[continued from previous entry]
Drifted in and out of delicious sleep, sounds of hallway voices and closing doors mingling with dreams. Finally came to after midday, decided to venture out, see how things felt.
Showered, shaved, fell out of my teeny bathroom and began to drag on pants. A knock at the door stopped me, a woman's voice asked an unintelligible question. I pulled on a shirt, stuck my still-damp head out into the hall to find the buxom eastern european woman dressed in housekeeping togs, wanting to know if I wanted my lair cleaned. She seemed a bit flustered in a nice way to find my bleary self there, partially dressed. I declined the room cleaning, asked for more shampoo, she thrust a wad of packets into my hand, we said good-bye.
A short time later I was threading my way through crowded lunchtime sidewalks on Oxford Street. People of all ages, from all over the map. Languages of all kinds being spoken. And lovely women all around. Took the tube down to the Strand, picked up a copy of El País, tried to ignore the news about the ongoing civil war between Spain's two biggest political parties. Stopped into a café/upscale lunch shop the size of several shoe boxes laid end to end, jammed myself into a chair at a teensy table, had a slug of caffeine and a croissant. Then another slug, managing to get it all down before the jostling of passing elbows could send any of it into my lap. (The place had one lone, hardworking woman to deal with the lunchtime flood of customers -- whatever she was being paid, it wasn't enough.)
Back out into the afternoon, clouds and sunlight trading off, a chilly breeze gusting up now and then. Wandered, enjoyed sights and sounds. Eventually passed an Indian joint with a good-looking lunch menu. Stumbled in, discovered I was the only customer. A waiter, a man behind the counter, a cook banging pots and pans in the kitchen. And me. Had an excellent meal, depressed-looking staff tossing plates of fragrant food at me.
Returned to teeny, cozy hotel room. Cranked up the laptop, talked with friends, visited Second Life (a place in which I spend far too much time). Had intended to head back out, find my way to the theater district, do something arty, but couldn't seem to pull myself out of my chair. Debated crawling back under comfy covers, drifting back off to sleep. Didn't do that either. The minutes trickled by, at some point I went to the window, looked out into falling darkness, discovered it was raining like hell out there. Went back online, feeling blessedly free of nasty, opressive guilt.
When the rain let up, I pulled on a coat, went out to round up something to take care of sore throat/runny nose. Ducked into a chemist shop, left with a bag of stuff. Thought about an evening meal, followed promising-looking sidestreets past busy restaurants, pubs, wine bars. Thought how nice it would be to have company, someone to eat with, chat with, hold hands with. (Sniffle.) Wandered damp sidewalks, eventually wound up back at the hotel. Brewed up hot water, drank a surprisingly comforting cup of Lemsip. Crawled into bed, drifted off to restless sleep.
Not the finest night of sleep I ever had, but better than nothing. And the day's hours of lounging about helped. When I tottered to my feet the following a.m., my energy level felt higher than it had, my throat less sore. Threw on clothes, did the breakfast thing, finding two eastern european women presiding in the dining room this day, the second a cute, slim blonde woman who seemed every bit as interested in me as her partner. Ate a decent meal, went upstairs to phone friends I'd be having a rendezvous with.
[this entry in progress]
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Faces seen at the Borough Market, London:
España, te quiero.
rws 1:06 PM [+]
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