In Toledo it always smells like there’s a campfire nearby. Sometimes it’s mingled with the alluring saltiness of cured meats, coffee or the strangely acidic scent of wetness after a brief rain. I think that’s what history smells like, but I’m not sure. After today, I can safely say that the Monastery of San Juan de los Reyes is what history looks like.
When I arrived at the hostel, the receptionist gave me a little map with at least 20 orange buildings highlighted on it and told me, “Visit all these.” I knew almost nothing about Toledo a few days ago, but I definitely knew that I didn’t need to see every historical landmark on the map. I could have done a bunch of research on the internet and read up on the cultural significance of each site, but… I’ve never been that kind of traveler. Instead I woke up, had un café con leche and started walking.
I tried (loosely) to stay on the main path that cuts through the center of the city, but that’s easier said than done. There were 
times where I was squeezing myself between two buildings and assuming that I was hopelessly lost, only to see a sign telling me to dive deeper into the labyrinth. It was actually pretty amusing, and I’ve since learned that you can’t get too lost when you’re tucked inside the maze of the city walls.
After some window shopping and churro-eating, I arrived at a formidable building wrapped in a bunch of ugly construction work. It was marked as a point of interest on the map and an elderly tour group standing nearby seemed relatively satisfied with their experience. Gingerly dodging buckets of paint, I approached the main desk and paid my 2,50€, expecting to be shuffled into a church.
Instead, I made my way through a crumbling archway and immediately breathed a quiet, “Oh!”
I’ve fallen in love with a few places. I fell in love with some views in Prague, a night sky under the northern lights and a mountain in Yellowstone National Park. I, too, am in love with the Monastery of San Juan de los Reyes. Or, to be more specific, the courtyard and the garden.
Built in 1477, the monastery still in use. Monks stroll the property and services are held in the church. There are two courtyards, one upper and one lower, both of which are intricately decorated.
I admired a single rose blooming bravely in the garden – a perfect contrast to the plump mandarin oranges that dangled precariously from a tree. A blue, almost white fir seemed to radiate light, and I found myself wondering if it would continue to grow or simply stay the same size. I’m a novice when it comes to architecture, but if I’m pretending I know what I’m talking about… I can confidently say that the sharp
edges of the gothic edifice contrasted purposefully with what was a veritable garden of Eden. According to the internet, th
ough, the monastery is “an example of Gothic style with Spanish and Flemish influences.” All I know is that I almost cried when a sunshower started, and I was alone the entire time.
Thus far, Toledo has been doing a pretty satisfactory job at satiating my desire to be awe-inspired. Happy Valentine’s Day everyone – wherever your love may be.
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