CHILE AND A BIT OF ITS RECENT HISTORY

PROVIDENCIA-A VERY MODERN AREA OF
BEAUTIFUL SANTIAGO

The rest of the year 1972 went by speedily and uneventfully; I had a lot of work to do, and a lot to study to catch up with, due to my continuous absences from class. All of my teachers understood my special situation, and when an exam was due and I was absent, they would set a new date for me to take it. They knew I was a good student, a few of them, especially the younger ones, were very supportive and had no complain about my continued and extended absences. By now I was attending the sixth level at the School of Economics, the last one previous to the presentation of a thesis which would be reviewed, studied and evaluated by a School Committee appointed by the School’s Board, prior to obtaining my diploma as an Economist.
In February 1973, school was over; I was able to dedicate more time to work. The busy season at The Firm had started early in January, and all of us at The Firm had to work long hours to make sure our clients would receive their audited financial statements and Tax Reports on time, and prior to the corporate and tax reporting dead lines at the end of March. Many times we had to work over 16 hours a day to make sure our dead lines were met. I was deeper and deeper into the tax area but was still very much involved in the auditing area too.
By the end of April, the busy season in The Firm was over, we had satisfied our clients’ needs and met their deadlines, and everybody at the office was relaxed and happy. Soon the training programs for the year would start and almost all the staff would be going somewhere outside of the country on training for at least three weeks. For young people coming from a lower middle and middle class as we were, travelling abroad with all expenses paid by the company was something everyone excitedly looked forward to. At the beginning of May the new promotions were announced, I had been promoted to the level of Senior-3, almost a manager, and in addition, I had been officially put in charge of the Tax Division, which by now was already billing around 15% of the whole office’s billings. Our staff, at that point, consisted of 15 auditors and one tax man (me). The numbers spoke for themselves; my division was becoming more and more important within The Firm and the most profitable too. In mid May I was sent to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, for another Tax Managers and Partners meeting which took place at the old and well known Copacabana Hotel, right on the famous beach of the same name, where by just crossing the streets one was able to admire the beautiful and famous “garotas du Copacabana”. It was a week of great training and superior acquaintance with the cream of the cream of the tax people in The Firm from all over Latin America. At the end of the training program, I went to Buenos Aires and Santiago de Chile on holidays, and had planned to meet in the latter city with my friend and classmate at the U, Celso Santacruz who was coming from a training session in Lima, Peru. We planned to spend a couple of weeks in Santiago to see what we could see of Chile, since this was going to be our first time there.


LA MONEDA (GOVERNMENT) PALACE IN
SANTIAGO DE CHILE

Celso and I arrived in Santiago de Chile in the middle of the worst economic and political crisis this beautiful country had gone through in its 153 years as a an independent republic. The Marxist government of President Salvador Allende, which had taken over in 1970, had dramatically changed the rules of the country’s economy. It had nationalized the mining and the banking industries as well as all major privately owned businesses and industries; it had started an aggressive program of redistribution of land ownership, causing, as a result, a severe downturn in the country’s mining, agricultural and industrial output, this was causing severe shortages of almost every kind of goods in the market, especially of food and clothing. The Allende government was so disastrously managing the country’s finances, that by 1972, the fiscal deficit of the Chilean Government had reached 6% of the country’s GDP, and by mid 1973 it had gotten so much worse as to reduce its GDP by 30% compared to the prior year. Chile’s economy was in a free fall. The country had reduced its foreign currency reserves to only one month worth of imports while food shortages caused skyrocketing inflation and unemployment rates began to rise to the point of sky rocketing.
Allende, known to be a moderate socialist, had been elected by congress in 1970, after obtaining only a 36% of the popular vote, but he got caught between an extremist left strongly supported by Fidel Castro and his communist Cuban government, which pushed for a full turn to soviet style communism, and a confronting political right which wanted to maintain the status quo. Inflation had closely followed a severe devaluation of the Chilean currency, causing a vicious circle of more money printing provoking more inflation, inevitably followed by additional devaluations and more money printing and so on and so forth. The government tried to control inflation by setting artificially low prices for food and other personal goods, but this caused the disappearance of those goods in the open market only to “reappear” in the black market at much higher prices. Preposterous as it may seem, as an important economic analyst would say, in this chaotic economy the price of an egg sometimes was higher than the price of a hen. There was no wine in the market when before the crisis, Chile was the largest producer and exporter of wine in Latin America. It was chaos at its best, and it was getting worse by the day.
Visitors as we were, and looking for adventure, we took advantage of the chaotic situation of the Chilean economy and exchanged our dollars in the black market at rates that were 20 times as high as the official rate of 60 Escudos for one Dollar. That made us, the hard currency holders, almost millionaires compared to the common Chilean in the streets (whose income was shrinking by the day due to the inflation), and allowed us to enjoy the status of reach people when mixing with young people of our age, some of them Ecuadorian students on scholarships in Chilean Universities and their young Chilean peers. As a result, we ended up having a real good time while witnessing one of the more dramatic economic and political times in Chilean History.
By the time Celso and I arrived in Chile, the Chileans were clearly divided between strong supporters and strong opponents of the Allende government, there was no middle ground. Thousands of civilians were almost openly carrying light guns and they knew it wasn’t for games. There were no midfielders, a violent confrontation, a civil war, was evidently coming, and indeed, it came only three months later when the Army, under the command of General Pinochet, deposed President Allende, who, as official History says, killed himself as the army troops entered the Government palace, making his government's fall inevitable.
Historians are divided regarding the last moments of President Allende’s life. Some say he killed himself with a rifle that was handed to him by Cuban President Fidel Castro as a personal gift when visiting Chile only a few months before Allende’s fall; some say he was killed by the troops as they were entering the Presidential Palace; some others say President Allende was killed by CIA agents infiltrated in the Army, and, finally, there are others who say Allende was actually killed by a one of his body guards, a Cuban Army officer who was married to one of Allende’s daughters. Connected or not to the latter version, two years later, Allende's daughter committed suicide in Habana where she was living as an exile. Also, for historical records, a sister of president Allende, who was also living in Habana as a political exile, killed herself too, by jumping from the tallest hotel building in Cuba when, as some historians say, she found out that her brother Salvador Allende was killed by Cuban Agents acting under direct orders from Habana. As the story goes, Castro never wanted Allende to survive and tell the story of the high level of influence his regime had in the fallen Chilean government.
When my friend Celso and I left Chile at the end of May 1973, we had mixed feelings. On one side, we felt good about our holidays in a place where we ate like Romans and drank and danced as Cossacks on holidays, while on the other side we were sad to have witnessed some of the events leading to an inevitable clash between Chileans, because at that point, a peaceful political settlement was already out of the question and a civil war seemed all but inevitable. There is still a lot of controversy about the causes, the protagonists and the victims of the events starting on September 11, 1973.


THE IMPRESSIVE ANDEAN MOUNTAINS IN CHILE

Historians say that over two thousand five hundred people were killed in the events following the fall of Allende, most of them civilians followers of the Marxist regime, but, the fact of the matter is that today, 37 years after those events and less than two generations afterward, Chile is a completely different nation, a nation just about to jump into the first world, a country where Chileans of all social and economic classes live and work in peace, a country which is no longer discussing whether is good or bad to be opened to the world, a country which is light years ahead of every other country in Latin America in its quest for social and economic justice, while freedom has been preserved for every one of its 17 million citizens. Was it worth the price Chile had to pay? I leave that to the Chilean History to tell.

In my next post: GETTING MARRIED, A TOUGH DECISION TO MAKE

BACK TO WORK AND ORDINARY LIFE

THE SUGAR BREAD MOUNTAIN
IN RIO DE JANEIRO-AN ICON OF BRAZIL


Permanent training was one of the characteristics of our work at The Firm. I was back to work in mid June 1972, and the first thing I had to do was to attend a training course for Latin American Tax Managers, in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. The Tax Division was, at the time, the fastest growing area within The Firm, and, therefore, an intense training program had been developed for us. I was able to see again many of my colleagues from all over Latin America, some of them had become managers, some others had already become partners, and all of them had two things in common which I tried to learn from; Professionalism and Chivalry.
During the rest of the year I was assigned to many different jobs in Guayaquil, Quito and Cuenca, most of them included auditing and tax work which came handy to me as I was increasingly involved in both areas. In July 1972, I was promoted to the position of Senior Auditor, in charge of the Tax Division, with many responsibilities which corresponded to a Manager, an indication that I was just about to become a manager in The Firm. Meanwhile I continued attending the U as much as my work permitted, and complying with all the school assignments just as any other regular student would. At this point I was registered in the sixth level at the School of Economics at the U of Guayaquil, and was only months from completing the program to become an Economist after submitting my Thesis which would be subject to approval by the Board of the School of Economics before the U would issue my official diploma.
My private life was kind of messy though. Too many trips and a lot of time away from home had prevented me from maintaining a steady relationship with any girl, least of all with Fanny, who, with all the reason in the world, started to complain about my long absences and the lack of commitment in our relationship. Seriously, I was not ready to dedicate too much of my time to what at this point I did not consider one of my priorities. I was at this time more concerned about my job in the first place, in complying with my school assignments, in the second place, in having fun with my friends over the weekends in the third place, and thinking about a serious relationship was only a distant fourth. It was at this point when I came to have three girl friends simultaneously, frankly I don’t remember now how did I manage to do this and not being caught by any of the three, the fact of the matter is that all three of them were also students at the U of G and they knew I was a”very busy man”, but at the same time they knew (I guess), I was a good prospect who they wanted to pursue. Normally I would assign Friday night to go out with one of them, Saturday night to go out with the other, and Fanny always had Sunday all for herself. Monday through Friday I was normally away, working somewhere away from Guayaquil. Thank God there were no cell phones in those days.

On June 30, 1972, the day I came to be 30, I was in the hospital because my tonsils had been removed that morning. I was lying on my bed in a two bed room with no patient in the other bed. I had been advised by my doctor not to speak for three consecutive days, an order that I was complying to the point.
In order to avoid any undesirable encounters, I had advised of my operation to no one but my sister Lilita and her family, who were in fact my own family. They visited me by noon time and had left the room at about 2 PM; they left a nice flower bouquet on top of the table next to my bed and wished me a happy birthday and a prompt recovery. About one hour later, unexpectedly, Fanny showed up in my room, she kissed me in my cheek, wished me a happy BD, and handed me a present packed in a little box which I opened and saw that it contained a nice golden chain with a crucifix, and a card wishing me a happy BD and a nice handwritten message on it. The card was signed “I love you much, Fanny”. That was certainly something I did not expect from Fanny as we had been distanced from each other for over a month by then. I felt good about it and wished I could embrace her, kiss her and tell her I loved her too, but I could only hold her hand tightly and bring it closer to my chest, to my heart which should have been galloping like a colt following his mother. I really felt good about her visit, her message and her present. We remained holding hands for about half an hour, just looking at each other and immersed in our own thoughts about our relationship, when, suddenly, a young girl opened the door and showed her face as if trying to enter the room, she was one of my other two girl friends, she had a present in her hand. She looked at me and Fanny as we were holding hands, she stopped right at the door; she looked at me with her eyes in flames and left the room even before entering it, shutting the door loudly behind her. I wanted to be 30 feet below the ground, I was terribly embarrassed, I literally could not speak and I think it was better that way, as I had no valid explanation for Fanny, who by now had let my hand loose and was showing her irritation in silence, in her eyes, with an expression of more fury than disgust. Five minutes later she left the room in silence without even saying good bye to me, I believe she though for a moment of taking her present and the happy BD card back with her, but she didn’t. I guess I deserved her irritation. I was actually afraid that that was it with Fanny, I felt terribly sorry for her and I wished I could follow her wherever she went and try to explain the unexplainable so as to get her to pardon me. That was the day when I started thinking seriously about our relationship, if I just was able to rebuild it!

THE COPACABANA BEACH, A JEWEL OF BRAZIL
AND LATIN AMERICA
The rest of the year 1972 went by with nothing special to remember, except the fact that I tried several times to rebuild my relationship with Fanny with little success. In September 1972, I was invited to the wedding of one of my classmates, Guido Cortes, a fine, chubby guy who was a student leader and an auditor working for the Government’s Tax Department. The reception took place at the Lions’ Club’s main building nearby the soccer stadium, a place that was not far from the place I lived at, with my sister Lilita. I had decided to attend the party and invited no one to be my couple. Little did I know that I was going to see Fanny in that party, she was accompanied by a guy I didn’t know and I still don’t know who he was. Whether she was dating him or was just a friend, I never knew, the fact of the matter is that she was there and she and I pretended we hadn’t seen each other. I didn’t feel good about it, I was hurt by the fact she was in a party with someone that was not me, period. From then on, I decided to play the role of the hurt guy and stopped calling her altogether, I knew I deserved whatever she was up to, and after all, for all practical purposes we had broken apart, or so I thought. But I did not want to accept the fact she was dating someone else, I guess you can say I was jealous, maybe, or, perhaps I wasn’t but it still didn’t make me feel good. So, for over a month and a half I did not call her, but somehow I hoped that she would call, but she didn’t. Finally, one night, before school was over, I left my classroom and went right across my school campus toward Fanny’s, I wanted to wait and see if I could pick Fanny as she was going home after her own classes. I was lucky, she saw my car and she saw me standing by it. She separated from a group of classmates she was walking with and came to me, we said hello to each other amicably, tenderly, I hugged her and she hugged me, no words were said, no words needed to be said, she and I had reconciled, she sat in my car and we headed home, slowly, as if nothing had happened. I guess that was the best way to do it. Neither one of us needed to say we were sorry…
In my next posting: CHILE AND A BIT OF ITS RECENT HISTORY

SPAIN, THE SAD PART

THE MONUMENT TO CERVANTES, DON QUIXOTE
AND SANCHO, AT THE PLAZA DE ESPAÑA
IN THE HEART OF MADRID

Before I went to Europe, my friend Mauricio Cadena, an artist living in Quito, who, while studying art in Spain had married a Spanish Girl, asked me to visit his in laws when I get to Madrid. So I did. They were retirees well into their seventies who had seen neither their daughter, nor their son in law or their two children (12 and 10), who had been born in Ecuador since she left Spain many years back. It was a very interesting encounter because they were two old and conservative persons who had grown, lived and gotten used to the restrictions of the Franco Regime (which took over power in Spain in the late thirties, after a bloody civil war in which almost a million Spaniards lost their lives). On the other side, I was a young, outspoken, not conservative man in his late twenties, who had grown under a definitely imperfect, but humanistic political system, which did not restrict any of the individual’s freedoms, least of all the freedom of speech, and thus, I was used to speak out as I wished, anywhere, about anything, with anyone.

The restaurant they had chosen was a modest one, located on the second floor of an old building at “La Gran Via”, the main street of the old Madrid, only about two blocks from beautiful fountain La Cibeles, (Cibeles is the Greek goddess of the soil, the agriculture and fertility), and about six blocks from the Plaza de España on the other end of the street. La Cibeles is a landmark of Madrid and it is a large and at night very colorful fountain at the center of which is a carriage on which the goddess Cibeles rides, pulled by two big lions. We sat on a corner of the room, looking to the street, through the transparent curtains and could see the changing colors in the fountain.


LA CIBELES FOUNTAIN, A LANDMARK OF MADRID

The lights in the restaurant were deem and did not allow a clear view of the other people in the place. The tables’ set up was nice and clean, with a green table cloth on top of a white one serving as the base cloth, leaving the white corners uncovered. A small vase with fresh and colorful flowers was sitting at the center of the table, and two types of wine glasses were placed in each of the three places were we would soon be eating. Very pleasing, slow Spanish guitar music was heard throughout the dining room. As the waiter approached us to take the order I told my companions that I will take care of the bill, but the old couple insisted that they would do so, as I was considered their “guest of honor”, something that I reluctantly accepted as it was obvious to me that these people were living on a tight budget. They ordered the ever present tapas including Jamon Serrano and “Callos a la Madrilène”, delicious dishes of the Spanish Cuisine, and, of course, Paella a la Valenciana, that delicious Spanish dish that by then I had eaten at least ten times while in Madrid. I did not order wine, even though my hosts insisted that I should, because I didn’t want the bill to reach a high amount.

While dining, almost obsessive as I had always been with History and Politics; I began a conversation about the Spanish political system and made my point about what I thought of Franco and his abusive government. Suddenly, my dinner companions began showing anxiety and fear which I could see in their faces. Very nervous as they were, they asked me to lower my voice, with a very clear indication that we might be listened by the government’s bugging systems, and therefore we might be arrested for speaking against Franco and his regime. That was the first time I could see in real people that strange sensation of fear of speaking, I could see it in their faces, in their voices and attitudes. That sensation of fear of speaking was totally alien to me until then, and I could only see it and feel it again many, many years later when I visited Cuba with my daughter Angie, and I talked to real people about their real tragic lives within that immense prison the Castro brothers have made of that beautiful island. On that occasion I could talk to young as well as adult people whose only hope is to be able to escape the island, as they have already lost hope of any improvement in their political system.

My dinner with this old couple in this half free Spain ended with a big hug they gave me, which I was supposed to deliver to their daughter, their son in law and their grand children, which I did, but, the impression of fear in their faces still remains in my eye balls, just the same as it remains the pain, the suffering and the lack of hope of those poor Cuban individuals I met in Havana in 2003. But, as the old Spanish saying goes; "there is no evil that can last one hundred years, nor a body that can take it", Spain is now a free and prosperous country and every Spaniard can speak out their feelings or their ideas. I certainly hope, I truly hope that some day, sooner, rather than later, the great Cuba of Marti, Antonio Maceo and Maximo Gomez, and its twelve million people, will be able to enjoy full freedom just as all human beings should.


LA GRAN VIA IN MADRID, A SYMBOL OF SPAIN

I continued my visit to Madrid and its surroundings for another two days, I went shopping for souvenirs at a special site not very far from a place were I ate the most delicious Spanish “turrones” one can think of, not very far from which I bought a beautiful doll for Fanny, whom, much to my own amazement, I though of many times while in Europe. She still keeps the doll in our bedroom as a reminder of the old days in which she wouldn’t know where we were heading with our relationship. Sometimes I tease her saying that this was the doll she got from St. Anthony, the saint who made the miracle to her, that is, then, the doll that got me hooked!

After more than 30 days in Europe, I took a plane returning to Ecuador. I felt very happy with everything I did; I felt very happy to have begun to materialize some of my childhood dreams of going around the world. Though I didn’t ride the flying trains of my childhood dreams, I enjoyed visiting the history, the geography, the architecture the art, the music, the culture in general, and the people of Europe, the continent I had seen only in maps and had known about from the books I studied while being a young student. Europe was, certainly, a great point to start my ever present desire to see the world. With the exception of my conversation with the old Spanish couple by the Cibeles, I was never disappointed at anything I saw, heard or felt while in Europe, I just loved the old and beautiful Europe!

Thirteen years later I returned to Europe as a married man, with my wife, Fanny and two of my three children, Mariuxi (11) and Rafael Jr. (9). Angie, the youngest (5) stayed in Guayaquil with my sister Lilita; because we thought she was too young to endure the three week trip. We visited almost the same places I visited the first time. Such was my love for Europe that I wanted to enjoy it again, this time with my dear family. Neither one of us got disappointed either, we all loved Europe. The sad part of this trip, however, came right upon our return to Guayaquil. As we arrived in the Guayaquil airport, our youngest one, Angie, ran into my arms and almost crying said, “dad, please, don’t you ever leave again without me”. It felt like a bullet coming through my body!. I still feel the same when I talk about it.

In my next posting: BACK TO WORK AND ORDINARY LIFE

SPAIN THE BEAUTIFUL

EL PRADO MUSEUM, ONE OF THE LARGEST
AND RICHEST OF THE WORLD

On my first full day in Madrid I decided to visit the Prado Museum, a jewel of art and history of the Spanish world and European culture. This Museum is renowned as being the largest art gallery in the world. It houses more than 8,600 paintings, of which they exhibit only about 2,000 because of the lack of space. It is said that many important museums throughout the world have less artistic riches in their halls than the Prado Museum has in storage. During the bloody Spanish Civil War (1936-39), many of this works of art were transferred to Geneva, but were returned home after WWII. In this way these treasures of human kind were preserved for the posterity, from the barbarities committed by both sides during the Spanish Civil War.
Among the most famous works of art displayed in this museum are those of Velazquez
(1599-1660), Goya (1746-1848) and El Greco (1541-1614). I was advised by one of the guides to visit these three artists’ galleries, which I did, and doing so took 70% of the time I spent in the museum, which was one full day from 9:00 AM to 6:00PM. I confess not knowing at the time much about paintings and famous painters, but that didn’t prevent me from enjoying every minute of my visit,which has helped me since, in the endless process of learning about art throughout the history of human kind.
On my second day in Madrid, I decided to do what most Madridians do at least four times a year, that is, go watch a bull fight at the "Las Ventas" bull fighting ring, the most famous in the world. Though I was almost a complete neophyte about the so called "art" of bullfighting, I was curious to see a “corrida” or a show of this controversial art, at which the Spaniards have excelle at, and love so much. I was impressed more than anything else by the surroundings, by the holiday spirit of the attendants, by the colorful clothing of the women, by the excitement provoked in the whole audience, by the "pasodoble" music (which I've heard since I was a child) than by the bullfighting itself, which I though was very cruel. I didn’t think of it as a one on one, leveled field fighting between to equals, on the contrary, I thought of it as a completely unfair, bloody and
unjust fight. The bull had everything to lose while the bullfighter had everything to win. In many ways it reminded me about the gladiators’ fights in the Roman Coliseum. I thought it was an absolutely unequal fight of a noble animal against many cruel people bunching up against the animal whose destiny appeared to have been determined much before the fight started. With all due respect to the Spanish culture and customs,which in many ways we inherited here in Latin America, I thought then, as I think today, that the bullfighting is a remainder of barbarous times which should not have a place in a civilized world. I had mixed feelings afterwards, I had satisfied my curiosity, but I did not like much of what I had seen. It reminded me much also of the cockfighting in my home village when I was a child, however, cruel as it also was, it was a one on one fight, where the winner was the bravest or the best trained of the two contestant birds, not a group of intelligent well armed people against one sole animal whose only fault was to have been born a bull instead of a cat.



THE "ESCORIAL", THE PALACE AND MONASTERY, RESIDENCE OF THE SPANISH KINGS FOR SEVERAL CENTURIES

In my third day in Madrid I took a bus tour to what is called the “Valley of the Fallen Ones”. This is a monument built by the Franco autocratic regime to pay homage to those men and women who gave away their lives during the cruelest of all civil wars in the Spanish world’s history, and it is believed that at least a part of the carvings in the solid rock of the hill, were made manually by forced labor from many prisoners taken by the Franco military forces before and after the war was ended. Nearby this monument is the "Escorial", a monumental palace and Monastery complex, located about 25 miles to the northwest of Madrid, in the way to Avila and Segovia, two very interesting historical places I was able to visit the following day. The palace, which for centuries became home of the Spanish Kings, was built by Philip the II, the son of Charles The First of Spain, better known as Charles the Fifth of Germany, and its construction started the day of St Lawrence, on August 10, 1557 and was completed more than twenty years later.

AVILA NEAR MADRID -THE FORTIFIED MEDIEVAL CITY-
A WORLD'S HERITAGE MONUMENT WHICH INSPIRED WALT DISNEY
On my fourth day in Madrid, I went to Avila and Segovia, two towns in the region of Castille and Leon, not very far from Madrid, which are famous for their impressive historical constructions. The town of Avila is famous for its medieval fortifications. The city was founded in the 11th century and to protect itself from its enemies, namely the Moors, they built an impressive wall with 82 towers that continues to enclose the town in such a way that one has the impression of returning to the middle ages when looking at the wall and the towers from the distance. This must have been, indeed, an impenetrable city. Avila continues to preserve its medieval look today and is well-known for its continued-nearly complete- preservation.

Segovia is located in a relatively barren area, contains three UNESCO world heritage sites including the extraordinary Roman aqueduct built nearly 2000 years ago to transport water from a distant river to the city, and which remains structurally intact. Segovia is famous for the “cochinillo” (roasted piglet) served at many of its restaurants. Cochinillo is an open defiance to the “healthy food” concept but, it is nevertheless, munched away by 99% of Segovia visitors, including myself, of course.

SEGOVIA- THE ROMAN AQUEDUCT BUILT 2000 YEARS AGO AND WHICH REMAINS INTACT TODAY

My next visit was to Toledo, the site of the famous Alcazar of Toledo (Castle). It is a small and very old city located about one hour from Madrid, it sits on a large hill and retains its old medieval road plan. Toledo is the capital of the province of the same name and was recently declared a World Heritage Site by the UNESCO.



TOLEDO, ONCE THE CAPITAL OF THE ALMIGHTY SPANISH EMPIRE

It was one of the capitals of the Spanish Empire when at the top of its glory, and is historically of monumental importance because it was a place of peaceful and creative coexistence of Christian, Muslim and Jewish cultures in medieval times. The famous Spanish painter El Greco was born here and a large museum in his honor is part of the places I visited. Sitting on a large hill, "Old Toledo" is encircled on three sides by the Tagus River.

In my next posting: A SAD PART OF SPAIN