27-28th Jan: Soup days

27th:
Did so little that I cannot even dredge up the memories. Feeling very tired, what little food I feel like eating seems to pass straight through without being digested.

Went to the supermarket at one point and bought some packet soup. With double the recommended amount of water and some fried bread (so good - I was craving toast) it was a nice sick person's meal.

Finally managed to track down the Americans I'd met in Valencia and went to an 'Irish' (it was blatantly not Irish) bar where they were drinking one euro Budweisers. It was great to catch up, but I was feeling very tired and left at nine pm.

28th:
Woke up at 6am with leg cramps - danger sign showing insufficient levels of electrolytes in the blood. Spend a lot of time on the loo and wish it would be over already. I hate being sick! At least I'm avoiding the post tour bulge that apparently inflicts most tourists whose appetites are still set on 100km per day.

Went out for a run and it felt great. My legs had some pop in them for the first time in weeks. The sun was shining and it was such a great day for it that I went for a little bike ride next to the river. Strangely, the bike was riding perfectly with no shifting difficulties at all. Perhaps it just needed a break too.

Walked down to the Plaza de Aragon to meet the Americans at two. I had a longing for churros and stopped at a cafe for a coffee. That's what I asked for anyway, and after repeating my order in English, the waiter brought me a (non vegan) hot chocolate and churros. Horribly overpriced (4.50!) and the worst churros I've ever had (I should have walked out the instant I saw them sweating in a bain marie, obviously having been cooked hours before). The falafel kebab I ate afterwards with Uly(sses) and two of his friends was much better, I should have just waited. They all had places to go (tennis lessons, hookah left behind at school haha), so I just walked around for a while, stopping to pull out the laptop and read for a while on a park bench.

Had soup again for dinner and then against my better judgement, went out to the same bar again at eight pm. All the American kids were there celebrating the start of their eleven day holiday (it's ridiculous how much time off they get!) and I was plunged into a violently churning sea of drunk teenagers, struggling to stay afloat amidst the fifty empty bottles of beer that lay on the table before making it breathlessly to the pier, where I sat watching the spectacle disinterestedly (how boring drunken conversations are when you're not in the same state) peeling the labels off the bottles and then slinking off almost almost without saying goodbye.

I should've just stayed home and read.