Four years ago, I decided on a whim in Hanoi to tag along with two sweet Aussie boys to trek through Sapa for two days, and one night. It was the muddiest, messiest, most fabulous part of my two month solo stint through S.E. Asia. I’ve been ecstatic about going back, and sharing what I expected to be another wonderful experience with Andrew. That is, until we got off the bus and I had to sprint (er, walk quickly enough to make sure I was first, yet slow enough not to alarm the front desk at the hotel) to the bathroom. Of course I got sick in Sapa. I was sick, but stubborn enough to attempt the 6K trek to Cat Cat Village.
I survived half of the 6K trek. The down-the-mountain part of the trek, even though I was rather weak in the knees, suffering from the cold sweats, and requesting Andrew either hold my hand to help keep my balance or walk in front of me in case I fainted. Which, at the time, seemed likely. In short, I was a mess. Once we started ascending the mountain, my body shut down, and I caved. I wimped out. I gave up. I climbed on the back of a motorbike up the hill and promptly crawled into my hotel bed where I lay for the next 4 hours.
When I woke up, in need of some fresh mountain air, Andrew and I walked through town, the market, and the town square before trying to convince my body that a bowl of chicken pho was the same as a bowl of Campbell’s chicken noodle soup. It didn’t work. But the ice-cream cone Andrew tracked down tasted good, even if it didn’t cure my stomach bug.
Lesson #2 learned from traveling around the world: Don’t assume the meds you need are in your daypack without checking. Otherwise you’ll end up with an abundance of Claritin when what you really need is the Imodium you left in your bigger backpack. In a different city.
