I am feeling somewhat better today after a more than three-day-bout with raging dyspepsia. Much Immodium has been employed. Nancy, our travel companion, was first afflicted Monday through Wednesday, slowly returning to ‘normal’ by mid-day Friday. She was able to take the Friday evening sunset cruise we had booked earlier. Not me. My worst was Wednesday through Friday, with some grumbles remaining this morning. But, at least this morning, I feel like I have some control, which I have missed for a few days. Glenda has not been ill, but we didn’t feel it fair to Nancy to send her on the cruise without me to help. Nancy did get some nice photos which she has promised to share. We don’t think the stomach illness was food- or water-borne as Glenda has had pretty much the same diet and water and she hasn’t been ill at all, so probably a ‘stomach flu’ we picked up somehow. I’m SO glad we paid to be 5800 miles from home to be ill for a week.
Despite the horrors being unleased in Israel right now, all seems normal and peaceful in Barcelona. The weather has been dry and sunny, with highs near 80F and lows in the mid-60s (18-26C). The forecast is for rain a few days next week, and the locals are pleased about that, as the region has been in the grips of an historic drought.
View from in front of our temporary morada in the Gothic Quarter
Barcelona is a much different place in the early mornings. I walked out around 7:30am to go to a 24-hour Farmacia for a few essentials. It was as dark as midnight. Sunrise is predicted for a few minutes after 8am and there was no glimmer of dawn visible at 7:30. This is such a change for me from the Phoenix area, where sunrise tomorrow will be around 6:30am and the sky turns dawn pink well before 6:00. The carrer and La Rambla of the Gothic Quarter were no longer crowded in the early morning, but were far from deserted. Few places are open: an occasional early morning cafe’, a small number of establishments still catering to the remnants of last night’s party crowd. Taxis are present, but mostly immobile, their drivers leaning against their cars, smoking. Nearly everyone not in motion is lost in their phone screen. A couple of whores on La Rambla are still trying to make their night’s Euro. One, a very tall and leggy blonde calls out, “Hola” to me. Her voice is deeper than mine. A few Goth trannies stroll by. One, dressed in black leather miniskirt and bikini top with red fish-net nylons, has a beautiful, thick, black beard.
The Farmacia has the body wash and wet wipes I came for. It seems, from the displays there, that the main stock in trade at this hour has been lube and condoms. Viagara is prominently featured, at a shocking Euro120/100mg tablet. I stop at a cafe’ for a morning beverage and decide to try a churro. That was a disappointment—soggy with no hint of sugar or cinnamon. Oh, well—most of the food and drink we have had has been excellent, so far. I think, ‘the gelateria I passed on the way here may have something for my taste buds.’ But, by the time I was back to that location, they were closed until morning opening at 11:00am.
