Into every life, a little rain must fall. I simply had no energy to maintain a blog over the past few days. And honestly, I didn{t want to post anything negative and worry anyone without having a silver lining.
I returned from Machu Picchu completedly worn out. I felt fatigued completely and totally. I had limited ability to thermoregulated- chills alternating with overheating. My intestines took another turn for the worse. The sandfly bites on my legs itch more than anything I have ever had (except the rash I had from Mono when I was 16) and hurt. I made the mistake of googling Machu Picchu and Sandfly and came up with horrible accounts of them lasting months and leaving nasty scars. My legs ached from all of the stone steps; slightly reminiscent of how I felt after descending all those marble steps in the Greek Isles.
Was I feeling crappy because of the damp, cold weather? Was it the altitude? Was it the intestinal ailments? Or was I simply overdue for a good flu? It has been a few years since I have been sick (aunt Sue will remember this; right before Alex and Isaacs bar mitzvah).
I spent monday Schlepping. I organized travel to Puno. Bought gifts in the artesan market and shipped a box out to the US. I changed my flight ticket. Simple tasks are slow in Peru.
I didnt feel much better on Monday. The good bus company was sold out, as were others, and the travel agent didnt tell me anything about the bus line I was booked on. Being used to the fancy bus line, I didn{t bring food or a jacket as pillows, blankets and food are provided. The bus was funky to say the least. It smelled and the seats were falling apart. There was no security. It was actually a collectivo. It was a milk run that stopped everywhere. I took a sedative and half slept with my arms tightly curled around my carry on bag. Great. I tried to console myself with the idea that I was travelling how the locals do. Thankfully, Lin from Taiwan gave me a chocolate (yes, I was desperate enough to eat chocolate- desperate times, desperate measures).
One bright spot was that a woman boarded at Juliaca who owned a hostal. The brochure looked nice. Maybe one thing less to deal with. So, after 7.5 hours of what should have taken 5.5 hours, me along with all the other gringos (5) got into a taxi paid by the hostal owner. The hostal turned out to be the nicest bedroom of any I have had for 25 soles ($9). I felt more fatigued on arrival. I found my way to a restaurant for a caprese sandwich and was half jealous of a tour group in the restaurant. Their guide was giving them their itinerary. Must be nice to not have to plan. So easy, no adventure though. And I wouldnt really want that. I booked a tour to the floating islands ($9) for the next morning and a bus ticket ($7) to Copacabana Bolivia for the afternoon.
I climbed into bed. I had chills. Had I made a mistake booking the tour and bus? I decided that I would wait and see how I felt in the morning. If I still felt crappy, I could simply stay in bed. I longed for my bed in Anchorage.
I roused myself long enough to buy take out and a bottle of water. I climbed back into bed and listened to episodes of This AMerican Life and dozed off. I woke up occassionally and ate a few mouthfuls.
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