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Sunrise, size-down trousers & the Mediterranean siesta olympics

Woke up early enough to catch the Mediterranean doing its whole “look how pretty I am” routine. Coffee in hand, zero clouds in sight, and the kind of sunrise that makes you briefly consider becoming a morning person (briefly being the key word).

The local weather confirmed the good vibes: somewhere between 21° and 25°. Basically, spring but with better PR.

First mission of the day: a tactical strike on Carrefour. Objective: refund trousers that were now officially “too big for this new, improved me,” and replace them with a smaller size. Success on all fronts. Also picked up the usual “oh yeah, we forgot this yesterday” items — because travel shopping is 40% necessity, 60% vibes.

Despite injecting my weekly miracle molecule earlier (which theoretically tells my stomach to calm down and mind its business), my tummy started making whale-song noises by late morning. Tragically, Spain does not acknowledge lunch before noon. The plan: walk south along the beach toward Londres, where we’d clocked a few promising restaurants the day before. It felt virtuous — steps for the counter, sea air for the soul, and delusions of fitness for the ego. We’re aiming for 10,000 steps a day, which sounds impressive until you realize half of them are motivated by food.

By the time we arrived, lunch culture was waking up. We settled into an Italian spot called Il Fornello and, honestly, give that decision a Michelin star in my heart. Lamb chops: divine. Wine: perfectly recommended. Dessert: entered the chat and stole the show. If joy had a flavor, it would probably taste like whatever that dessert was.

The walk back took us into the 4pm zone, aka Spain’s sacred nap o’clock. We attempted a beach nap but the breeze had other plans, so we retreated home like sensible, slightly overfed adults. I upgraded the nap to “bed mode” and emerged just in time for aperitif, feeling refreshed and mildly smug about my commitment to the Mediterranean lifestyle.

Evening entertainment: To the Moon, streamed via laptop, VPN, and my emotionally supportive USB-C to HDMI cable. Technology really is beautiful when it works and doesn’t require swearing at the router.

Called it an early night, which felt virtuous at the time and wildly foolish at 4am when my brain decided, “Ah yes, now is the perfect moment to write reflective travel prose.” So here we are. Sunrises admired, trousers downsized, lamb chops worshipped, naps perfected — and sleep schedule absolutely ruined. Would do it all again tomorrow.

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