When It Rains, It Pours

This evening, I was about to step out of a Barcelona metro station when I noticed that the weather had turned from merely overcast to dumping buckets of rain. With half a dozen others, I scrunched up in the small entrance, eyes fixed on the stairs just outside, hoping this would only be a fifteen minute shower.

Eventually, I just had to make a run for it. Fortunately I was only a block from the hostel, where I was able to grab my umbrella before heading out on a twenty minute search for the local phone shop. Everywhere people were huddled under doorways, while the brave few ran quickly by under their umbrellas. It gave me a good chance to ask - on four different occasions - just where the street for this phone shop was, which I figured was a good opportunity to practice my Spanish. Besides, today is my husband's birthday, and no little rainstorm was going to keep me from making this call. Nor was the fact that I myself am currently under the weather.

Yes, I'm afraid I'm sick; it's not just the jet lag. Despite the fact that I stayed in bed until noon today (which, for me, is absolutely unheard of), my body and brain have been lagging all day, and my throat persists in being sore. It was a relief, after having made my phone call, to sit in a bar eating a zucchini tortilla (that's Spanish for omelet), traditional Barcelonan tomato bread, and drinking hot tea. Sadly, it will be another early night for me, as I'm determined to nip this in the bud. I feel suspiciously like I did when I was sick for more than week earlier this year, and that's an experience I can do without while on tour.

But despite my long stay in bed last night, I can't claim to have slept particularly well. The good news is that I believe Barcelona must have won their football match last night. I was awoken in the middle of the night to sounds of cheering, clapping, and endless honking horns that seemed to go on for an hour. It sure sounded like fun, just not fun for me at that particular time. After things quieted down, I still slept fitfully until the morning traffic picked up and the city came back to life as its noisy self, at which point I lay in bed wondering why I had to be born such a light sleeper.

Due to the weather and my general lack of ambition for anything too active, I chose to visit the Catalan National Museum and the Miro Foundation today, well worth the trip just to see Miro's enormous tapestry of abstract blues, yellows, and reds hanging in the gallery. Tomorrow I will have to be a little more lively, as I've booked a two hour gourmet tour that meets at 10:30. In the meantime, I think my bed is calling me.