arch saw me strolling around the streets of Islamabad under an overcast sky; and it was a stroll to remember. Clouds brushed against the picturesque Margalla Hills, creating ideal weather conditions. As a child I used to be good at seeing all sorts of shapes in the sky – animals, cartoon characters and more. So I decided to give it a go while there was once again an opportunity to remember my childhood. Out of nowhere, the name Michelangelo, a renowned Renaissance artist, painter, architect and poet, came to mind as someone born in March as well. The literary works of the Renaissance have long captivated me because of the period’s venerated status in Europe. A few years ago, I was captivated by the same fascination and travelled to Toledo, a city in Spain that may be considered the cradle of the Renaissance.

In March, I found myself in Madrid, Spain, as part of my journey exploring the Muslim presence on the Iberian Peninsula. Like many people, I had once believed that Italy was the birthplace of the Renaissance. Little did I know that my opinion would be change, forever. After a light breakfast at Plaza Mayor in Madrid, I embarked on the journey from Madrid to Toledo via bus. Despite the short duration of the trip – just one hour – my thoughts raced with events that had happened in and around the city some fourteen hundred years ago. The conquest of this city, the capital of the Visigoth Empire, was accomplished by Tariq bin Ziyad, who, after decisively beating King Roderick in the Battle of Guadalete, marched on to knock at the doors of this ancient city – regardless of his master Musa bin Nusair’s explicit orders to remain in Ecija until he personally joined the campaign. The youthful and dynamic Tariq maintained his momentum and conquered other cities, including Toledo. The master was angry, but the youth knew no bounds. As our bus was nearing Toledo, I gazed out of the window, thinking that I might be near the spot where the master (Musa) had snubbed the slave general (Tariq) for his disobedience. This young general endured that admonishment with remarkable patience.

As the bus pulled into the station in Toledo, everyone began to disembark hurriedly, as if they were just as eager as I was to explore the tales and fables scattered throughout the city. The temperature was around 4°C. The city was perched on a hill overlooking the plains of Castilla-La Mancha in central Spain. I walked through the main street to reach a tourist information centre. The lady at the desk was not fluent in English, but I could see that she was enthusiastic about guiding the tourists towards some of the main attractions in the city. Luckily, I found an English brochure with information on top destinations.

I wanted to look for the places that Muslims had built during their reign in the city. There was little information with the lady. She wanted me instead to visit the places with paintings by El Greco, a famous Spanish painter compared to Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo. I knew where I had to go but did not know the address – the palace of the taifa king of the Dhulnunid dynasty, Ibn Almamun (Emir Yahya bin Almamun), who ruled the city from 1043 to 1075. This taifa king had also once helped the famous Christian king Alfonso VI, offering him shelter, not knowing that the same Christian king would eventually take over his kingdom.

With its four towers, the massive Alcázar of Toledo commands attention from across the city. These towers were the focal point of the landscape, their golden peaks gleaming in the sunlight.

I kept walking along the circular road beneath which the River Tagus flows, surrounding the city on three sides. Attacking a city so well-defended by natural features must have been an absolute misery for invading armies. From my vantage point above the valley and the city, I managed to capture a handful of photos. I suddenly realised that I should take a selfie to remember the moment. No one was around, so I decided to snap myself by adjusting the camera on the wall. As I was holding a map of the city taken from the tourist information centre, I placed my camera on the wall with the map underneath, freeing both my hands for a nice pose.

It was like strolling through a museum –as if the entire place had been frozen in time.

I set the camera’s self-timer and rushed to position myself in front of it. The timing was perfect – for something to go wrong – and it did. A gust of wind hit the map, sending both the camera and the map flying through the air before crashing to the ground. My heart stopped for a moment; it was a severe fall, and I had only one camera to capture the rest of my trip across Europe.

I rushed to pick the camera up and found the screen shattered. I feared the worst. “Toledo must be a hard nut to crack,” I immediately thought, recalling the military campaigns. Fortunately, the camera had a viewfinder alongside the LCD screen, and it looked intact. Distressed by the incident, I pressed the shutter button, and it clicked with the typical sound of the shutter. It was a moment of immense relief – the camera seemed to be working fine. I used it for the rest of my European trip, with the broken screen.

Moving on, I reached the famous Toledo Cathedral, which contains the remains of several notable figures, including monarchs and bishops. The cathedral has an Arab past – it was built on the site where a mosque had once stood. I could still see Moorish arches and columns within the church. I continued walking through the stone-layered streets of this ancient city, which remained the capital of Spain from 1519 to 1561.

Eventually, I arrived at a building with a signboard bearing the name Mezquita del Cristo de la Luz (Bab al-Mardum) – a pleasant sign. Nevertheless, a fence encircled the entrance, which was locked. What remained of the mosque after centuries of renovations featured distinctive horseshoe arches like those in the Mosque of Córdoba. This beautiful brick building had now been converted into a Catholic chapel. I felt a deep sorrow settle in my heart.

As I moved further downtown, the winding road offered a scenic view of the city’s diverse surroundings. Many shops displayed swords, knives, arrows and mediaeval armour, reflecting Toledo’s continued admiration for its history of conflict and conquest. I strolled through the streets, which must surely have borne witness to countless remarkable events.

Perhaps I was walking along the very spot where, in 1078, a legendary chess duel took place. Alfonso VI had come to conquer the city. Muttamid ruled Toledo at the time, and the city was on the verge of falling to the well-prepared Christian king. As an avid chess player, Alfonso agreed to play a game of chess with anyone from the besieged city. If he lost, he vowed to grant a wish. Ibn Ammar, a talented vizier and expert chess player, accepted the challenge and defeated the king. The city was spared, at least for a while. In 1085, when Alfonso returned and took Toledo once and for all.

The walk through the city was like strolling through a museum. It was as if the entire place had frozen in time. Alfonso VI also established a House of Translation, where Arabic books were translated into Spanish and then into Latin. The works of Averroes (Ibn Rushd) and other scholars were rendered into Latin by these translators, including Michael Scot, a renowned Scottish mathematician and scholar of the Middle Ages. These books eventually reached other parts of Europe and helped spark a movement that would come to be known as the Renaissance.

I found myself wandering through a city once inhabited by great minds like Ibn Hazm, Maslama al-Majriti, and Ibn Bagunis. Many historians have noted that it was firmly believed that Toledo had to be captured in order to complete the conquest of Spain. Numerous buildings bore the hallmarks of classic Moorish architecture, and I found myself lost in thoughts of the city’s heydays.

I wanted to leave before sunset, as I didn’t think I could stomach spending the night in a place so steeped in melancholy. Madrid was my bus stop. From there I was due to catch a plane to Gaudí’s hometown —Barcelona.

The writer teaches engineering management at the National University of Science and Technology. He can be reached at yasir299@gmail.com