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So there I was, about 2/3 through a tapas tour, when I started to feel a bit woozy. Then when we got to our final bar my stomach started cramping and I was decidedly not okay. But I soldiered on and, luckily, my group had been up since 3am to catch their flight to Sevilla, so they didn’t linger after finishing their desserts. I walked them most of the way back to their hotel as it was on my way home, feeling worse and worse with each step, but still managing to be chatty. But as soon as I got home… WHAM.

Thus started a long night of violent vomiting, diarhhea, fever, sweating and shivering. This morning I felt totally wrung out and only managed to sit up for a couple of hours before heading back to bed. Finally woke up again around 5.00 thinking I needed to eat something, and for some reason that something had to be boiled potatoes. But even that simple meal rushed right through me and now I need to lie down again. Everything is aching… my eyes, my fingers.

Sad to have missed a lovely day planned with Kalé and her mother, who just got into town, which was going to include a horse carriage ride and lunch. But somehow I don’t think I’ll be eating out again for awhile.