The other day, when I was heading to the theatre for the reading of 1984, my host, Lluis-Anton, gave me his metro pass. "That's okay," I said, 'i think I'll walk." "Walk?" He said, 'you don't want to walk. It's too hot." But I like to walk." "Yes, but you don't like to die." So I took the card, but - stubborn as I am - I walked anyway. And it was fine. I stayed in the shadows for the fifty minutes to the theatre, and when we finished the sun was going down and I walked home. "Ha!" I thought to myself. But too soon I Ha!ed, and how I wished he'd been around today to give me the same advice! I decided to take today off, and just stay around the apartment. But but then I felt like I should do a little something - after all I'm in Barcelona. So I thought I'd go for a little stroll. After all it was about 11 am when I started, and sunstroke around here starts around 1. So I popped out for a bit of a walk. An hour later I decided to go to a museum, which was free after 3pm, so I thought I'd wander around until then. I ended up wandering up a mountain nearby to see the castle at the top. By now the intensity of the sun was like being hit with a hot frying pan, and I was a long way from my housing. I could see my district, shimmering in the distance, taunting me with its air-conditioning. My Legs were starting to look like the cured ham I've been eating so much of, and my feet felt like I'd been walking through a field of discontented jellyfish. I'd stopped at about five different "super merkats," (which always makes me picture the meerkat from Lion King wearing a superman cape.) to get drinks. The good news was I found a shortcut back which snaked around the diving pool from the '92 Olympics, so the walk back to the museum wasn't that bad.The bad news was the museum wasn't really free after 3 pm. The sign was wrong. So, about 6 hours after I'd left, after walking through the hottest time of the day during my day off, I returned to my air conditioning, promising myself I won't do that again. But I am such a liar.