One thing I'll never understand is how getting sick works. I mean, one minute I can be totally fine, and the next I'm sick. Maybe other people - normal people - get sick gradually. Like, "ooh my muscles hurt, must be getting sick!" Not me. You might also think that the changing weather might have affected my health. After all, we had two weeks of beautiful sunny beach weather followed by a three-day monsoon and a week of something in between. But no, I felt fine throughout. So it must be my lifestyle... not enough sleep, etc. So then why do I get sick at the end of the most relaxing, quiet, well-behaved, indeed CULTURAL, weekends I've had in ages???
Let me back up a bit. On Thursday night I went for dinner at Bar Mundial (amazing seafood) with some work colleagues to say farewell to our intern Thomas, who has now headed back to Paris. Rather than staying out very late after dinner, I was very well-behaved and went home to bed afterward. Friday I had a meeting in the morning with some folks from the Superleague Formula and then headed off to work before a late lunch with Paul at Cerveceria Catalana. (In the past few weeks, due to so many people being in town, I've eaten enough tapas to last my entire life.) And then, Friday night, Frenchy and I did absolutely nothing. Which was kind of cool!
Saturday morning the weather was still bad, but by the afternoon it had cleared up enough to take a walk through the Barrio Gotico in the attempt to find a dress for a wedding in Paris this coming weekend. Emphasis on attempt. No such dress, but we did find... tapas! And really tall people.
This one bumped into me and said, "Ay!" I'm not joking.
Then Frenchy dropped his ice cream. Sadness to end all sadness...
Saturday was also "La Nit dels Museus," or Museum Night. A dozen or so major Barcelona museums were open - and free to enter - from 7pm to 1am. After a little rest, Frenchy and I headed down to MACBA, which neither of us had ever visited. It's one of those things you do on a rainy day... and there aren't many of those in Barcelona. (Last weekend, during the torrential downpour that was Saturday, we went to the Museu Maritim - very cool.) After an hour in MACBA, we headed next door to the CCCB (Centre de Cultura Contemporania de Barcelona) and then on to the Photography Museum. We had planned to stop off at La Pedrera on the way home, since it's just behind my apartment building, but the line was still around the block even at midnight, so we called it a night.
Our wet feet at MACBA.
Building stick towers at the CCCB
Sunday morning the sun was actually out, so we went for a run, then chilled out on the terrace in the sunshine reading trashy Spanish magazines (me) and trashy books written by English people living in France (Frenchy) and then headed down to the Aquarium on our bicycles. And it was only upon leaving, around 5pm, that I noticed my throat was hurting. After MORE tapas at Ciudad Condal, it was really hurting and my ears were blocked. By bedtime, I had a full-blown head cold.
So either I'm allergic to tapas and my allergy is only showing symptoms now, in my third year of living in Barcelona, or I'm allergic to culture and healthy living. I think it's the second one. Clearly, I spent too much time learning and seeing things this weekend and not enough time consuming alcohol. Maybe I should do the MBA again...
Or maybe I shouldn't act like a 5 year old and play on giant sea turtle statues that loads of snotty-nosed, probably-sick 5 year olds have climbed around on. Silly me.