This picture pretty much sums up this entire post:
But in case you need more of an explanation, here is some background on this lovely selfie:
I went to my professor’s house for a tertulia, an informal gathering, and met some of the wonderful people in my ILACA program.
A few hours after this lovely picture, some of us met up again to embrace the Spanish way of life. We planned on starting our Friday night at a bar, then heading to a pub, then to a disquoteca and eventually home around 5-7 a.m.
My body had very different ideas.
At the first bar I got sick in the street (after actually not drinking any alcohol). I then went home to spend the weekend in the bathroom and in bed.
Here’s a lovely pic of Calle Obispo (A.K.A. where I threw up on a tree and felt super thankful for having friends who I barely knew, but who held back my hair and gave me napkins and water like professionals).
Traveler’s sickness is as awful as people say it is. At one point I had a fever of 102.6 and my host family was discussing taking me to the hospital. This freaked me out, so in my super coherent state I thought my brain was frying and posted about it on Twitter. Yep.
The food and water in Spain is strong and takes time to get used to.
My mistake was thinking my body was adjusted to the time zone and ready to eat Spanish foods like paella and jamón and drink only Spanish water with all of its amazing minerals (my host family is vehement it’s the best water in the world).
By Sunday morning my fever broke and I began to discover the great horribleness of having multiple Spanish women try to take care of you and argue over what foods/ drinks are best for sick American students.
(They eventually decided on weirdly flavored rice with pieces of some other horrible unnamed food, microwaved apples, Spanish gatorade that makes your teeth sticky and pretty much every other food/drink I now hate with a burning passion).
Lesson learned: When in Spain have fun, but don’t always do as the Spanish do.