sick

Day 298: Sibiu to Timișoara

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I still wasn’t feeling super hot, but didn’t want to lose another day that could otherwise be spent feeling awesome in the future along the coast. So, we spent the day on an old European train from Sibiu to Timisoara. We got in towards the evening and after we dropped off our bags, Andrew refused to let me crawl in a bunk and go to sleep, insisting that eating would make me feel better. It did, kinda, and then I crawled into bed. Not before our hostel offered us free shots of Rakia. My stomach turned. My head throbbed a little more at the thought, but I smiled, said thanks, and encouraged Andrew to accept one while I snuck back into the dorm room. The sweet (super, super sweet) girl at the hostel then offered me tea instead, but a pillow and my yak-wool scarf were all I wanted.

Whenever we’re sick, or tired or frustrated with a day or the trip for some reason or another, one of us will ask the other, “Do you want to go home?”

We always say “No.”

Except, this time I responded, sadly “We don’t even have a home…”

It’s usually a joke. But the trip has started hitting me a little harder lately, and not feeling well certainly wasn’t helping matters. 

Day 210: Andrew goes to the doctor

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We let Andrew sleep in, and then called the clinic. The doctor who spoke English (and treated Eben) wouldn’t be in the office until three. Eben and Annelies warned us it would be a wait once we got there. It probably wouldn’t have been as long had someone let us know we needed to sign up to see the doctor. Instead, they directed us to the waiting room and told us “ten minutes.” Like, maybe, they thought we just wanted to hang out for a few hours for fun. When we neared our third hour of waiting, I nudged Andrew to go talk to someone. He found a German dentist. Because, isn’t that what everyone expects to find in a Mozambican health clinic?

Turns out, the German dentist could speak Portugese and he was able to help get us into see the doctor. Less than another hour of waiting later, Andrew was on the examining table, and I was sitting across the doctor’s desk like a worried mother hen. Andrew described the accident, the swelling in his one injured leg, and now the recent pain in the other leg.

“What about your toes?” The doctor immediately demanded. My eyes grew wide and I couldn’t help smiling in that ‘I WAS RIGHT!’ kinda way. Here’s the thing: Andrew’s toes are gross. They have been gross for the entire three years (THREE YEARS) we’ve been dating. He has always blamed running. He used to run 10 kilometers several mornings before work in Seoul. He’s flat-footed. He blamed the running and his flat feet for the state of his toenails. Andrew avoided eye-contact with me and brushed it off with the doctor before he further examined him and ordered a blood test.

We waited. We got the blood test. We waited for the results. We were called back into the doctor’s office to find out something was off. He had an infection and the doctor was going to give him antibiotics and ibupofen and some cream for his toe-nails.

Seven hours in a Mozambican clinic suddenly felt like a small price to pay if it meant Andrew’s toes would no longer be as gross. Oh right, and his leg would stop swelling and the pain would go away.

We got back to our hostel, Eben, and Annelies after nine o’clock. They had dinner waiting for us. Really. They sat around the kitchen table with us while we heated up our dinner and shared the events from the doctor’s office with them. We went to sleep, Andrew thinking we were going to leave the next night, me thinking I absolutely didn’t want to rush anything.

Day 90: No more ‘Delhi belly’

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He's back! He's back! My travel partner is back! and hungry. I was relieved. We're not out of the woods yet, but he's finally eaten a solid meal and stayed outside of our hotel room for longer than 15 minutes. Progress. We sat atop a rooftop cafe (Sam's) in Paharganj (the backpacker's district) and I became obsessed with this view (as you can see in the video as well). And that was our day…

Food poisoning remedies: We did a little research and found out that charcoal tablets (which was on my packing list, but I couldn't really find it in the States or in South Korea, turns out to be easy to find and super cheap in India) help as does a small amount of Apple Vinegar Cider? We've stocked up on both and a handful of electrolyte packets as well. Hopefully we're more prepared for the next time around. I should have known to track this stuff down upon arrival, but had no clue! I'm also not used to a bout of food poisoning lasting as long as it did with Andrew this time around… Oh… India…

*We got (and paid for) our India visas while we were still in Seoul. I realized I forgot to add it in last week when we entered the country- so I put it in today. Most expensive visa yet!*

Day 88: still recovering…

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When I was sick, I told Andrew that being sick in India was a like doing a cleanse that you didn't have to pay for, or suffer through for weeks on end. I don't know why celebrities don't just spend an equivalent amount of time in India eating the wrong foods. Because we seem to be awesome at it. And no, we're not eating any street food! We've been eating at a lot of Lonely Planet or Trip Advisor recommended restaurants… which just goes to show you, sometimes you're just better off eating off the street. (Ok, not off the street literally, but you know what I mean.)

I went on, telling him that I was going to get super skinny and pretty and everyone would love me. He rolled his eyes. (Obviously, just in case you don't know me as well, I wasn't being serious.) I also assured him that me being sick was better for him as well, I don't talk as much, therefore he gets some peace and quiet for a change. He didn't roll his eyes at me on this point. But tucked me in and gave me a kiss on the forehead and stayed near until I felt better.

Knowing how comforting it was to have him near when I was sick, I haven't ventured far. Partly because, while I didn't feel sick, I also didn't feel great. I made it to the roof to get some sun and fresh air, but couldn't stay long… Back in our dark room, We watched more tv and movies, I did some blog work (check out the updated map with pictures!) and got started designing a new "current projects" page that will hopefully go up soon. Sorry, it's been another boring day on the blog for you… 

Day 87: recovering in Delhi

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This seems to be a trend… I get sick, and then a day or two later, Andrew gets sick. Not only sick- but this time super sore as well, my poor travel partner was not doing so well today. I'm so happy I picked the best room we looked at last night. Because, if you're going to spend all day in one room, you may as well have a nice one, right? (Ok, well, it's nicer...)

We had planned to sleep in (something we haven't done in several days) and then with Andrew sick, we decided to stay in as well. We watched tv and movies. I slipped out for water and food replenishments (for me). Andrew slept. I thought about slipping out longer and taking some video of the neighborhood we're staying in, until Andrew suggested I take a video of us being sleepy and sick. A pretty accurate "day in a minute" video for our day, as this does happen, and not every day can be as exciting as walking into The Taj Mahal, so I decided to take him up on it. You can thank him for how boring this video is. And no, there are no surprises in the minute at all. It's rather boring, just as our day was.

We often get asked where "home" is for us. I always laugh and answer that we don't really have one at the moment. The latest girl who asked, a Chinese tv producer we met in Nepal, thought it was so romantic that we are eachother's home while we travel. Maybe I too, would think it was romantic if I wasn't aware of how dirty one gets on the road, or how unromantic the places are that we sometimes stay, or what it's like being sick and taking care of eachother in a foreign hotel room. Again, all of this might seem romantic on the outside looking in, and maybe I should just keep it that way even though it doesn't exactly feel romantic when one of us has to go out for more toilet paper for the other…

As boring as it is being (somewhat) healthy while the other one is sick, it's really comforting having someone with you. If nothing else to deal with the front desk man, run out for more tp and water, or be the one to get out of bed so you can lay in misery in it until you feel better. I don't know how I would make it through if I was sick, on my own, in India. Andrew confirmed he wouldn't either, maybe in not so many words… 

"If you would give me food poisioning, I'd still eat you…" at least this is what he said while I was sick, and he was healthy. I think he might change his mind after today…

Day 73: a lazy day in Thamel

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And by lazy, I mean sick. Really, really sick. Only it wasn't me for a change, and this time it was me trying to convince Andrew to drink some electrolyte water and eat some vegetable soup. Needless to say, it was a quiet day, and we didn't venture far… We almost didn't venture at all, until I convinced Andrew that a short walk would be better than no walk at all. Getting sick in a foreign country is not fun at all. We were expecting it to happen in India, so I guess we might have a little preview of what's to come. Let's hope our stomachs have toughened up at least a little bit for the next month. If not, we have some back up Nepalese electrolyte mix!

Day 70: Nagarkot: the zero trick pony

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Everyone raved about Nagarkot. "It's so beautiful! You can see Mount Everest!" They all exclaimed. Good one. We couldn't see anything, and the "town" basically was one road that winded around the mountain tops. We woke up for the sunrise, granted I was pretty much awake all night with the "Kathmandu stew" as Andrew likes to call it, but there wasn't much to see through the thick haze that had not yet dissipated. I went back to sleep, Andrew went out to get water and then forced me to drink it, until I was well enough to eat a plain pancake for breakfast and walk around Nagarkot.

Nagarkot would have been nice, had the weather cooperated, the guesthouse owners not so pushy, and maybe I had been a little warmer and not sick. Despite all of this though, the town largely felt empty, run-down, and like a ghost-town. So few people were out and about when we expected having a harder time even finding a room, and no one was super friendly when you would pass them walking on the road.

The highlight of our visit was the local bus we decided to take back to Bhaktapur. A taxi to Bhaktapur would cost us at least 800 Rs "Ok, final price, very good for you!" one driver insisted. $9.00 isn't that bad, for the 22 kilometers to Bhaktapur, but I was just a little tired of the feeling I got in Nagarkot where everyone was trying to make a buck off of us. The local bus cost 40 Rs. ($0.45) and I knew it would be more of an adventure than the taxi. 

And it totally was. After the first three stops (all within about 400 meters of where the bus departed) Andrew and I made guesses as to how many stops would be made and how long it would take to get to Bhaktapur. It had taken 30-40 minutes by taxi the previous day. The local bus left at 12:15 pm. Andrew guessed we wouldn't get to Bhaktapur until nightfall. I guessed we would roll in by 3:30. Then Andrew's "more serious" guess was 3:31pm with 40 stops. I countered with 39 stops.

We were both off. way off. We got into Bhaktapur by 1:30 pm with a grand total of 23 stops. Men were on the roof, women piled huge bags of rice into the aisle, and the man collecting busfare stood in the open doorway jumping on and off with passengers and hitting the side of the bus everytime it got too close to the edge of the road. At one point we passed a much larger "Tourist" bus only holding two passengers. I wondered if they felt a bit silly as they looked in on our 30+ loaded smaller bus. 

We got into Bhaktapur, unsure of where the next local bus would drop us off in Kathmandu, so got a taxi back to the city, where the electricity promptly went out. Go figure.

Day 10: Still a bit sick, only in Hanoi this time

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Due to the extenuating circumstances on the overnight bus, I was still feeling not so great. I promptly crawled into bed and stayed there longer than any traveler should. (Apologies for the weak day in a minute video and lack of photos, or um, exciting stories to tell you.) The problem with me and stomach issues is that I tend to stop eating until I’m absolutely starving and break down and eat food that I probably shouldn’t. Enter Andrew: “Will Breaking Bad and pizza make you feel better?” Answer: “YES.”

Day 9: “Just call me Little Miss Poopy Sore Calves.”

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I woke up, and as I limped around the home-stay house, I confirmed that breaking in a pair of barefoot running shoes (that I thought would also make great wet trekking shoes) was the worst idea ever. I scraped the last of my Tiger Balm out of the jar and gently massaged it into my calves while we waited for breakfast. Our itinerary said we’d enjoy breakfast with our host family “after sunrise” and I thanked the Sapa stars their definition of sunrise ended at 9:30 AM. We were served, but didn’t eat with our host family (the family we still weren’t exactly certain who they were) and then we took off through terraces, bamboo forests, Giang Ta Chai village, a waterfall, and a suspension bridge.

This day of trekking was my favorite. I still wasn’t feeling so hot, but the trekking through terraces and jumping over streams, and sitting with my feet in the water (Genius idea, Tony and Raquel!) felt the most like what I had enjoyed four years ago.

It was a little muddy, a little exhausting, and reminded me of being ten and going out exploring in the woods behind my childhood home.

After lunch, we were picked up by a bus pumping some electronic dance beats and headed back to Sapa’s city center for showers, and last minute minority tribe wears. This got me in trouble. I saw a bag our first day in Cat Cat, but was feeling too badly to bargain it down to a reasonable price. I didn’t even stop to ask how much it was, just looked long enough to know it was just different enough from all of the other bags that I liked it a lot. Because I didn’t get it our first day, I was on a mission to find one similar on our last day.

This didn’t happen. My next (not so) brilliant idea was to get another style (with the embroidery and colors I wanted) and take it to a tailor in Hoi An and have them turn it into the style of bag I wanted. Perfect? Right? Until I worried that maybe I didn’t have enough material for the style of bag I liked, and continued with (not so) brilliant ideas to buy a pillowcase (with the embroidery and colors I wanted) and even a belt (with the embroidery and colors I wanted) to ensure that I would have enough fabric for a bag. I spent $12.00 on this mess and later found a different bag entirely (of better quality for $15.00) I simply HAD to have in Hanoi. GAH!

Lesson #5 learned from traveling around the world: Seriously. Don’t buy it unless it’s exactly what you want. Seriously. You’ll find another bag you love soon, I promise.

After I spent too much on things I wasn’t going to want in the end, we got some Tiger Balm, showers, dinner, and hopped on the shuttle bus to catch our overnight bus back to Hanoi. Our bus driver hit a motorcyclist. We waited on the bus uneasily as we watched the poor driver try to call for help while not moving in the middle of the road, our driver busy picking up pieces of the bus that broke off upon contact. Fifteen minutes or so later, the motorcyclist got up (or more accurately, he was pulled to his feet by our bus driver) everyone cleared out of the intersection, we waited a bit longer, and then we were on the road again. On average, something like 30 people die daily in traffic related accidents in Vietnam. Not halfway through our trip here, it’s easy to see why.

As if that wasn’t enough fun for one bus ride, I started feeling poorly again. Mostly, I think due to the anxiety of being on a bus with a crazy driver and 11 more hours to go. I was relieved when we pulled into a rest stop, hoping a trip to the bathroom would help. It didn’t. The “bathroom” consisted of a concrete wall separating the men from the women. A trough sat a little deeper closer to the wall, behind a row of bricks that were lined up for women to stand on as they (we) squat down to take care of business. side by side.

Modesty is simply something you have to forget about in situations such as these. At least I wasn’t wearing a romper (without a bra) so I wasn’t completely vulnerable. (When attempting to poop in public, it’s better not to be naked.) I gritted my teeth, nodded to the Vietnamese woman next to me, and marched up to the bricks and squatted. Like a boss. Only not really, because of the two numbers that I needed to take care of to make my stomach feel better, I simply couldn’t attend to both with an audience. I climbed back on the bus and immediately into a fetal position for the remaining six or so hours before again, sprinting to a bathroom while Andrew checked us into a room in Hanoi.