Volem Dormir

That to the left is a photo of a building located not far from the Casino Barcelona, snapped during a brief walk on Friday morning over in the nearby Barceloneta district. It’s an apartment building with bedsheets hanging out of the windows, all bearing messages complaining about noise and expressing the need to sleep. (Click to enlarge.)

Stephen Bartley wrote a little something about the messages in a post on the PokerStars blog last week. We had noticed during late dinners how there was a ton of activity late at night, even after midnight. The beaches were full of people, as was the boardwalk and many of the establishments near this building.

As Stephen wrote about, there were demonstrations Friday and Saturday night, which if I follow things correctly were conducted by the locals protesting what the influx of partying tourists has done to their sleeping patterns. I would see some of those protests walking back to the hotel around 2 a.m. that night -- lots of cars blaring their horns cruising up and down the avenue, with a heavy police presence all about.

Reading around I see the whole “Volem Dormir” (“we want to sleep”) campaign has been around for a while now, with the bedsheets a not uncommon sight around Barcelona recently.

Sleep was what I sought during my long voyage home yesterday, although it proved as elusive for me as it has been for the tenants of that building in Barceloneta. Even so, some four thousand-plus miles later I’m safely back home on the farm, not a bad place at all to recuperate from such a long and intense trip.

The flights back were fine, although as I’d picked up some sort of sinus-related bug those last few days I wasn’t necessarily feeling my best near the end. In fact it still feels a little like I’ve got a cotton ball stuck in one ear, which is a little worrisome. But things are finally starting to loosen up I think, and I’ve got the requisite meds to get me back on the mend.

Wanted to doze during my trip home, but on the long flight from Barcelona to Philly I was seated next to an extremely chatty retiree on his way home after visiting a sibling in Spain. By the time we landed I knew most of the pertinent details of his lengthy biography, plus had received some advice about cooking for women. “It’s best to have a signature dish,” he explained, noting his was salmon with a side of asparagus.

“The key is the Hollandaise sauce.”

With my voice mostly shot from the sore throat, I confined myself to responding with eyebrow raises and nods. He also recommended Listerine for my cough. “Twice a day... will knock it right out.”

On the shorter flight home from Philly I did have a row to myself and stretched out a bit, although the pressure in my noggin’ made it impossible to sink into anything close to slumber.

What a start to the EPT season it was, really, with record-breaking fields all around and some genuinely interesting stories surrounding the event, including with the way the high rollers and Main played out. Malta comes up next in late October, and it’ll be interesting to see if the momentum continues there.

Meanwhile my momentum has slowed to a crawl. If you don’t mind, I’m just gonna put the seat back a little here and try to relax. You can keep talking, if you want.