Saturday a week ago, I was out and about with some friends, enjoying La Noche Toledana. Click here for the previous post explaining what it’s about, in case you’ve missed it.
Armed with a bottle of beer (what a classy lot we are) and ice cream, we witnessed ‘the burning of the man’:
If you’re wondering what this annual ritual is all about, I haven’t got the faintest.
They put up projectors in the streets, so we knew where we were at all times. Quite handy, as I couldn’t find my way out of a paper bag…
The court building all eerily lit up
Toledo Cathedral by night
La Noche Toledana gave us the opportunity to get into Toledo Cathedral for free. They usually charge an outrageous €12, and so I’d only ever been inside once. There was an organ concert, which normally wouldn’t be quite my thing, but it made for an amazing atmosphere that night.
Shoddy workmanship, that. There’s still a few bits NOT covered with gold paint!
El Greco’s Apostles. The renaissance painter, born in Crete, lived in Toledo and died here in 1614. He is said to have used patients in a local mental hospital as models for the faces of his famous paintings of the twelve Apostles.
Not only the Son of God, but also the most celebrated pole dancer of his time. I always suspected that his alleged carpentry gig was just a cover to feign respectability
I took these earlier on, outside the town hall; it was still light when we set out on our round:
“Red socks and sandals. Bloody ridiculous!”
“I did try telling him this morning!”
“Just keep scrambling those eggs, woman, at least that’s something you know about”
“Keep your hair on! Not that you’ve got a whole lot left under that silly hat. Ooooops… another one of your bal… sore spots, is it?!”