spent most of my life enraptured in the opulence and tragedy of the story of Marie Antoinette, and as I got older and my reading options expanded I started digging through the story of her family– the Hapsburg emperors.

The Hapsburg family was so large and powerful, there ended up being two ruling branches of it- the Spanish and the Austrian.

Toledo was my first adventure outside of Madrid with my study abroad program, ISA. There was the seal of the Hapsburgs, the double headed eagle, staring back at me from everywhere.

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The city had been the royal seat and the Spanish capital under the Hapsburg dynasty, and their seal is everywhere– now the city seal, the double headed eagle regally marks where you find yourself now.

I was awed, standing ahead of my group, having unknowingly come along to a place full of a history so dear to me.

Then there was the cathedral, San Juan de los Reyes.

I was enthralled with the patio, full of citrus trees, the columns and walls carved incredibly: unicorns, dragons, centaurs hidden amongst the stone vines.

I could have stayed in that passage way for hours, just finding all the little quirky carvings. I hope to someday be able to do just that.
This was the trip where my character introduction line (like Superman’s “Its a bird, its a plane!”) was begun: “¡Mirandita, venga!”

I lulled to the back of the group. I kept quiet. I soaked in the detail, lingering over art and architecture- running my fingers over mythical figures that had been carved before even the Spanish set foot in Texas- until the last member of my group exited the room, then scurried after.

That is the overarching feeling I have in/about Spain: I just want to stop and watch. I am not a quiet person, but when my attention has been caught, oh lord, let me watch.

 

Good, good Toledo.

 

Wide Open Spaces

~ mjparman ~ Leave a comment

I grew up in a small town in the Panhandle of Texas.
I am not sentimental about the little dirt smear that is the town I was raised in, and I fantasize about a day where nothing is left that ties me to it.
That day will probably never come, but its nice to think about.
However, I do have very tender, dear feelings for the Flatlands of the Great Plains in Texas.
Driving for hours, being able to see everything in every direction for miles, watching storms roll in all afternoon before it actually gets to you.
When I got to Madrid, I had a weird need for open land the first month I was there.
I didn’t understand why I missed pasture land so much, as I sure didn’t miss small town life.
I felt more at home within 72 hours of being in Madrid than I ever had anywhere else in my entire life– that in itself was a little terrifying, knowing my time had an expiration date– and me missing open views felt misplaced. The buildings everywhere and the limited green space I’d encountered early on were not an issue by me, but something in my subconscious took issue.
A realization swept over me after about a week and a half: I had never gone longer than 3 days in my entire life without seeing a meadow, all uninterrupted view for at least a few miles.
Even in my time spent in Houston, its only a 30 minute drive in light traffic before you can get to pastures from city center
if you’re driving west, and I lived in a Western suburb.

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And then on the 10th day I was in Spain, I was taken on a little trip to nearby Toledo (a highly recommended trip) and there they were.
Open fields.
This is a terrible picture, but it was a great feeling.
Just seeing for so far felt so free and gooooood.

I didn’t miss open fields again, but the next time I saw them in April on the way to Grenada, I loved them just the same.
I guess this is to say, you may end up homesick for random, odd, surprising things, but that’s okay. You don’t have to understand it.
Just find your uninterrupted view, whatever it may be, and let it comfort you.