USA, Toledo?

Suzanne looked at me with brown eyes wide open, “You’re going to Toledo? That’s wonderful! You’ve spent so much time traveling to obscure backwaters. It’s about time they sent you abroad. I didn’t know that your software had a Spanish version.”

“It doesn’t but all the people I have been working with seem to speak pretty good English so I guess that it wont be a problem.”

Suzanne cocked her head to the side as if a question had fluttered through her brain but departed before it could take root. “Well I’m happy for you even if I don’t get to go with. You had better make sure to bring some sunscreen for the beach and a good book for the plane. I’ll see if I can find your passport…it should be around here somewhere.” I have always admired Suzanne’s ability to organize and categorize a task. Yet, despite her professional competence and best efforts my journey to Toledo provided more surprises than assurances.

In retrospect I should have known that my trip was destined to be more peculiar than routine. From the outset small details failed to meet my most mundane expectations. At the airport I proceeded to the international check-in desk and was informed, “I’m sorry sir, this in the international desk. You should check in at the other counter.” Momentarily perplexed I reexamined my tickets. Yes, I had bought a ticket to Toledo. Then the answer leaped out at me. Of course I should be using the domestic check in. The first leg of my flight was to Philadelphia. Only after that would I connect to Toledo. I tried to remind myself that I am in fact an experienced traveler. Though I succeeded in this I still felt a bit of relief that I was traveling alone with no one present to mock my mistake.

The first leg of my journey proceeded in perfect pattern with my expectations. It was only on the second leg, my flight from Philadelphia to Toledo, that my preconceptions received a rattling. I had anticipated a monstrous jet for the journey across the North Pole. Instead a turbo prop and ten other passengers greeted me at the gate. Yet despite this plane’s unassuming size and its absence of jet engines it flew with the speed and grace worthy of praise. A mere hour after rising to the clouds we again dropped through and landed in Europe.

It was heartening to see that relations between Spain and the US are so cordial. Though I had brought my passport the official at the airport only smiled and waved me through.

I should point at that I have the utmost respect and admiration for both the people of Spain and the residents of Toledo yet I am saddened to say that their city did not live up to my expectations.

Instead of sunny weather I was greeted with a persistent dank cold and mindless snow flurries. I was saddened to see that cultural imperialism has completely enveloped this land. I struggled to hear the romantic rhythm of Spanish. Only the hotel maid responded to my ‘Hola’ with a smile. My fellow guests and the concierge turned their heads as if they might catch some disease.

I am not sure what I expected of Spanish cuisine but greasy burgers, soft fries and watery beer were not on my list. Perhaps the only time I have experienced worse food was during my journey to Mississippi. In the end I stopped dining at the quiet little restaurants tucked away in dark allies and corners. Instead I retreated to the comfort of my hotel bar; at least here I felt safe even if the food was no better.

I saw neither cathedrals nor quaint allies. Instead rusted trains rolled by abandoned buildings. Crumbling cars competed with potholes and brown ice for room on the streets.

My final verdict on Toledo is that it lacked anything profound or even interesting. It may be the case that my own anticipation prevented me from seeing the beauty and charm of this city but even if this is the case I feel no desire to return. Instead Suzanne and I have planned a trip to Burma where I feel certain that life will be anything but mundane.