Postcard from Toledo, Spain: A Cathedral fit for a royal capital

When Alfonso VI (1040-1109) of Castile captured Toledo from the Moors in 1085, he made the hilltop city his capital. Although royals moved their seats around Spain and Portugal, the city benefitted from the rule of numerous kings.

Construction of the city’s Gothic Cathedral, dedicated to the Assumption of Mary, was begun in 1227. The main six-story central carved altar, bookended by royal tombs, was added around the year 1500.

Felipe II (1527-1598) stroke a blow signaling the city’s decline in importance when he moved the capital permanently to Madrid in 1561.

Although Toledo’s population is around 80,000, every day thousands of visitors jostle through the crowds filling the narrow streets in the historic part of the city to tour the Cathedral. Fortunately, there is ample room inside to accommodate a crowd. The main nave alone is both longer and wider than an NFL football field.

When we were in the Cathedral, most of the area near the main altar was roped off for temporary seating for an evening organ concert. Disappointing yes, but, holy Toledo, the pipes resounding through that enormous space must have been magnificent.

Postcard from Salamanca, Spain: Cathedrals dominate the city

Construction on Salamanca’s “Old Cathedral,” which ended up combining Romanesque and Gothic styles, began in the 12th century in honor of Santa Maria de la Sed.

But several centuries later, Ferdinand (1452-1516) and Isabella (1451-1504) had much to celebrate – expelling the Moors and opening the doors to the riches of the Americas among them.

A few years after her death, Ferdinand commissioned an even larger “New Cathedral” adjacent to the old. So as not to clash with its older neighbor, Late Gothic style was employed originally; however, after a century or two of construction, it proved impossible to resist adding a Baroque copula or two to top things off.

The siblings stand majestically side by side; both seemingly serviceable for several more centuries ahead.

The sculptural reminder that we all have to die, Memento Mori, is one of the most frightening images I’ve ever seen in church. But, at least it was placed up high in a side chapel…. Maybe if we keep traveling, it will encounter difficulties locating us?

Postcard from Segovia, Spain: Castilian castle commands bluff despite those painful pointy-toed shoes

There was a lot of fighting going on in what we now call Spain, Portugal and the rest of Europe in the old days. Boundaries constantly were changing; kingdoms were proclaimed and reclaimed over and over.

My feet were never meant for pointy-toed shoes, but what were those medieval designers thinking? I mean, Jimmy Choo’s highest spiked heels are so much kinder to women’s feet than the armor those soldiers were forced to endure.

Realize one would want every body part protected during battle, but how could one move without assistance in such absurdly curved and pointed shoes? And, with every finger armored, how could one wield a sword? I guess the more the protection inhibited movement, the more protection one would need?

Fortunately for the rulers ensconced at Alcazar, geography played a role in preventing mobile-impaired soldiers from having to maneuver more than possible.

The castle seems so familiar, so, well, Disney-like. But Alcazar definitely came first, its turrets and spires serving as inspiration for Walt centuries later.

Ruins of an ancient Roman fortress became the base for a Moorish post, which in turn was the foundation for a monumental stone compound, the primary home for Spanish royalty and its parliament.

King Alfonso VIII (1155–1214) began the first permanent construction of Alcazar, with Juan II (1405-1454) adding the major tower during his reign. Felipe II (1527-1598) updated things to keep up with the latest European architectural whims of royals by adding the slate-covered pointy spires.

Things went south from that point. King Felipe II moved the seat of government to Madrid, and the former home of royalty suffered the indignity of serving as a prison for two centuries.

King Carlos III (1716-1788) repurposed it into the Royal Artillery School. But that meant storage of highly explosive materials within the fortress walls, which added to the spectacular fireworks display when a fire broke out in 1862.

Royalty briefly was out in Spain, but, when reestablished (a major oversimplification of history), Alfonso XII (1857-1885) began restoration of this monument to Spain’s past. Although the young monarch died of complications from tuberculosis and dysentery at age 28, Alcazar still reigns over Segovia and the surrounding countryside.