Pity and Paella
So I’ve been sick. Piteously, moan in my bed sick. No one would know it, because I like to go out and hike mountains and drink sangria anyway, but I am. There’s a night trip to a hot springs tonight, from the hostel, and I am willing myself not to go. It gets chilly at night here, and the last thing that makes sense is to go out late swimming and drinking in the chilly air. It sounds amazing though.
I started feeling terrible a few nights ago, but biked from 9 until 3 the next day anyway— 47 miles up through the mountains. I was more exhausted than usual but chalked it up to not eating properly, and made a trip to the grocery for a lot of greens and guacamole. That night, I had a fever, and my throat felt like it was closing. I rolled around in my sleeping bag all night, like a small rodent trapped in a burlap sack.
*Aside. I get sick very, very rarely. So to not only get sick, but extremely sick, within the span of a few hours— it was very unfortunate on a lot of levels.
Luckily, tonight is paella night at the hostel. I was debating heading to Almeria today, and camping on the beach. The beaches there are supposed to be beautiful, but also a bit chilly at night, so I was going to contemplate what to do over breakfast. As I walked into the kitchen, a big sign for ‘paella’ dominated the doorway. And I signed up. One more night in Granada— I’m going to spend the day finding medicine for this cold, and gearing up for some biking and camping tomorrow. Paella will be a good send off.
Valencia by March 10th! (My birthday!)