My solo day trip to Vitoria (1.5 hours west of Pamplona) started unpleasantly, as my stomach decided to empty its contents into the aisle of the bus about halfway there. I retched periodically for the remainder of the trip, suffering from some miserable combination of a hangover and carsickness. I dwelled on the vaguely positive thought that at least the bus was mostly empty; I was able to retreat to the very back so that no one else would have to suffer as I choked on my own bile.
When we arrived, I shamefully approached the driver.
"Estoy enferma y vomité en el fondo del bus," I confessed with a grimace and volunteered to clean it up.
He was unperturbed.
"No te preocupes," he waved away my concerns. Someone from the bus station would do it, he told me. This isn't the first time it's happened.
We went back and forth a little bit, me insisting that I could clean up the mess, but he was indifferent since the responsibility clearly wasn't his. I gave in, thanked him and left the bus. After dealing with my Number One Priority — buying gum from a vending machine — and acquiring a city map from the info desk, I retreated to sit and catch my breath in the park next to the bus station.
I still felt terribly sick to my stomach. All the landmarks on the map looked dauntingly far away. So I threw my pride into the bushes behind me, clutched my bag close, and took a wonderful hour-long nap in the sun. (Sun!!!)
|the bench that loved me back|
Then I went to an art museum that had lots of rooms full of interesting art.
|rooms full of art|
Then I sat for awhile on a bench outside the museum, as my nausea had started to rise again.
|a third sunny bench|
I didn't eat all day, partly because I wasn't hungry and partly because I didn't want to tempt my stomach on the ride home — which was blessedly uneventful.