Disappointment

My latest visit to Vitoria has been a complete failure. It's dived into the sadness, so close to the dramatic and grotesque. I've spent 4 shitty days in which only good things happened thanks to the company of my family, specially the youngest members of it, my nephews and niece. But as for the rest, it would have been better to remain at home, in Frankfurt (yes, "home" is Frankfurt now, definitely). I took the flight on Wednesday already sick, quite sick, with fever, headache, throat infection and (surprise surprise!) an ear infection that I discovered when I started to feel that my left ear was going to blow as soon as we started preparing to descent for landing. The only positive thing is that it took only 20 to 25 minutes. I was feeling so bad that I went straight to the doctor at the airport while my poor sister was waiting outside in the car wondering where I was if the flight was already landed and I had no baggage to check-in.

That very same afternoon I couldn't speak, eat, not even sleep. Perfect. Right what I never do when I go to Spain, you know? I couldn't go out to the street for a walk and see MY city, nor watch TV and of course was not able to meet any friend. I was like that until Saturday afternoon, when at least I went out a bit. I can't complain about the sunny and warm weather I had, perfect to walk on the old medieval town, where the monthly market was taking place (and I am so much into street-markets). I could attend the birthday party of my nephew in the evening, the main purpose of the journey. And on Sunday afternoon it was time to come back the Frankfurt after such a frustrating mini-vacation. On Saturday, by the way, it was the fifth anniversary since I left Vitoria without knowing that I would not go back. But that's another story; almost another life already.