Hola!

Well I'm back, and finally feeling slightly human again, more on that later.
I went to Barcelona on Friday, my first time out of the UK in about 18 years. I was excited to begin my new explorations of the planet, taking it fairly easy with a long weekend trip (though I would have actually preferred a whole week). We flew from London City Airport and there were no hassles at all, the worst part being having to take my shoes of at the security check. The flight was about 2/3rds full and I was initially sat next to a young Spanish mum with her baby on her lap. Once the meals were done, a nice little English breakfast, we moved to some seats near the back and so had 2 seats each. The other two (Richard and Terry M, by the way) slept for most of the flight (a prelude of things to come).
We had a little walk around once we had dumped our suitcases, while they cleaned the apartment, which was much bigger than we imagined, but only had two double rooms (also the only bedrooms with windows). I got the second best double, no view, but all I needed was natural light, not a view. The bathroom and kitchen were both bigger than I have at home at the moment! It is in (what I feel to be) a typical Spanish building with empty vaults in the middle and a cranky old lift with two sets of manually operated doors.
We saw La Rambla, which was quite pretty (and would have been more so if the people would hadn't been there). We walked down near to the harbour, but were tired so got the Metro back home (my first time on a foreign underground system). When we got back to the apartment I unpacked while the other two slept.
We did go out at about 21:00 and had something to eat, I had rabbit for only the second time in my life. Most of the bars and clubs don't get going until 23:00 (about the time most of my friends go home!!), so we started in the first open one we found: People. If you know it please don't laugh.
It was quiet, but there were a few people in there. They were all over 50, except for two guys who turned out to be a prostitute and his pimp. We stayed anyway as they were playing show tunes (yes, I admit I am a queen who likes show tunes), the fact that they had Strongbow (cider) on the menu helped too. We all started off with cocktails though, so Richard and I had Cosmopolitans (another first for me) and Terry had a Black Russian. We had two more drinks each before leaving to check out other venues.
Nightberry was the next bar, because it is virtually across the road. It was okay, a bit narrow where the bar was, but it had a dark room. After a couple in there we went on to Bacon Bear Bar, which was unremarkable. then went to Museum, which looked good, but was packed. Then we went on to a club called Metro, which was also good. After this, for some strange reason, we all went to a sauna, just around the corner from our apartment, called Casanova.
I got home at about 4:45 and was up again at about 12:30, feeling like I'd missed half the day. The other two slept for a few more hours, despite getting home before me. We eventually got out and had "lunch" at one of the many crossroad cafes, they then went home again to sleep. I was beginning to wonder why they go abroad if all they wanted to do was sleep!
That evening we went to Heart Burger, because it was advertised in the local gay mag. We were not that impressed, it was only okay. We then went on to People again, and were welcomed back. Terry said that he was only going to have one, because he was feeling rough from the night before (despite having beer for "breakfast" that afternoon and with both meals). We ended up staying there for hours, which would have been fine, but Terry got completely drunk (because he was drinking only Black Russians, some of them made without the coke), and Richard was talking to an Australian guy that he had no intention of introducing to anyone, at one point Richard had gone to the toilet and the guy talked to me, when Richard came back he stood between us with his back to me and carried on his conversation. I suggested to him that we should take Terry home, as, by this point, he was walking up to strangers and just staring at them inanely, when he could stand up without the aid of a chair. Richard didn't want to know and I couldn't get any sense out of Terry at all, so I got annoyed and left. Stupidly, I didn't get a key off of either of them (we only had 2 between us). I went into Nightberry, but they were closing and I didn't have a map of the larger area to get back to Metro, so I went to the sauna again, though had no fun. I had to wait ages for one of them to let me in. I found out that Terry had fallen over in the street and Richard had to engage the help of the gorgeous (porn-star-looking) doorman, a barman and the Australian to get him home. Should've listened to me, eh?
On Sunday I woke in the morning, unlike the others and went for a walk. I didn't take a map, but thought I had a plan. I intended to walk along one road until I got bored and then walk back down the next block. I obviously wasn't paying attention and didn't turn around when I thought I did. I was knackered by the time I figured out how to get back. Oops. They were still asleep.
Richard and I had a small lunch at a place called Lido, we settled for the bacon, eggs and toast, Terry was still asleep (but breathing). We then went for a walk and managed to walk in a big circle taking in La Ramblas again, then walking to Sagrada Familia, and the Casa Mila before heading home. Terry was still asleep but rose from his pit soon after, sporting a few cuts and bruises.
All three of us went back to Lido that evening as we had seen that they do paella and tapas and we thought we should have something Spanish to eat before leaving. Terry ordered the paella and a steak, which we thought would be too much for him. Richard and I each had paella and some tapas, which we thought would be small portions, we obviously hadn't learned our lesson from the drink measures. The food was all really nice, and we didn't want to waste any, so I ate as much as I could. BIG mistake. By the time we left I was feeling very uncomfortable, i could barely walk. It was like a huge force was pressing against my diaphragm. I thought it would pass after a few burps, maybe a couple of farts or at worst a sit down in the smallest room of the first place we got to. Terry did the sensible thing and went back to the apartment. Richard and I went to People.
It was packed, as they have happy hour most of the evening, buy one get one free. I was struggling after my first, and couldn't even finish my second. We came back to the apartment and I managed to pack before quickly going to bed, hoping (assuming) I would feel okay in the morning.
I wasn't. I was still bloated. We had to wait around for a couple of hours for the woman to get back for us to give her the keys and get our deposit back and then headed off to the airport. The journey back wasn't as nice as the first, made worse by the way I was feeling: bigger plane, awkward people, surrounded by kids and flying to Heathrow not City Airport. I then had to endure the London underground for about an hour to get home.
When I got in I wrapped myself in comfort clothing jumped into bed and pulled my duvet and blanket over me hoping to sweat out whatever I had. By this time I was still feeling bloated, was also feeling hot to the touch but shivering, had a raging headache, felt dizzy and had blurred vision. The next day is a bit of a blur, but it was hellish. I developed diarrhea and just felt like I had the worst hangover ever, which just isn't fair when you've drunk hardly anything. I remember seeing my flatmates, but they were obviously not concerned enough to check on me. I also remember laying naked in the (empty) bath, crying and wishing that someone was there to take care of me. I felt like crap. I don't remember ever feeling that bad.
I've gradually got better though I had to take tonight off as, in my job, I cannot just go to the toilet when I need to (and I still need to at least once an hour), which means this holiday is going to cost me even more money (remember, I don't get sick pay). But even though I still feel like crap, I am glad that I went.
If you managed to read all of that crap, I congratulate you, as even I got bored, but had to put it down in "print" before I forget. I'll keep you informed how I feel.