We Who Are About To Get Soaked Salute You!

The Amphitheater of Trier.

Not long after I had moved to Germany, I was sitting in my German class one day and was chatting with the instructor. Like most Germans, she had a perpetual case of Wanderlust (a word, funnily enough, not actually used in modern German). While chatting about our travels and interests, she made an offhand mention to a small city in the very west of Germany called Trier. She told me it had two major claims to fame. First, it's the oldest city in Germany (founded as the Roman city of Treverensis). Second, it's the hometown of Karl Marx. My initial reaction was, "Cathedrals and communists? I gotta get check this place out!" A few days later I found myself on a long day trip to Germany's oldest city.

A typical sight for the
Mosel Valley (Wikimedia).

I took a gamble on the weather and lost miserably: it was a chilly, rainy day. While the weather was dreary, the scenery on the way to Trier was a welcome distraction. From the trains, I could see many lovely green hills, picturesque valleys, and vineyards. Lots and lots of vineyards. Trier, it turns out, is in the heart of the Mosel valley, one of Germany's most famous wine-growing regions.

After a short walk from the main station, I was greeted by one of Trier's most famous and oldest sites: the Porta Nigra. Dating from the second century A.D., the Porta Nigra is part of Trier's UNESCO World Heritage listing, which includes many other sites throughout the 2000 year old city. After snapping a few photos under the safety of my umbrella, I slowly walked through this ancient portal. It was the first time I ever walked through a proper Roman gate. The blackened, battered stones of this proud structure made me feel like a time traveler walking through the ages.

City-facing view of the Porta Nigra.

 Looking through the Porta Nigra.

The Three Magi.

Before checking out the rest of Trier, I popped into a Coffee Fellows for a much needed hot drink. While sipping my coffee and checking my trusty guidebook for places of interest, I spotted a really striking painting on the wall of the cafe. Showing the Three Wise Men, it was one of the coolest depictions I'd ever seen of them. I couldn't quite tell if the painting was a reproduction of an old painting or if it was a modern take on the Bible story. While Trier has a very rich Catholic history (more on this later), it's the city of Cologne that's most closely associated with the Magi. In fact, the majestic Cologne Cathedral is said to contain their remains.

Rather than give a detailed account of everything I saw, I'll just focus on three of my favorite sites. The first was the mighty Aula Palatina, better known as the Constantine Basilica. As the name implies, this structure built was on the orders of the Constantine the Great, Rome's first Christian emperor, in the 300s A.D.

The Constantine Basilica.

The beautifully austere interior
of the Constantine Basilica.

By this time, Trier was already one of the most important Roman cities north of the Alps. As the Western Roman Empire gradually collapsed during the 400s, the Catholic Church increasingly filled the void of power. During the Middle Ages, the rich and powerful diocese of Trier would become one of the most influential members of the Germanic Holy Roman Empire. Aside from it's strategic location and status as an old provincial capital city, Trier's major source of prominence was religious. Pilgrims from all over Europe would visit Trier to catch a glimpse of the alleged Holy Tunic of Jesus, housed at the Trier Cathedral, and to visit the relics of the Apostle Matthias, who was chosen to replace Judas. Trier still draws pilgrims to this day, some of which continue their long trek all the way to northwestern Spain on the Way of St. James. In light of this long and rich Catholic history, I was shocked (and somewhat amused) to discover that the Constantine Basilica is a Protestant church these days. The explanation requires another little history lesson. 

Statues inside the basilica.

The Protestant kingdom of Prussia gained the Catholic Rhineland territories, which included Trier, after the defeat of Napoleon in the early 1800s. In the mid-1800s, on the orders of Prussian King Friedrich Wilhelm IV, the basilica was renovated and restored to its original Roman state. It was at this time that the basilica was converted into the first (and now oldest) Protestant church in Trier. While it might seem like a case of blatant discrimination, Friedrich Wilhelm IV did ease relations with the Catholic Rhinelanders by sponsoring the completion of the Cologne Cathedral, which had been lying uncompleted for centuries.

As for the actual structure of the Constantine Basilica, I loved its cavernous interior. The exposed bricks were another interesting feature of the building. Far from being purposely decorative, the walls were left in this state after being damaged from fires during bombing raids in the Second World War. The simple, basically unadorned atmosphere was a perfect fit for its role as a Protestant church.

A map of Roman Trier. The amphitheater is
to the upper right in the map.

Ground level entrance
to the Amphitheater.

The second of my favorite sites in Trier was the amphitheater, which is tucked away in a residential section of the city next to a vineyard (of course) and some upscale houses. With space for 20,000 spectators, the amphitheater hosted all the events you would expect a Roman amphitheater to host; gladiatoral death matches, public executions, and exotic animal exhibitions. I followed the recommended tour path to get a good view from the top.

The high view of the amphitheater included fall foliage, a peek at a vineyard, and lots of rain.

I thought the most interesting part of the site was what was underneath it. Literally. An intricate series of chambers and pathways run directly beneath the arena. It was here that the gladiators, animals, and condemned persons were corralled before the bloody spectacles would begin. Much of the place was damp and soaked but it was still interesting to see the "guts" of the amphitheater.

The large staging area directly beneath the amphitheater.

The third and admittedly most interesting of my favorite sites in Trier was the Matthias Abbey, which houses the remains of the Apostle Matthias.

View of the rain-drenched Matthias Abbey.

Interior of the nave.

Records show that a monastic community has lived on this site since at least the 400s. In the late 900s, the community became a part of the Benedictine order and has remained a part of it ever since. According to legend, the Roman empress Helena, mother above the above-mentioned Constantine, sent the remains of the Apostle Matthias to Trier in early 300s. Constantine had tasked his mother with finding Christian relics throughout the empire. Her famous pilgrimage to the Holy Land was a huge success and church historians credit her with discovering, among other things, the One True Cross and Nails of the Crucifixion. The previously mentioned Holy Tunic and the Matthias relics in Trier were also discovered by her. Helena's prominence in early Christianity is so important that she's even venerated as St. Helena of Constantinople by the Catholic, Orthodox, and Lutheran traditions. Funnily (or appropriately) enough, she's also revered as the patron saint of new discoveries. If that weren't enough, Helena's skull is said to be among the many treasures and relics inside of the Trier cathedral (I didn't get the chance to see it when I was there).

I've written before on this blog on how many old churches in Europe feel more like withering museums instead of living spiritual centers. This wasn't the case with the Matthias Abbey. As soon as I stepped in, I felt what I can only describe as a calm vibe. The fact that the cathedral was dry, somewhat warm, and nearly empty also added to the relaxed atmosphere. The only other people I saw inside were a couple of Jack Wolfskin clad tourists. In the very center of the nave was what appeared to be a sarcophagus surrounded by massive candles (~ 1 m/ 3 ft) and fresh flowers. It was a simple and very touching display of devotion that perfectly fit the monastic setting.

Effigy of the Apostle Matthias.

Sarcophagus of St. Matthias.

The crypt directly underneath the nave contains the tombs of Eucharius and Valerius, the bishops who established the archbishopric of Trier in the late 200s A.D. Also in the crypt is the ancient stone container said to hold the actual remains of the Apostle Matthias. It lies directly underneath the effigy in the nave. There was something very intimate about walking around all alone inside of the apostolic crypt. Here was one of the holiest Catholic shrines in Germany (and perhaps all of Europe) and I just happened to have it all to myself at that moment. Who would've thought? I was a wonderful experience to be there and I felt very grateful for the opportunity. My body was still cold but my spirit and heart were definitely warmed a bit by the experience. 

 

The Name's Theotokópoulos. Doménikos Theotokópoulos.

This post is the third and final of a three-part series about my recent travels through Spain.

View of Toledo from the top of La Iglesia de San Ildefonso.

The Vision of St. John (1608-
1614). Metropolitan
Museum of Art.

Many years ago, during my first trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, I spotted a totally out of place painting. Taking a closer look, I thought someone had screwed up and accidentally placed a modernist painting in the European art galleries covering 1600-1800. Surely the artist who created the twisted and ethereal forms I was seeing was from the 20th century and not from hundreds of years earlier, right? Wrong. The painting, called "The Vision of St. John", actually dates from the the early 1600s. I was simultaneously baffled and awestruck. My initial thought was, "who the heck was painting in such a style back in the 1600s?!" The answer, as I found out a few seconds later, was a fellow from Crete who spent most of his life in Spain. His name was Doménikos Theotokópoulos (Δομήνικος Θεοτοκόπουλος), more widely (and perhaps more conveniently) known as "El Greco".

This painting, as well as the other works I saw by El Greco, amazed me. There was just something so haunting and so otherworldly about them. In the course of my travels, I would go on to see a number of El Greco's paintings in various museums, like San Francisco's Legion of Honor or Munich's Alte Pinakothek. Finally, I had the chance to make it to El Greco's adopted hometown, the old Spanish city of Toledo.

The history of Toledo is so rich and so complex that I won't even dare to attempt even brief overview with this post. What I will say is that Toledo is known as the "City of the Three Cultures", which refers to the days when it was a capital city with a vibrant cultural mix of Jewish, Muslim, and Christian inhabitants. Founded as a Roman city, Toledo would become the capital of the Visigothic Kindgom in the Iberian peninsula and then a center of Muslim-ruled Spain. Once the city was reconquered by the Christians in the 11th century, it became capital of the Kingdom of Castile and then served as capital of a unified Spain until the mid-1500s. Nowadays, the city effortlessly and proudly totes it's vast cultural offerings and draws tons of tourists. While there were many, many sites to see in Toledo, this post focuses on those sites connected with El Greco.

The sumptuously Moorish
interior of Toledo's
train station.

I was up quite early and was one of the many tourists heading out to Toledo in what would be a (very long!) day trip. The trip from Madrid's Atocha station to Toledo via the high speed train only takes about 30 minutes. As soon as I stepped out of the train, I was already impressed. Toledo's train station, while rather small, is a gem of neo-Mudéjar (Moorish revival) architecture. The lovely station has been welcoming passengers to the city since the 1920s.

Although it's quite possible to walk from the station to the old city center in about 20 minutes, I decided to hop on a bus to save some time. I would need it. The bus dropped me off at the Plaza de Zocodover, which was a short distance from my first stop: the Museo de Santa Cruz.

Courtyard of the Museo de Santa Cruz.

The Museo de Santa Cruz as an institution dates from the 1960s but is housed in a former hospital built in the 1600s. Museums adapted to fit old buildings are a favorite of mine and I thought the arrangement of the museum was quite lovely. Strolling through the quiet courtyard, which had Roman, Visigothic, Arabic, and Christian artifacts on display, was very pleasant. There were a few other visitors at the museum but it was still relatively quiet and relaxing. The lack of tourist hordes made visiting the painting galleries a particularly intimate experience. In addition to many works by other Spanish Golden Age painters, there were of course many works by El Greco. One work in particular made a very strong impression on me. 

It was a painting called "The Virgin of the Immaculate Conception". Dating from around 1611, the painting shows the Holy Spirit and a heavenly host of angels surrounding the Virgin Mary. The Immaculate Conception was a popular subject in European religious art and yet El Greco's phantasmagorical rendering of the scene easily stands out as one of the most distinctive. I can't say that I've ever had an ecstatic mystical vision but I'd imagine it would look something like this painting. In this work, like so many others, El Greco isn't painting earthly figures and simple portraits. He isn't just presenting a snapshot of a story. He's painting souls and spirits as a gateway to the supernatural realm.
 

Virgin of the Immaculate Conception (ca. 1611).
Museo de Santa Cruz, Toledo.

Catedral Primada Santa
María de Toledo.

Having finished up at the Museo de Santa Cruz, I then wandered toward the center of Toledo to visit the famous cathedral. Wandering through Toledo's winding, narrow streets is a fun, if disorienting experience. For me, it went something like this: I plan my path very carefully, head out, get confused and totally lost, decide to forge ahead nonetheless, and then somehow wind up at exactly where I wanted to be having taken a completely different path than originally planned. And so, following the above procedure, I emerged from an alley and somehow found myself at the main entrance of the cathedral.

Toledo's iconic cathedral was built in the 1200s and like Toledo as a whole, the architecture is a unique blend of Gothic and Mudéjar styles. There are literally many layers of history surrounding this grand structure. The present cathedral was built over the remains of the city's great mosque, which itself was built over the remains of an earlier Visigothic cathedral. The Toledo cathedral was also meant to be a symbol of spiritual and temporal might. The powerful and highly influential Archdiocese of Toledo was said to be the second richest after Rome and with such prestige, it makes sense that there would be heavy investments in masterpiece art. Among the many artists to receive commissions for the cathedral was El Greco. One of the paintings by El Greco that adorn the cathedral is "The Disrobing of Christ". This work is particularly significant for a number of reasons. The first is that it's the earliest example of El Greco's work in Spain (dating from 1577-1579). The second, is that it remains one of his most famous works. As you can see, the painting somehow simultaneously contrasts and integrates the sacred and earthly realms. Although Jesus is shown being tormented by his captors, his demeanor and physical presence (expressed by the flowing red robe) are also shown to transcend them. While it's always a great experience to view masterpiece art in a museum, nothing compares to seeing such works of art in their intended settings. There can be no better place for a painting like this than a soaring, majestic cathedral.

The Disrobing of Christ (1579). Cathedral of Toledo.

Courtyard of the Museo del Greco.

My tour of Toledo led me to the old Jewish Quarter, located in the southeastern section of the old city. Aside from having two of Spain's three surviving synagogues, this area also houses the Museo del Greco. The museum, which opened in 1911, occupies an old house from the 1500s. It was originally thought this house was where El Greco himself lived and the museum is still commonly referred to as "Casa del Greco" or "The House of El Greco". Even though El Greco himself didn't live here, the museum is packed with artifacts from the period he lived and gives a good feel for the domestic life of a Spanish Golden Age artist in Toledo. As you might expect, there are many works from El Greco to be found here. While viewing an exhibit containing portraits of various Apostles, I noticed an elderly German fellow with a small video camera, filming each painting and giving a softly spoken commentary of some sort. When I came nearer to this guy, I realized he was saying some pretty weird stuff. For example, while looking at a painting of St. James, he mumbled something along the lines of "Mmmmm, St. James...with these colors....we can see...everything...that we wish..." I quietly (if quickly) moved on to the other paintings.

There were three paintings in particular that really stood out for me. The first was a portrait of St. John the Evangelist. Showing St. John holding a golden chalice containing a dragon, the composition and especially the sharply shaped face of the figure reminded me more of a modern anime series instead of a Spanish Golden Age representation of a Biblical figure.
 

St. John the Evangelist (ca. 1610).
Museo del Greco.

The next painting was one titled "The Tears of St. Peter". Here, St. Peter is turning to heaven, begging for forgiveness after denying Christ during the Passion. I've seen a lot of sorrowful figures in a lot of melancholic paintings but this is certainly one of the most emotive. Seeing this painting up close, it really seemed as if holy tears were seeping out of the canvas.

The Tears of St. Peter (ca. 1582).
Museo del Greco.

While El Greco is most famously known for his religious paintings and portraits, he also painted a few landscapes as well. Only two survive and one the one display at the museum was the "View and Plan of Toledo". Here, El Greco presents a mystical view of Toledo. 

View and plan of Toledo (ca. 1610).
Museo del Greco.

La Iglesia de Santo Tomé.

A sign pointing the way to
the cathedral entrance.

After some more hours of exploring Toledo, I finally (and somewhat unexpectedly) arrived at the church I had been waiting all day to see. La Iglesia de Santo Tomé is a small church in the middle of the Jewish Quarter. To be honest, it was really just another old church: Mudéjar style, lots of done up Catholic imagery, old wooden pews, etc. This church, however, does have one massive claim to fame. It houses what is one of, if not the most famous and iconic work of El Greco, "The Burial of the Count of Orgaz". Don Gonzalo Ruíz, the Count of Orgaz, was a well-known philanthropist and pious devotee of the Catholic church in the 1200s. According to legend, a miraculous event occurred at his funeral. It is said that St. Stephen and St. Augustine entered the church dressed in golden bishop robes and personally placed the Count of Orgaz in his coffin. El Greco's take on this legend is so rich and vivid that I won't even attempt an analysis or explanation. I'll just say that St. Stephen is the young bishop, St. Augustine the old one, and that El Greco included himself in the painting (he's the seventh from the left, to the upper right of the hand).

The Burial of the Count of Orgaz (1586). La Iglesia de Santo Tomé.

The tourist tram.

After some more hours of exploring Toledo, I found myself back at Plaza de Zocodover, where I saw a cheesy looking tourist tram. My first thought was "oh man, how kitch", but when I looked at the route the tram would take, I immediately bought a ticket. Aside from a good audio guide and a nice roundabout circuit through the city, the tram also stopped at the hills overlooking the city. Although walkable, I was quite tired and didn't have the energy (or the time) to hike all the way up there. With the sun starting to go down, the tram stopped for about ten minutes to give us passengers time to enjoy an amazing, El Greco style view of the city.

Holy Toledo!

At the end of a very long day, I took a leisurely stroll back to the train station. On my way, I noticed an advertisement for huge exhibition called El Greco 2014 (showing St. John the Evangelist). The festivities will celebrate four hundred years since the passing of the great painter and will feature many exhibitions all over the city. Surprisingly, this is the first event of this sort to take place in Toledo. While El Greco has gained much appreciation in the modern age, many of his contemporaries and later critics viewed his unconventional style as bizarre. If by "bizarre" they meant "distinctive", then I'd be inclined to agree. El Greco's style is highly distinctive, which is exactly why I love it so much. He's one of those very, very rare artists that truly transcend style and time. As for the "El Greco 2014" festival, I have no doubt it will be a huge success and inspiration to many, like El Greco's art itself.

I Wonder What Isabel Would Say About That?

This post is the second in a three-part series about my recent travels through Spain.

The Roman aqueduct of Segovia.

Of the many places to visit in Spain, the region of old Castile was an obvious choice for me. The kingdom of Castile rose to prominence during the Middle Ages and eventually became the largest and most powerful of the medieval kingdoms in the Iberian peninsula. The unification of Castile with the various other kingdoms essentially created the modern Spanish nation. Aside from my interest in the history, I had a personal interest as well; some of family originally comes from this region. Although they all left decades ago, I was still very interested to reconnect with one of my "motherlands".

Segovia's high speed train station.
The snow on the Guadarrama
mountains fell the day before.

As I was staying in Madrid, the closest old Castilian city of interest was certainly Segovia. With the high-speed train, the trip from Madrid's Chamartín station was only 30 minutes. While the trip was quick and smooth, Segovia's high-speed train station (Segovia-Guiomar) is inconveniently located in the middle of field. Literally. Conveniently, however, there were multiple buses  heading to Segovia's center. The bus ride took about 20 minutes and I had the amusing experience of sitting behind some silly American college students. One dude loudly proclaimed, "the town is like, super small so it won't take us long to see it all" and "we can, like, hike up to castle and if the clouds break, we'll totally get the coolest views ever!" Spain is quite popular with American students studying abroad and I would encounter many of them that day.

The bus dropped me and all the other day trippers from Madrid right in front of Segovia's oldest and most famous attraction: the mighty Roman aqueduct. Dating from the 1st century CE, the aqueduct dominates this part of the city, rising 29 m (94 ft) above ground at its highest point. The water it carried flowed through channels beneath the city that even went to the Alcázar (castle) at the edge of the historic city center. Although it's no longer used, the aqueduct is still easily capable of transporting water. That's right, it's 2,000 years old and it works just as well now as when it was first built. Roman engineering is truly a wonder for the ages. Unsurprisingly, the aqueduct (along with Segovia's other historic monuments) is a UNESCO World Heritage site.

A view of the Segovia aqueduct overlooking Plaza de Azoguejo.

Casa de los Picos on
Calle de Juan Bravo.

My first stop was the tourist office, located right next to the aqueduct. The people there were especially friendly and offered a huge amount of services and support. I'll dare to say it might've been the best tourist office I've ever been to. In any case, I just popped in to get a free map of the city. A friendly attendant gladly handed me one and pointed out how to get to the various points of interest. He then asked me where I was from. For some reason, this question of "where are you from?" really made me stop and think. As an American with Indian, Latino, and Spanish roots, the question "where do I come from?" is often an existential one for me. After pausing for a moment, I simply gave the literal answer and said, "Madrid". He then asked if I was with anyone else. "No, just me", I said. He seemed a bit surprised that someone would visit Segovia from Madrid alone but nonetheless wished me great trip.

The Segovia Cathedral from
as seen from a nearby park.

Every tourist guide I consulted about Segovia warned that the famous Alcázar at the edge town gets very crowded, very quickly, especially on the weekends (I was there on a Saturday). As such, I made a beeline for the Alcázar. The old city has lots of interesting buildings and I especially liked the street signs, many of which were actually colorful murals. By the time I reached Calle de Isabel la Católica, however, I was frozen through. Most of Spain was in the middle of a sudden cold snap (it was late April) and many parts, including the Segovia area, had received fresh snowfall the day before. At the time of my arrival in Segovia, it was a not-so-toasty 9 °C (48 °F). I popped into the first café I could find and ordered a large café con leche. It was the perfect way to warm up and fondly reminded me of the coffee that my (Puerto Rican) grandmother makes. Let me take a moment to rave about the coffee in Spain. Simply put, it's wonderful. Although I'm more of a tea drinker, I do enjoy enjoy coffee as well, particularly when it is as good as what you'll find in Spain. This blog has a great discussion of Spanish coffee.

The main entrance of the Alcázar.

After a brisk walk through the city center and past the lovely cathedral of Segovia, I arrived at the entrance to the Alcázar. Although I could only see a portion of it, it struck me as quite intimidating. The name "Castile" (Spanish: Castilla) is derived from the word "castillo" (castle), so one can interpret the name "Castile" to mean "land of the castles". The abundance of castles in this region a harks back to the days of the Reconquista, when Christian rulers sought to consolidate their power over areas formerly under Islamic rule. There were certainly other tourists around when I arrived but the inside of the Alcázar was relatively quiet.  

The thrones of the
Catholic Monarchs.

One of the first areas one encounters in the Alcázar is the throne room, which contains the actual thrones of the Catholic Monarchs Fernando II of Aragon and Isabel I of Castile. Their marriage unified the two largest and most important of the old Spanish kingdoms and essentially marks the beginning of modern Spain. The phrase "tanto monta" ("they amount to the same") was supposedly the motto used by the couple and referred to the fact that they ruled as equals. The adjacent room had a large mural showing the coronation of Isabel, which took place in the Alcázar itself in 1474. Isabel is the one of those fascinatingly complex figures in history whose legacy continues to inspire both admiration and disdain (more on this later). No matter how people feel about her, no one can deny that she left her mark on Spanish history as well as world history. Her sponsorship (really a wild venture capitalist type of gamble) of Christopher Columbus' fateful expedition in 1492 would change the course of history.
 

Mural inside the Alcázar showing the coronation
of Isabel I of Castile.

Title card for the Televisión
Española series "Isabel".

As I made my way through the Alcázar, I overheard a few people chatting about the new, award-winning hit television series "Isabel". Produced by Televisión Española, "Isabel" is basically a sexed up historical drama very much in the style and tradition of other sexed up historical dramas like Showtime's "The Tudors" or HBO's "Rome". The series has been a huge hit in Spain and I also became a fan in the months prior to my trip. It was a great and entertaining way to help me brush up on my Spanish! For anyone interested in watching the show (and who knows Spanish!), all the episodes are freely available online at the Televisión Española website. Aside from entertaining a nation, the "Isabel" series also seems to have stirred up renewed interest in the actual life and times of one of Spain's greatest rulers.

The main cast of TVE's "Isabel".

One of the most impressive rooms was the Hall of Kings. This spacious room showcased statues of all the rulers of Castile under a beautifully adorned golden ceiling while the large windows provided a fantastic view of the surrounding area.

A grand hall with statues of all the rulers of Castile.

The Hall of Kings also had a
great view of the countryside!

The tower of Juan II.

My final stop in the Alcázar was the tower of Juan II (la torre de Juan II). As is typical of old European castle and church towers, the ascent to the top was somewhat vertigo-inducing. It was also a rather tight squeeze, but fortunately I didn't encounter anyone else while going up. When I finally reached the top of the tower, I was awestruck. Although it was still chilly and breezy, the overcast, gray sky from earlier in the morning had given way to clear views and skies with fluffy clouds leisurely floating along. The views from the tower of the countryside and especially of the city itself were stunning, to say the least. I'm sure the American students from the earlier bus ride would've remarked on "like, how freakin' awesome" it was. And I would've totally agreed!

The postcard shot of Segovia and its iconic cathedral.

One of the the pictures I took from the tower struck me as quintessentially Castilian; an old cathedral majestically rising up from a fortified town against the backdrop of snow-capped mountains while the Spanish flag (often seen as a particularly Castilian symbol in modern Spain) fluttered in the cool breeze.
 

This is probably the most "Castilian" photo of my entire trip.

La Iglesia de la Vera Cruz.

When planning my trip to Segovia, I discovered some of the best views of the Alcázar could be had from an area downhill, just outside of the city center. The particular viewpoint was from the Vera Cruz church. It's a small church with a relatively unadorned, almost austere appearance both inside and out. It does, however, have an interesting history. It was built in the 1200s by Crusaders, specifically the Knights Hospitaller. This order would eventually become the Sovereign Military Order of Malta (SMOS), an organization that endures to this day. The SMOS, however, has long since traded in its swords and shields and is now a major charitable and humanitarian NGO operating around the world. SMOS is also an active patron of the Vera Cruz church and oversees its conservation. The stroll to the church was a pleasant one and I did indeed get some fantastic views of the Alcázar.

The Alcázar is supposedly one of the
inspirations for the Disney castle.

I leisurely strolled back into town, past the Alcázar and walked through the old Jewish quarter. Back at the city center, I stopped for lunch at a cute little restaurant called "Almuzara", which had a number of vegetarian items on the menu. Vegetarianism in Spain and in Old Castile in particular is not at all common and most people are hardly familiar with even the concept of vegetarianism. In fact, the joke goes that people in the region consider dead pig to be a vegetable. In this regard, Segovia is famous for a dish called "cochinillo asado", which is basically a whole roasted piglet cut into quarters with the edge of plate. For vegetarians such as myself, the thought and especially the sight of this classic Segovian dish was unpleasant, to say the least.

After lunch, I popped in to the lovely Segovia cathedral. Often called "la dama de las catedrales" (the dame of cathedrals), the Segovia cathedral is the last Gothic style church to be built in Spain and dates from the mid-1500s. The various little exhibits and shrines inside the cathedral would automatically light up when approached, a feature I had never seen before. The illumination would've been more dramatic had the cathedral been darker inside but I still appreciated its novelty.
 

A view of the Segovia cathedral from the Plaza Mayor.

The city of Rome presented Segovia with this statue
to celebrate the 2000th anniversary of the aqueduct.

After exploring some more of the city, I eventually found myself back at the aqueduct. I had a bit of time before the bus to the train station would arrive so I just hung around and relaxed, strolling along the aqueduct and people watching. After a while, I started to think more about Isabel. Quite frankly, I wasn't quite sure what to make of her. On one hand, she can easily been seen as a great hero for all of her momentous accomplishments. Through her strength and cunning, she completely reformed, both economically and politically, a decrepit, unstable, and crime-ridden country and turned it into a powerful nation where the rule of law triumphed. Her marriage to Fernando and the joining Castile with Aragon basically created modern Spain and brought stability to a region long plagued by infighting and civil unrest. Her gutsy sponsorship of Columbus led to discovery of the New World and later on she publicly criticized Columbus' harsh treatment of the Native American peoples. She openly called for their fair and humane treatment although her sentiments would sadly not have much influence in the years after her death. Isabel, a powerful and successful female ruler in an age where female rulers were almost unheard of, is even interpreted by some as a feminist role model.

"The Expulsion of the Jews from Spain" by
Emilio Sala y Francés (1892). I saw this
painting up close at the Museo Prado.

On the other hand, Isabel wasn't exactly warm and fuzzy. She became posthumously known as "Isabel the Catholic" on account of her faith, devotion to, and support of the Catholic church.  However, you could easily argue that she was intolerantly and fanatically pious. During her reign, she established the dreaded Tribunal of the Holy Office of the Inquisition, aka the Spanish Inquisition, an institution that became legendary for its extremely cruel and brutal treatment of "heretics" and other "enemies of the church". The war against the Emirate of Granada, the last Islamic Kingdom in the Iberian peninsula, was as much a religious crusade for Isabel as it was a political one. In 1492, Granada was defeated and the centuries-long Christian reconquest (Reconquista) of the Iberian peninsula was complete. In the very same year, the Alhambra Decree formally expelled the Jews (Sephardi) from Spain. Even those Jews who converted to avoid expulsion were constantly harassed by the Inquisition, which suspected them of being "false converts" or "crypto-Jews". The Sephardic Jews (some estimate about 100,000 in total) were scattered far and wide, with most settling in north Africa or in areas ruled by the Ottoman Empire. All in all, Isabel did a fantastic job of wiping out once and for all "era of the Three Cultures", that is the age in which Christians, Jews, and Muslims co-existed in the Iberian peninsula. In an interesting modern twist to this story, the Spanish government recently announced it would be offering a right of return and Spanish citizenship to the descendents of the expelled Sephardic Jews. As the BBC headline put it "Sephardic Jews invited back to Spain after 500 years". Better late than never I suppose.

So what's the verdict on Isabel? Is she a great hero or an oppressive religious fanatic? Or perhaps both? Questions like these are what make history so intriguing to me. It's easy to categorize someone as either a saintly hero or a despicable tyrant, but what happens when they're a bit of both, like in the case of Isabel? I haven't a clue. The only thing I can say for sure is that Isabel Trastámara, Queen of Castile, Queen Consort of Aragon, and Servant of God as decreed by the Roman Catholic Church, would probably object to the sexy lingerie shop on the street bearing her name in Segovia.