The hotel room had coffee, which was a good start to the day because it meant that I didn’t have to immediately find a coffee shop in a religious city that was probably closed on Sundays. Then some biccies for brekkie, brush my teeth, a shower, dress, and out!

On the way to the hotel last night I had noticed a sign to a Visigoth museum. I was fascinated, so decided to have a look.

The building has an amazing tower either of Muslim origin or inspiration. I’d already photographed it a few times the evening before as the light played on the structure and highlighted colours.

The inside of the building was another world! Moorish arches, atop Roman, Byzantine, and Visigothic columns and capitals – an incredible mishmash of styles, cobbled together to almost fit. Murals from Visigoth times with Latin inscriptions and then Moorish windows and Arabic writing. The paintings of saints were often in intense colours.

Around the building were various displays telling about life in the Visigoth kingdom, how it came to be, and it’s ultimate fate, and how it fitted into the late Roman empire. The objects that were displayed demonstrated a high level of culture, which challenges the stereotype that Visigoths were ignorant barbarians.

Everything was documented in Spanish, which I am getting better at reading, however I think the building itself is somewhat of a mystery! Apart from the rather incongruous baroque altarpiece – the least interesting artefact, and the one that’s provenance is best known.

The other place I wanted to visit was the Caves of Hercules (actually the Roman Underground of Toledo). However, when I got there they are only open Wednesday to Saturday. So I could have seen them yesterday but not today.

Damn!

Instead I had brunch. No, I wasn’t comforting eating because I was disappointed!

Needing a beard trim because the heat was making my face very itchy, I found a barbers across town (outside the medieval city). It appeared to be run by a very capable woman; it was she that was on all the photos and it was she who was putting up a shelf when I arrived. A chap sorted me out while she got on with her DIY. She wasn’t wearing dungarees. Stop thinking it!

It was in the PM when the barber had worked his magic and I figured that I’d like to take the river walk. It is possible to walk from one side of Toledo to the other following the river through it’s canyon, the city high on one side of you.

On the way I passed a pile of old concrete, which turned out to be the Roman circus (reminder to think chariots rather than clowns). What is impressive is not really the above ground remains and more the size and the space that the structure and the course took up – you can trace most of the outline of the first tier of seating and walk from one end of the track to the other. It’s a considerable distance!

So I got my Roman fix in the end!

From there, the river wasn’t far. The walk starts at one medieval bridge (I started at Puente del San Martin). A gorgeous structure, even more beautiful than the one I crossed when I first entered the city.

From there I followed the river all the way round to the other famous bridge, the Puente de Azarquiel.

A lot of the route is at water level. There are trees and reeds and of course the fast flowing green Tajo river. Whilst it was hot, at no point did I fancy having a dip – I didn’t have a good feeling about the water, and later on I saw yukky yellow-green gloop spinning on the surface.

The smell was however wonderful and evocative of childhood by the little rivers of my home town, and even of a time that my husband and I spent white water rafting in Nepal.

The sound of the city faded and was replaced by wind in the trees and the sound of the running water over rapids and weirs. Old structures poked up through the water – the remains of bridges or of houses for managing the water’s flow.

There were birds, but mostly the menacing sound of the frantic crickets strumming their fiddle-like legs so fast that I thought they might combust!

Contrasting with the smell of water was the smell of dryness, like the inside of a sauna. Dry grass lay all around beneath the greenness of the trees, reminding me that Spain is a tinderbox this time of year.

Then, suddenly, the smell of figs! I smelt them before I saw the leaves. Distinct and fresh.

Up and down went the path. At one point climbing nearly as high as the city up a winding wooden staircase with the aroma of hot amber. I was certainly hot after that climb!

I came back into the city via the gate opposite Puente de Azarquiel, climbing up and up and up. Taking a moment out when I realised that I could walk the top of the wall above the gate.

After all that walking, I felt I deserved a treat! Ice-cream to help me cool down.