Take Your Marks... Go!

Today was one of those days that followed the pattern of the rabbit from the Rabbit and the Hare story: sprints followed by a little R&R.  I got to work excited to build on my progress from yesterday  My PI, Ignasi, had to take his son to a doctor's appointment this morning and was coming in for the afternoon.  That meant that I had to dry my samples using nitrogen gas and read all of the packets on each patient and sample and translate all the Spanish medical acronyms into something intelligible. Earlier this week, I had put together a 3-page list of Spanish medical acronyms with the help of Mireia, a godsend doctor who works in our lab AND does clinic duties.  Oh, and she has two kids, a husband, and the youthful appearance of a 24-year old.  Did I mention that she's the nicest person ever?  She's got to be magical.  Anyway, I spent the morning translating the Spanish medical equivalent of Tongues to something intelligible.  I also now read creatinine levels (indicative of kidney function) like a boss.

As the dedicated family members who read this blog already know, heart transplants are a personal topic for me.  Members of my extended family have had quite a few heart transplants; at one point, one of my relatives was the youngest person (at 14) to have a heart transplant in the US.  Reading the files of these patients is therefore somewhat sad and very humbling.  The doctor's sparse, objective talk belies a worsening situation and a patient on the brink of death.  It's a bit of a reality check.

Anyway, I worked diligently all morning so that I would be prepared for Ignasi's arrival.  We returned from lunch and... he wasn't there.  In fact, he didn't come in for the rest of the day, so I sat at my desk waiting.  I hope his son's okay.  Since I'd done all the work that I had and, after reading about 60 articles last week, I've read most of the relevant literature, I sort of hung out at the office for the rest of the day, awaiting the Grand Poobah's arrival.  At first, my efforts were scholarly and included reading over the patient files and perfecting my Excel spreadsheets.  As the afternoon wore on, though, my reading became simply health related  (NPR's health blogs), then more superficial news (coughMSNhomepagecough), and then simply tragic.  I was laughing hysterically to myself about how The Way Back, a movie about prisoners who escape from a Soviet prison and trek to India (based on the book The Long Road), is this super serious, depressing (and eventually uplifting) story

and all the movie won was an award for Best Makeup.  And that's when it hit me that I really needed to just shut down the computer and go home.  It was 4:45 pm, so I chatted with my coworkers and then walked to the Metro just before 5.

Once home, I had a bit of free time and decided to look up all things Barcelona related.  One of the many things I stumbled upon was a Barcelona Photo Blog, which I perused for quite a while.  It was exciting when I recognized something, though I've only been in the city for two weeks.  I even wrote the guy an e-mail telling him I appreciated his work and got a nice response telling me that comments like mine were what made all the late nights worth it.  Awwww!

Since I still had over an hour until the running group, I decided to call my friend Nico from yesterday.  I figured, what the hell, it can't hurt to find out more.  So I got out my map and opened it up in search of the little napkin scrap with his phone number on it.  Nothing fell out.  Nothing was stuck to the map.  The napkin scrap was gone.  It must have fallen out at La Boqueria Market yesterday, which means it's gone forever.  But hey, go big or go home, right?  I walked to the Metro and went to the beach.  And there it was: Opium Mar BCN.  A little less swanky by daylight, when it's overshadowed by the endless blue of ocean meets sky.  After evading one of the promoters who was aggressively handing out fliers to every girl on the sidewalk, I walked down into the open club.  It was empty, so down, down, down I went.  Still empty.  I walked though the dance area, out toward the bar and restaurant.  Finally, I spotted a man, far too well-dressed and attractive to be there by accident, and asked for Nico.  He looked confused, asked around, and informed me that nobody named Nico worked there, then asked if he could help me.  I thanked him, left, and immediately huffed down the beach to Nico's father's bar, Las Vegas, for an explanation.  Except that, when you're walking and not running, it takes a really long time to get all the way down the beach.  And the Las Vegas signs were nowhere to be seen.  I was beginning to think I'd made the whole thing up.  And then - AHA - I spotted it.  I walked up, asked for Nico, and was pointed toward someone in a hat.  I asked him for Nico, and he told me, in Spanish, to leave my CV with him.  At that point, I was done.  I didn't even want to be a waitress, and I was certainly not going to wade through the sticky details of working without a permit if I didn't need the job and wasn't being sought for a position.  It's been a fun 36 hours, guys, but the WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON episode has come to a close.  I decided to enjoy being at the beach, and took a stroll along the Barceloneta shore.

During my run yesterday, I spotted men using this playground as a free gym.  Apparently, it's not just an off-hours use of the equipment!

I didn't remember seeing this statue before, but it's kind of cool in an odd, modern way.

These guys were jamming by the side of the beach.  If you stuck around for a few minutes, you realized they were actually playing Star Wars theme song renditions.

 A new sand sculpture! With fire!

Once I got back to my apartment, I threw on my running clothes and jogged past the Arc de Triom

to the near entrance of Parc de Ciutadella (Citadel Park).

Citadel Park seems to be Barcelona's response to Madrid's El Retiro, on a smaller scale.  I arrived a few minutes early and stretched, looking for other runners who paused at the entrance.  People began to congregate a few meters away, so I introduced myself.  I was the only newbie; the rest run together nearly every week. Though I had only seen 4 people signed up on the MeetUp website, about 15 people showed up.  Finally, at about 8:15, we headed out.  Our 10k route took us through the park, down to the shore of Barceloneta, along the shore to the W hotel, through the town part of Barceloneta, then back to the park.  Though it was supposed to be my easier run day, I decided to run with the fast group since I'd been talking to those people anyway.  I managed to stay with them for the first 3-4 k, then decided this wasn't a good idea and slowed down.  It felt great to really run, though.  Maybe by the end of the summer I'll be able to run with them the whole time (a lofty goal).  To give you an idea of the company I am now keeping, tonight I joined a running group that is mostly composed of academics and biotech people, most of whom have PhDs and all of whom are fascinating.  The group also boasts among its usual members the world champion for 24-hour running races on sand.  I was slightly grateful he wasn't there today, or the fast group might have run even faster.  At the end of the run, I participated in a weekly tradition: the Finisher's Photo.

While the other runners invited me out for a beer afterward (another weekly tradition), I told them that I had a few more miles to get home.  There were general mumblings about, "Aha, now we know how the US is taking over the world! It's full of people like her!" but all were good natured and I was glad to have made an impression.  I hear that the Monday runs are up Mountjuic, so stay posted.

Spotted: A modeling shoot on the beach!  At first, I was observing this statue, which seemed pretty darn cool.  But then I saw one of those guys with the big oval aluminum-like light-directing thingymabobs and knew some sort of photoshoot had to be happening.  I rounded the statue in time to see a model, in clothes that were too ridiculous to not be designer, posing at the corner of this statue.  The photographer was telling her to put one foot up on the other knee, which seemed awfully hard to do while standing on the precipice of the statue base and wearing 6-inch heels.  But she was very game.

Pro modeling tip: during photoshoots, people apparently just shake their head around like they’re in a hair band music video, and the photographer is responsible for catching you at a moment when you don’t look like you’re suffering from whiplash.  If you see me doing this in future photos and I don’t look like something out of a Gucci ad campaign, blame the photographer.