That which does not kill me...

I haven't blogged in a couple days because, well, we almost died.

Not literally. But death would have been a kind and welcome respite from the bout of food poisoning that Michelle and I have suffered with the past 36 hours. Death by torture like the Spanish Inquistors inflicted in the Plaza Mayor a couple blocks from our hotel would seem merciful by comparison. It was that bad.

We still haven't been able to bring ourselves to eat anything yet. And that's the most disappointing thing -- my Spanish food adventures are over. I've been lucky enough to try a wide variety of local dishes, but no more. Even a whiff of the aromas from the sidewalk cafes makes me wretch.

When we first arrived and I noticed the ubiquitous McDonalds, Wendys and KFC scattered in amongst the many tapas bars and restaurants I said to Michelle how could anyone even consider eating at Macdonalds with all this great food around. But a Big Mac is starting to sound good right now.