I have much bigger things to blog about-- our trip to Tarragona, our trip to Zurich, our hotel in Zurich, the San Juan holiday, my pregnancy-- but stupid little things like a bird flying into our apartment or our slightly disturbing Sunday seem much more interesting to write about. I'll get to the other stuff later because I know you're waiting with bated breath for those posts.This Sunday started out like any other Sunday, with our morning sprint to the Metro stop to catch a train to church. There is nothing worse than getting to the Metro and realizing you missed the train by ten seconds and then see that the next train isn't coming for seven minutes. Our ward takes the Sacrament very seriously so if you're not in those doors by the time the Sacrament song starts going, there are men guarding and holding the doors closed to keep you out. And those doors don't open until after the passing is done. No mercy for those in the foyer who just missed their train by ten seconds. Those people are out of luck and might as well go home because they don't understand anything that's said in the meeting after the Sacrament is passed anyways.
And so we walk very very quickly to the Metro stop every Sunday morning. Running would cause a sweat so we keep it to a shin-splint inducing fast walk. This Sunday morning we got to the turnstile and saw that there was a train there right then. Andrew got through and hopped on that train while I tried to follow. Somewhere in the process of pushing through those obnoxious little turning bars, my dress got caught and pulled them back, locking me in with the hem of my dress wrapped around the end of one of the bars. I had to scream for Andrew and then try to figure out how to get myself free. Eventually I was able to loosen the dress and then hop the bars. I think the train conductor must have heard me because the train actually did wait. Unfortunately during the whole ordeal, the bar had jammed my thigh between its end and the side of the machine. I felt quite injured and had to hobble onto the train where I sat and fanned myself to keep the tears of pain from forming.
After I got on the train, Andrew pointed out that it looked like I had just hopped the turnstile without paying which just made me feel guilty on top of my overwhelming embarrassment and throbbing pain. I almost posted a picture of the bruise I got but it looks so minor compared to how much it hurt-- and that would require posting a picture of my fat white thigh. Even a day later as I walked to the gym I could feel my whole thigh throb with every step.
The rest of the day was pretty uneventful until we decided to take a walk in Parc de la Ciutadella. It's a beautiful park that is about a three minute walk from our flat. There's a gorgeous fountain there, the zoo, several lanes you can stroll through, and a little lake you can take a rowboat out on. See the above photo. As we were walking by the pretty little lake, it was hard not to feel calm and relaxed and just very peaceful. That is until you looked down and noticed that the seagull that seemed to be swimming peacefully in the lake was actually gnawing on the end of a torn-off wing of some other bird. It just seemed so incongruous with the whole scene and was therefor all the more horrifying.
The rest of the day was pretty boring. We watched Nadal and Federer and ate popcorn and apples, but wasn't that post so much more interesting than a rundown of a weekend trip?
