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The solo weekend in Madrid in April 2005 was very illustrative of my experience in traveling while ill. It was my first in Spain. In retrospect it is certainly not my favorite city. But if I went back twice, it didn’t suck for me either, quite the contrary!
It was an impromptu getaway in a busy year. I had a few days around Easter. Later it would become a habit to fill calendar gaps with a little trip, but that was the first time.
The first time in Madrid
Relaxing, I became ill. Nothing serious, but I had a slight fever and a lot of sluggishness the whole time. I still managed to see the essentials, including the
It was a worthwhile trip to discover passions that I later deepened, including my favorite painter(Francisco Goya) and a type of evening that I love: going from place to place eating tapas! Of the Spanish painter in particular I appreciate the darker works, for those who think they are unfamiliar, here they are.
It may be because I have done a lot of traveling, but I have been sick several times, and in Spain, both in Madrid and Barcelona.
At that time I almost always slept in hostels, but fortunately I had booked a single. It was crucial because contrary to my usual practice, I spent enough time in bed there to recharge.
Even while out and about I took several breaks, but I discovered the pleasure of watching the comings and goings of people becomes a hoot under certain circumstances. I was on a bench in the small gardens in front of the royal palace. I noticed two boys snickering as they alternated between looking at their watches and at the people lying on the lawn. They seemed to be waiting for something funny. At one point the automatic watering started. Those lying down were drenched, got up and started running everywhere. The boys were bent over by that scene that I guessed was repeated daily at the same time.
Traveling as a sick person with sadness
Because this blog started with the idea of being super true and sincere, I also want to tell about what it is like to travel when sick and especially when sad.
I know of a friend who taking a trip after ending a story, in the company of her friend cried every night, and it was good for her. In the 3 days in
In August 2012, I chose a Spanish city specifically to look for cheerful situations but it all turned out to be quite vain. The city offers so much to see, both in the center and in the seaside district where there is also a very long beach as well as the very interesting oceanographic park. But in between distractions I was always thinking about my belle of whom I hadn’t heard from in weeks, not really knowing why and for whom I had been feeling terrible.
Any excuse was good to make me think of her, one afternoon while walking, I came across a florist who had just the flowers named after her in the window (not the other way around, eh). The store next door was probably the lastinternet point I entered in my life, of course I saw it as a sign of destiny. I set out to find news about her, who had also unsubscribed from Facebook, found some and continued with my delusions.
In conclusion, traveling when you are sad is better than nothing
You always see what you want; it’s like car commercials. I generally find them terrible and my brain refuses to pay attention to them, but if you have to or have recently changed your car, you notice them all. It’s called selective attention.
If you travel serenely and with a clear mind, you notice more of the beauty of the world around you. However, one sign that I was on the road to recovery was that I at least really enjoyed tapas and various eats. Perhaps right there I began to regain weight since at the height of my crisis, I had lost 16 kg in a few months of fasting and insomnia. So in these cases it is important to go where food and alcohol are appreciable.
Home set of travel Travel in Spain, and go to Barcelona
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