Phew!
This vacation is turning out to be quite a roller
coaster, in more ways than one!
If there's been one downside to Brazil, it's the lack
of good food. I must've tried over 20 restaurants
since I got here, and I haven't found anything worth
going back to (and quite a few worth never stepping
into again!)
Until I'm proven otherwise, I'll rank Brazilian
cuisine as worst on the planet following the British
(but at least in England they have the good sense to
let other nationalities--Italians, French,
Indian--have some restaurants.)
I think that's how I got food poisoning Monday night.
The effects were slow to dawn on me (as, of course, my
mind was on other matters), but I started to get
unusually tired as the evening progressed, and went to
bed much earlier (2:00AM) than usual.
I woke up 14 hours later to a living hell. I was
dizzy, coughing, feverish, felt like throwing up, my
voice was cracking--and that's all on top of the
massive civil war being waged deep in my bowels.
Absolutely sickening.
I had a few errands to run in town and this was quite
a task. I didn't have a debilitating fever, but it was
noticeable enough that I occasionally wobbled when I
walked and I was getting cold sweats. Real fun.
I stumbled back to my hotel room an hour later and
flopped right on the bed and to sleep.
And then my phone rang.
Groggy, I picked it up and--voice still miserably
cracking on every other word--answered.
It was the front desk. Now, I should probably explain
at this point that Brazilians don't speak a word of
English. And they've never even heard of French. So my
main mode of communication this whole trip has been
with my so-so Spanish, which many of them understand a
little bit--but not much.
After a few minutes, I got the gist, though. Although
I'd reserved my room for my entire trip, I'd been
paying week to week, just in case I decided to head
out elsewhere.
Well, turns out the incompetent, backstabbing bastards
at the front desk had just booked my room from the
27th on to someone who'd just paid cash for it without
checking with me first, so they were informing me that
I'll need to leave on the morning of the 27th!
Frankly, I thought that was #$^*&% @$%^ @#%^@$%^ @#%,
to say the least.
And, of course, now everything in Rio is completely
sold out for New Year's weekend, the busiest time here
after Carnival.
But I went back to sleep and figured I'd deal with it
later.
I felt much better when I woke up, and even regained
some of my appetite, which was encouraging. And then I
figured that maybe if I went out and danced off my
sickness, I'd feel even better.
Ha! (I know, I know--you're thinking "what an idiot!"
but it made perfect sense at the time)
You guessed it--dancing didn't help one bit. Back with
the dizziness and cold sweats (although, I must admit,
I still had fun). So I went back home early again
(2:30AM) and back to sleep.
Or, that was the plan. I ended up being delirious most
of the night, with those ultra-strange,
hyper-realistic dreams and nightmares you only get
with a fever.
Just when I thought it couldn't possibly get much
worse, I heard the dreaded "iiiiiiiiiiiiiiihh..." of a
mosquito, and my first thought was: Agh! Malaria!! I'm
doomed!!!
I waged a valiant World War III with the little beast.
And lost. Repeatedly. If you don't hear from me in the
next few days...
Anyway, I woke up feeling much better this afternoon.
Whatever caused my major indigestion is still there,
but dormant. It feels like there's a cement block
lodged in my bowels, but I figure it's bound to want
out sooner or later! (same thing happened to me in
Peru--must be a South American thing)
This afternoon it was warm and sunny outside, so I
went out to the beach to enjoy the healing effects of
the sun (dancing may not have worked, but a good
roasting might!)
And tonight I'm going to start looking for
alternatives to sleeping on the streets come New
Year's weekend--that isn't quite my cup of tea...
And then, back to the clubs! Har, har, har!
Intestinally,
Gabriel
