Wine Tasting

We went to a winery for my Cultura Vitivinicola class. It was my first time inside an actual wine making place, seeing the machines and grape washers and crushers. There was a barrel room about 100 square metres, with row upon row of barrels of wine stacked on top of each other. The grape washing room reeked of alcohol which even I could smell through my blocked nose. Apparently the cleaner the grapes the better tasting the wine. I always thought dirt was supposed to add flavour to wine. In the barrel room, one guy was changing the wine from one barrel to another- they do that every six months and each wine can get changed up to four times- and checking the colour of the wine with a candle. It was so fascinating. Felt sorry for the guy though, if he had to swap all the wines around in that room every six months. I think working at a winery could cure you of alcoholism. The picture on the top is of the wine being bottled, which I took illegally. It's a strangely hypnotic process, watching the corks whizzing through the chute, then popping onto the bottles and the bottles gliding out in a uniform line, zigzagging across the room to the finish line.

We got to taste wine at the end too, a white and two reds, one young and one older which had a lovely dark colour. Unfortunately, since I was sick I couldn't smell or taste anything and they all tasted the same to me- like nothing, but with a sour aftertaste. Such a waste. I don't think I was even supposed to drink at all because I'm on antibiotics. The older red was supposed to have been really good though.

Afterwards, we had lunch back at uni with the rest of the class. It was party day at uni, with the Engineering students holding a massive party on the front lawn of the Engineering building to raise money for something (not a charity or anything, something like their end of year trip). Absolutely packed full of people, beer bottles and empty chip bags and plastic bags and wrappers everywhere. There was even music going on, and someone had brought a couch from home which she and her friends were reclining on in the middle of the footpath. Very interesting but when I walked past there after the party had ended, it was absolutely foul. The ground was sticky from all the spilt drinks, the lawn was just covered in rubbish so you could barely see any grass and there were people slumped everywhere.

Bargain Books

When I was in Barcelona, I picked up three books- a cookbook in Spanish for 1,90 Euros with recipes I want to eat but suspect I'll never be bothered trying to make, a book called The Cat Who Talked Turkey for the bargain price of 3 Euros, and a book called La Vida Sexual de Catherine M. This last one I got because it's my name, and Allen told me it's supposed to be a really good book. However, I'm glad I got it in Spanish and not English because so far it's proved to be slightly graphic but a lot of it I don't understand. I'm also learning a lot of words I don't think will come in handy in everyday conversation. It's interesting though, because even though it was only published a few years ago, I think the author's writing about women's liberation a few decades ago. Sort of like reading The Female Eunuch and seeing what's changed and what hasn't. Next time I buy a book in Spanish I'm going to buy a children's one so I can actually understand what's happening. The bookstore also sold Th Chronicles of Narnia in Spanish but it was beyond my budget.

I finished reading Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro in Barcelona. Definitely worth the 10 Euros I paid for it. It was shortlisted for the Booker Prize. The Booker Prize is a bit of a hit and miss, I think personally but this one was good, and Ishiguro is more or less a trustworthy author. The choice of English books in Logrono is very limited- I had a selection consisting of classics for around four times the price you'd pay in Australia, Danielle Steele and other romance/potboilers/pulp fiction. Perhaps I should join the local library. Not being able to read is stressing me out, especially when I'm sick and can't leave my house and I have nothing else to do. If I get incredibly desperate I might have to borrow Paulina Simmons from Emily. (Please, someone shoot me first).

Disease Phase Two

For some reason I looked very stunned in the picture. Hahaha haha hahaha. This was before I became very ill (note the mirthless laugh). Last night, Emily, Mel, Breda, Louis, Laure, Javier and Fernando took me out for my birthday. Cayley was sick so she stayed home and slept. We went to a crepe place in Logrono, which was absolutely delectable. I plan to take my mum and Allen there when they come, although it's French and not really Spanish. I did very well- I managed to eat a whole savoury crepe by myself and then most of the banana and caramel one. It felt wonderful to gorge after not eating for so long. Afterwards, we went to a salsa bar called Tropicana (I think) but this was when I started feeling really shivery and unwell.

When I got home, I jumped into bed with my hot water bottle and heat pack, but I was still freezing. My temperature was 39.2, and I felt like dying. I think being sick away from home is the worst feeling in the world. In the morning, my temperature was still the same, so Javier went in to the uni to ask about what doctor I should see. Apparently in Spain everyone is assigned a doctor. However, since I'm not a citizen, the public hospital turned me away, so we went looking for a private one. Javier found one relatively close to me and made an appointment for me, but when we got there it turned out to be a clinic for 'obesidad'. It was the funniest consultation I've ever had. The doctor seemed very unsure of himself, and wrote me two scripts, one for today, and one for two days later, in case the first lot of medication didn't do me any good. He never actually said what was wrong with me, although he did listen to my chest while I breathed and looked like he was pondering. Javier was so apologetic for taking me there but I didn't mind too much- it was about on par with the 24 hour Medical Centre at home (which incidentally is a misnomer because it's not open 24 hours) and at least I didn't have to wait 2 hours to see someone. Plus at least he didn't look at me and say 'Yes, yes, I see you have a problem with obesity.'

The consultation cost 20 Euros, which is really cheap compared to Australia, and I got some antibiotics which I can take. I started coughing up blood which really unnerved me but my dad said it was probably just from too much stress on my throat. He thinks you can tell a lot about a person's disease by the colour of his/her phlegm. I think the antibiotics are working- my throat doesn't hurt as much, although my obliques are like rocks from coughing too much. I guess that means I don't have to do situps for a while.

Disease!

I'm deathly ill. I took my temperature and it was around 38.8, which I thought couldn't be right. I assumed it was because I'd just got out of bed, and was nice and toasty, so I waited around 5 minutes to take it again and it was almost the same. So I took some foul medicine the lady at the Farmacia gave me, which has paracetamol and something else in it, waited around 20 minutes and my temperature had dropped to 38.2. My dad thinks I potentially have pneumonia.

I made myself some boiled lemon and honey water, but it just didn't taste the same as the one my mum makes. Mine was gross and greasy and bitter. Perhaps I cut my lemons the wrong way.

My flatmate is so funny. We went to an international students party on Saturday night, and she kept making people take photos over and over again because she claimed she looked fat in most of them. Actually, it got a bit tedious, but then the whole party was tedious and I wasn't drinking because I didn't feel like it. I got cornered by the dullest guy I've ever talked to in my life.

My throat really hurts. It feels like someone's been scraping away at it with a rusty nail. I like how you can go to the pharmacy here, tell them your symptoms and they sell you something to make them go away, instead of having to visit a doctor and get a prescription. I don't think I can afford to visit the doctor here; actually I don't think I've even seen one. I've seen beauty parlours and dental clinics but no doctors or medical centres.

The pitter-patter of little feet

There are swans in Logrono! Twelve to be exact. I bet each one used to be a princess.

I lie. We spotted only three, one of whom looked constipated.

Had a horrible day. Well, actually it wasn't too bad. I'm just agitated. The first thing I did this morning was go into the uni to speak to the International Studies organiser/officer/head of department about my lost documents. But fancy- she wasn't in, and doesn't plan to be back from Brazil till the 20th of March. And then I was going to go to the police station with Javier because I suspected the police might not speak English, and fancy- he's out of town for the weekend. How dare these people take holidays when I need them? So I spent an arduous hour at the police station trying to describe everything in my bag. One of the police said my Spanish was very good though. Ha!

The pitter-patter of little feet was heard all throughout Logrono today as I dashed about madly trying to get everything done and organised. Very exhausted, but too stressed to sleep.

Bah to Barcelona

I'm extremely ambivalent towards Barcelona at the moment. On the one hand, it's got all this culture and beauty, and on the other, it's full of sleazy guys, crowded streets and thieves. I got my bag stolen about 5 minutes before my bus departure time. I was really sick on my birthday, so I didn't get to do much, just lay in bed, and yesterday, I was still throwing up, and not able to eat or walk around much. Right before the bus left, I needed to throw up, so I told Melissa that I was going to the bathroom, left my stuff with her and ran off. When I came back, I sat down and realised my poor little leathery bag had gone. Melissa said she'd been reading and hadn't seen a thing, but that it was possible that someone had passed by and stolen it. At first I thought I must have left it in the bathroom, but I remember catching sight of myself as I walked in, thinking I looked kind of skeletal from not eating and being sick, and I didn't have a bag then. I went and checked though, and it was truly gone.

My passport, my wallet with my driver's license and student cards, my new camera and new glasses were all in there. And my mobile. With all the cute photos of Gryffin. And our bus tickets

I started bawling, because I was so tired and nauseous, and my head was spinning, and this was more than I could handle. But I got over it about 20 minutes later. Luckily our bus was delayed by half an hour, so we talked to the lady who worked there and she said it would be fine for us to still catch the bus. However, the bus driver wouldn't let us on without a ticket, and even though we told him the lady would be coming to explain the situation in a few minutes, he shut the doors and was about to reverse the bus. I got so angry then. I grabbed my stuff and stood behind the bus, refusing to let him leave without me on it. Finally someone came to explain and he let us on. He was mean though. A cranky unsympathetic bastard.

Barcelona is full of people who'll take advantage of you if you're not careful. Melissa kept getting accosted by sleazy guys because she was always so nice and friendly, and would smile and keep talking to them even though they were absolutely foul. I've decided it's safer just not to make eye contact with people, and if you have to, pick your nose and eat it while you're looking at them. There was one nice guy though, at the hostel we stayed at. He was an elderly Irishman, and when he saw I was sick, he gave me his natural herbal remedy to drink that was supposed to settle the stomach. Later he also bought me soy yoghurt and an energy bar to keep my energy levels up. I don't know how he knew I only drank soy. He said it helps that little bit more if you know someone cares. It was so sweet of him.

Saw the Sagrada Familia, el Poble Espanyol and the Museu Picasso amongst other things. Also went up the mountain to the Castell and caught a cable car down. It was pretty fun, but my memory of Barcelona will always be tainted with my memories of the last two days. I wish I'd been travelling with Allen. He's laidback enough not to care if we don't have a set itinerary but he's sensible enough to make sure everything's going all right. And he's fun. Plus I always miss him when I'm sick

Barcelona

Melissa and I bought tickets to Barcelona today. We're catching the 2am bus so we'll get there and have all of Saturday to find a hostel and rest a bit, and still have time to look around. I'll be spending my birthday there! Can't wait. There's a wine festival or something there, which is why we're going. Emily and Breda were going to come as well, but they weren't happy with the idea of just turning up and hoping we could find some place to stay. So they've gone to Bilbao today, and are coming back tonight and going to Breda's friend's pueblo on Saturday.

Last Sunday, Melissa and I went to a cafe and had our first paella in Spain. I've got before and after shots of it. Yesterday I went to my first authentic wine tasting event. A lot of pompous farts (like the old man who told me I wasn't holding my glass properly) and a lot of alcoholic uni students. We paid 6 Euros for the glass, had as much as we wanted to drink, and got to keep it too. A photographer took a photo of me and a winemaker- probably because I was the only Asian person in the place. Some of the wines were pretty good, but I tried one that hadn't been finished which was disgusting. My Cultura Vitivinicola tutor was there- I hope he didn't remember that I wasn't in class. I had to go to the bank, because I wasn't sure whether we were going to Barcelona on Friday or Saturday.