Drug-Induced Euphoria.
If you thought I forgot about blogging, I actually did.
But I am faithfully waxing lyrical now despite not having slept a wink for 33 hours now. For a city that becomes a ghost town during siesta hours, that's really little sleep. Perdón if I may be a tad incoherent.
More than ever now, I am convinced Spain is a drug. I came back from Madrid bowled over by the city, and now, in Valencia during the Las Fallas festival - I don't want it to end. I haven't had sleep, but I'm not sleepy, I don't want to go shopping because I want to be a part of the festivities, I chat up random people on the street with my pathetic grasp of Spanish just because I want to and it doesn't matter if I make a fool of myself. I dance on the streets with the faerras, I go to a bull fight and try to make out what the old Spanish guy next to me is talking about, I go to the markets and soak in the atmosphere, the vibrancy, the colours, I go to many, many Masceltas because I can't freaking get enough of it!
And did I mention how incredibly gorgeous the people are? ;o)
P.S.: Yes, you read it right, I went for a bull fight! Watch this space for photos - it was an experience like no other.