Friends of mine, American expatriates, and I would drive here often on Sunday afternoons.  At the time, the castle was just an outer shell with two interior courtyards divided into upper and lower floors open to the elements.  One detail I remember quite well is that an old woman from the village had taken it upon herself to put a lock on the construction workers' gate.  For a few pesetas she'd open it and let you inside, telling you a little about the castle's history.

My graduate advisor, the poet Arturo Serrano Plaja, came from El Escorial, not far from here.  I'll always remember his fascination with all the different countries my ancestors had come from... almost as amazed as I was in my attempt to comprehend that all of his had come not just from one country but from a single town.