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The fascist dictator General Franco left one admirable legacy to Spain: the cheap three-course lunch. Come midday and practically every eating establishment in the country advertises their menu del dia, a filing lunch with wine on the side.

There were many different restaurants competing for our attention when we left Toledo's cathedral and we chose one that offered a bit of shade on a pedestrian street. This provided plenty of people-watching opportunities while we enjoyed our long lunch.

To start we had a green salad with plenty of sweet sun-ripened tomatoes and bread on the side.

For the main course we had a thick pork stew with garden peas, spiced with smoked paprika.

Dessert was only a pot of ice cream and the white wine accompanying the meal was a bit astringent, but for €11 a head it was a bargain.

Around the corner we found the church of Santo Tome which is famous for its massive painting by El Greco showing the Count of Orgaz’s funeral. It’s one of his more accessible and cohesive works.

Certainly his largest!

Again, no photos were allowed so I’ve had to find these images elsewhere.

The painting dominates the church, covering the first wall you see as soon as you enter. The rest of the small church is surprisingly plain, but with a few interesting details like a modest painted altar.

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For someone who spends most Sunday mornings making pancakes and brewing decaff coffee, on my travels I always make a point to have a look inside the local church. They have free wine!

I’ve ticked off quite a few German doms, Italian duomos and English minsters, but I can report that Toledo’s cathedral ranks as the most extravagant place of worship that I have seen to date. Every inch of the interior has been decorated, carved, gilded or embellished over the centuries.

It felt like a million pair of eyes looked down on us sinners: cherubs jostled with saints, while any gaps between angels were filled with bodiless faces. A fair few thousand earthbound eyes stared back up at the heavenly host. I’ve no idea what the floor is like, it was impossible to see for all the hundreds of other tourists milling about!

Regular announcements in several languages insisted ‘silence – no photos’ so the images for this entry are ones I’ve had to crib from elsewhere.

Several coachloads of tourists of were being marched around and the herds caused jams in the choir stalls, so it was hard to appreciate the wooden carvings here.

Most panels were dedicated to the Christians laying siege to the Moors occupying the city, but there were also the more imaginative flights of fancy that you often find in this part of a church.

The altar, both front...

...and back,

was an astonishing exercise in over the top glamour in the name of God. It was hard to tell if there was a Biblical message to be gleaned from the cavalcade of bejewelled bishops and other men wrapped in satin.

The sacristy houses a Prado in miniature with paintings by El Greco, Bassano, Van Dyck, Goya and Ribera. Most canvasses though were dull portraits of church leaders and interchangeable idealised saints.

Caravaggio’s St John the Baptist (one of several versions he painted) was pick of the bunch, dramatic and effective, but like the rest in need of a clean.

I suppose you can expect a bit of dust and grime in a 785-year-old building. Work on the present structure first began in 1227 atop the foundations of a 6thC church which had been used by the Moors as a mosque.

According to the brochure, ticket sales help maintain the building as well as the ‘charitable goals of the church.’ Standing in the Treasury and looking agog at the gold reliquaries...

...illuminated manuscripts and jewel-encrusted goblets all locked up behind glass, the thought occurred that perhaps the bishops could sell off a couple trinkets to tend to the sick, house the poor and feed the hungry.

Speaking of hungry, let’s go find somewhere to eat!

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As well as all the tasty food, good beer and free museums that Madrid can offer, the city is surrounded by plenty of diverting places that would make an ideal daytrip. Whether you want beautiful mountain scenery, lavish palaces or historic old towns you can be sure to find a worthwhile excursion.

The only problem we had leaving Madrid was buying advance train tickets, at least for the high-speed AVE trains which are the only practical way of having adequate time in a place like Segovia. After the bum start to that particular outing, we set aside an afternoon to buy our tickets for Toledo. We called in at Atocha station, made our way to the ticket office and took our ticket to reserve a place in the queue. There were 60 people ahead of us. Thankfully Atocha is a splendid station, with a rain forest on the concourse, plenty of shops and ample seating.

One hour and 15 minutes later we were called to the ticket counter. One minute and €36 later we had two tickets to Toledo for later in the week. At the appointed hour, we returned to Atocha, went through the airport-style security check-in and found our seats. The 40-mile journey south was not particularly interesting, as the landscape is flat and barren and largely covered by suburban Madrid. After only about 20 minutes we rounded a corner and caught site of Toledo, which sits on a sheer bluff in a river bend.

This defensive site has been inhabited for thousands of years, attracting the Romans, the Moors and everyone else in between. Because of the topography, the train cannot approach very close and the station is well outside the city, below its walls. The old station provides a lovely welcome to the city. It's a gorgeous Moorish fantasy of tiles, stained glass, Arabic arches and polished woodwork that hints at wait awaits in the city above.

A fleet of tour coaches waited outside the train station's doors, with a crew of touts ready to take the trainload of tourists in tow. We spotted a small sign pointing to a bus stop on the main road out front and within a couple minutes we had flagged the next bus and were on the way.

The views along the way were gorgeous as we crossed the river and followed the city walls, catching the occasional glimpse of a clocktower or church. We were deposited outside the fortress (alcazar) which has been rebuilt after being obliterated during the Spanish Civil War and is now an army museum (yawn). The narrow streets did mean it was hard at first to tell where we wer  in relation to anything else, but then we spotted the spire of the cathedral beckoning through a cleft between the tall buildings. 

Click back next time for a trot around the cathedral and other monuments scattered around beautiful Toledo!

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Madrid one more time 12

Cats and food are not an appetising mix. How often have you drank a glass of cheap white wine and thought to yourself: 'how does the cat manage to balance on top of a bottle long enough to fill it?' And we all know about the lost kitten posters you supposedly see near Chinese restaurants. So most people might think again about ordering the lager in a place literally called 'The Cat Beerhouse'!

Don't worry, because Cervecerias Los Gatos is named in honour of the Madrid citizens who frequent it. The Madrileños call themselves 'cats' possibly because they sleep in the afternoon and stay out all night, caterwauling.

Los Gatos came recommended to me as a decent 'pick and point' tapas joint. Yes, I can still remember a bit of Spanish from university and had a phrasebook tucked in my pocket, but sometimes you just want to point at what you want and be eating it as soon as possible, without trying to remember the Spanish for 'is that fried in beef tallow or vegetable oil?'

Sure enough, in about two minutes flat we were feasting on the tapas we'd pointed at (4 for €10) and knocking back some reassuringly ice-cold beers (€2.40 each). Each tapa was a thick slice of chewy bread with a different topping (a cold slab of egg & potato tortilla on one, anchovy on another, crabmeat on the third and then tomato with mozzarella). These came out on a platter with potato crisps piled in between the gaps.

In between bites we absorbed the wacky interior of the place. We were stood at a marble countertop in front of an antique mirror, with an old-fashioned streetlamp stood in the middle of the room behind us.

Above us was a copy of the Sistine Chapel ceiling, albeit one where Adam was holding out a pint of beer towards God and the angels were sat on kegs. In another mural, skeletons were getting sh*t-faced. Behind the bar, what may what once have been reliquaries or other repositories for religious artefacts were now filled with liquor bottles. Very fun and inventive!

It was quiet that time of afternoon, but the server was busy slicing paper-thin pieces of ham off the leg of pork kept at the bar. About half the ham slices went onto small plates to be served later, the rest she was eating. We were full ourselves for the time being, so headed back to the hotel via some gift shops along the way.

A few hours later and we were out on the tiles again after our siesta. As I have mentioned before, there is a fork in the middle of Madrid and of an evening the tourists go down one way while the Madrileños head the other. For a change this evening, we took the tourist trail through the Huerta district, but none of the touts could tempt us in. Before we knew we were back at Los Gatos, which is on the outer fringe of Huerta, past the point where most tourists probably poop out.

This time it was heaving, but a chap greeted us and found us some space at the counter near the server, who was still slicing away at the ham. This time we had only the two tapas (one slice of bread with salmon, the other with goats cheese). The server handed over a slice of ham gratis and we agreed it was delicious (melt-in-your-mouth soft and not at all greasy), so she started assembling a large plate of ham for us. 'That is going to cost at least €5 alone,' Christian said at the time.

The ham came with toasted bread smeared with tomato and some crackers. Needless to say all this bread was filling after awhile, so we asked if we could pay. While waiting for the bill we finished our second (or third?) round of beers. The server put down her carving knife, took our glasses off of us and filled each one up about halfway. She indicated we didn't have to pay for this and commented it was early for us to leave already: Que temprano! It was only midnight, after all and the cats were only starting to come out to play.

With tip, the bill came to €40. Although we were stuffed and had lost count of the beers we'd had, Christian was agog we had spent quite so much. I confirmed that according to the receipt, our big platter of ham alone cost €18. 'Yes, ' I said, 'we just paid £15 for a plate of lunchmeat.'

But it was the best baloney we've ever had! If you want to know where the cool cats hang out, make your way to Calle Jesus 2.