I'm Home...*le sigh*

Okay, I got sick which is why I didn't write anymore, not even off-line. Now I'm home. Bah. That's all I have to say to that...Bah.

Let me try to write something about the last 3 days in Europe.

We made it to the Vatican tour on day 11. There's nothing I can say more than 'wow' and enthusiastically too. I was speechless for most of the trip and aside from snapping picture after picture of anything and everything, I walked through it in a bit of a daze. The Sistine Chapel was beyond anything that I could have comprehended seeing in person but that was expected. What I didn't expect was the Vatican Museum in general. One more certainly has to go there to understand fully what I mean. It is said that if one spends 60 second standing in front of each picture in the museums, it would take you 12 years to get through it all. You can imagine what we couldn't see due to time restraints. What we did see left us speechless, both of us.

We did go down to the Papal crypts where we did see Pope John Paul II's grave. There were tons of people worshiping to him so we hustled past and like the Sistine Chapel we were not allowed to take pictures, which was okay with me since it seems sacrilege to take pictures of graves.

After, practically limping from the 4 hours of touring we had done of the Vatican, P and I boarded the tourist bus and went to our next destination, the Church of Santa Maria Maggiore. I had read about this church in Dan Brown's Angel's and Demon's. I was excited to see the picture of the Blessed Virgin and the Christ Child but the tour guide had told us that the relics of the Cradle of Christ was in the church. I didn't believe it until I saw. Again, breathless wonderment.

The Colosseum was amazing too, what more can I say?

By the time we got back to the hotel, I was feeling sick and when I awoke the next morning, the sore throat, temperature and aches had finally made an appearance and decided to make house in my body. Consider the fact that we had to drive 12 hours back to Barcelona, I was not a happy camper. The ride was beautifully torturous. Arriving at the hotel in Barcelona, I realized that I hadn't even had the opportunity to truly feel horrible about leaving Rome, which I adored.

The day journey back to Spain was day 12.

Day 13, I got up sicker than ever before asking P to go to the nearby pharmacy in order to score me some medication. I didn't cherish the idea of popping pills but I cherished the thought of being sick at 9000 feet in a pressurized cabin even less. Once I had managed to pull myself out of bed and get ready we were off to catch the local bus to Las Ramblas where P told me we would spend the day shopping as opposed to site seeing. You'd think that the shopping fanatic in me would be doing cartwheels but considering the fact that I was feeling as close to death without actually dying, I was not thrilled with the plan but didn't want to waste the last day in Spain.

Las Ramblas was fantastic, or so I imagined it was but my sickness was getting the better of me. I was barely able to put one foot in front of the other and when P insisted that he wanted to purchase boots for me, cowboy boots no less, I didn't even have the stamina to protest. We ended up spending a lot of money on a pair of boots I didn't want (I have to be fair and say that they are pretty damn cool with jeans) and a pair of boots for him which are kick ass as hell. You had to be there to watch us try and communicate with the sales person who was this sweet young woman who could not speak a lick of English. It's evident that facial expressions and ridiculous hand gestures can breach any language barrier on earth, including laughter and the appreciation for good fashion.

Wandering the streets, stopping from shop to shop, watching street performers as well as all sorts of walk of life wander past us was an experience that everyone should have which includes exploring the maze of small cobblestone streets of Las Ramblas and indulge in amazing gilato. I couldn't help but perk up a bit though the 1 hour local bus ride back to the hotel wasn't fun. Knowing that the last night of our trip was upon us, we hit a local restaurant which served some of the yummiest middle eastern food.

P and I sat there afterwards, indulging in smokes, reminiscing about our trip and sipping coffees. Packing that night was a bittersweet event. The next morning we got to the airport, returned Claudette, checked-in and boarded the flight with no mishaps.

I miss Europe. We're already talking about going back. I can't say anything more lyrical.