It has been an amazingly eventful week, and it is still only Tuesday. The week began with myself and Natalie Grandin trying, unsuccessfully, to sneak into breakfast, sticking my wrists into ice water to force me to visit the toilet, having a neighbourhood watch with local Spaniards and trying to speak Spanglish to a doctor trying to ascertain why I have had a headache for three weeks.
Yet another early morning flight from the sunshine of Marbella, we arrive in damp, cold Barcelona. After reading my previous blogs, you will recall me saying how little money we make and how important the skill of getting things free actually is. With five years under my belt travelling on a shoestring budget, I have a few tricks up my sleeve, and sometimes a few sandwiches.
After arriving at 9am and thankfully being able to check in early, we thought we would cheekily sneak into breakfast and pretend we had spent a night in the hotel. We failed miserably and after signing the eye-watering bill of €42, we needed to recoup some of the money spent.
As I’m sure most people do, we decided to stock up for a few lunches and began making as many sandwiches as possible, folding them into napkins and discreetly placing them into our pockets. Thankfully, I had my baggy Adidas tracksuit bottoms on, and managed to fit four small baguettes, a yogurt and some cereal bars, prompting me to walk a little like a rapper, with a slight limp as I try and prevent my bottoms from sliding to the floor.
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With bread protruding out of Natalie Grandin’s pocket and leaving a trail of crumbs along the way, she craftily sidesteps the woman at the front desk and makes it safely out. I’m wondering if a commando roll across the floor would squash my sandwiches, whilst drawing attention to myself, so instead, I use the bickering American Airlines flight attendant as cover, to disappear out of the side door and into the lift.
After a long day of waiting around for the rain and trying to practice, the last thing you want to have to do is to walk miles for your dinner. Unfortunately for us, we were in Spain, a difficult country to find food at the best of times, made even harder when it’s Easter weekend and the whole area resembles a ghost town.
After wandering around in circles for 40 minutes, being sent to random restaurants, which were closed, and stopping enough people so at one point we had a circle of eight around us, resembling a neighbourhood watch meeting, we give up. Thankfully, with a sandwich left from breakfast, I head to bed only slightly hungry, but amazingly dissatisfied.
Marbella was a great tournament run under the watchful eye of Conchita Martinez, this week it was her compatriot, Arantxa Sanchez Vicario, it would be interesting to see who faired better. The weather hasn’t helped Arantxa’s cause, as it has been abysmal, spending most of our time watching storm clouds roll in, drench the courts and then roll back out again.
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To make matters worse, but thankfully bringing a few smiles to a dreary start to the tournament we witnessed an on court water fight. As the first match finally went on to the only dry court, an inquisitive lines judge decided to press a button, which set off all the sprinklers, drenching the courts again and forcing players and line judges to dodge the changing spray. It did raise a laugh from me and a few others however, as we watched Greta Arn dodge the water and an unsuspecting lines judge get hit in the face by the spray.
After practicing all day, I was excited to finally sit down and watch Aston Villa take on Everton in a must win game. After seeing Villa go two goals down and flinging obscenities at the screen, I was informed I had been chosen for a drugs test. As I had only just been to the toilet and Villa had just scored, I wasn’t happy.
I trudged downstairs and told them it may take a while and a large amount of liquid would have to be consumed. After chugging three bottles of Powerade I thought with a little visualization and water running I would be able to complete the task in record time. Unfortunately with the stress of wanting to head back and watch the football and with a woman stood a meter from me, I wasn’t able to and had to wait for another 30 minutes, chug a few more waters and listen to players throw out different ideas for making you want to visit the toilet.
Bouncing around on a swiss ball certainly didn’t work, neither did putting my hands in an ice bath or hearing running water, so I just kept drinking. For my second attempt, I thought I had cracked it, but didn’t meet the required amount, back to the swiss ball, the ice bucket and the bottles of water. Finally, after six bottles of water, three bottles of Powerade, a coke and a quick bounce on the swiss ball, I was ready and completed my task in lightening speed.
After spending the rest of the evening frequenting the toilet, I am now preparing for my match against the winners of last week’s tournament, Jans and Rosolska. Having playing them twice before, I have one win and also one loss against them, so hopefully I can set the record straight and redeem myself after the disappointment of Fed Cup.