Packing starts today *sigh*

Five pairs of heels

Because I am coming off the tale end of a violent illness I have been both unable to blog and unwilling to acknowledge my trip is coming to an end. And because today marks five days before I depart Belize, and I feel loads better than I have for the last two days, I think it's time for me to add an entry and officially time for me to stop pretending I am a permanent resident and get to packing. Everything is everywhere...very much how it is at home. So...it's 6:30am, and after I write this, I'll start the process of filing the million receipts I've racked up, throwing away empty water bottles and packing all those heels I never wore.

Speaking of heels, Belize has been very very hard on all of the shoes I've worn. Because most of the roads aren't paved, I've been walking on rocks and pebbles and stones and dead lizards and whatever else. The soles on the brand new pair of old navy flip flops are just about gone. My Steve Madden Gladiator sandals don't look like I spent the money I did on them and the two pairs of ballet slippers I brought should probably never see the U.S. again. I could never walk around in DC with the way one of those pairs of shoes look.

The actual dock. Taken one week earlier

I'm sure you all want to know about this "violent illness." I put it in quotations because some people think I'm an over-exaggerator. But this was, indeed, violent. No trip to a Latin American/Caribbean country is complete without body aches, night sweats, a million trips to the bathroom, violent chills....oh, and a passing out or two. My passing out just happened to happen on my trip back from San Pedro to Belize City on Saturday. The boat stops at Caye Caulker, another island about thirty minutes out and as soon as we pulled up to the dock, I felt dizzy and queasy. I told one of the crew that I was going to be sick and then everything went blurry. They were trying to help me off the boat and I couldn't talk. They told me to sit down on the dock and I literally passed out....laid out all spread on the dock, legs and arms flailed. When I came to, I said..."I am so fucking embarrassed." 


I had to wait three hours for another water taxi, so I slept in a beach chair for the entire time, in the sun shade and was FREEZING. The other woman I traveled with gave me a scarf to tie around my arms (cuz who has a friggin sweater in Belize in July?). I tried to go into town to buy a sweater, got 10 paces from my chair and couldn't do it...turned around and went back to sleep.

Everyone asked if I wanted to go to the hospital, but of course I didn't. I didn't feel like waiting around a whole bunch of sick people, or paying the money it was gonna cost for someone to give me some damn Tums. I realized at 9:30pm that night, three hours after I returned from Belize City, that a doctor's visit was necessary when, after about my eighth trip to the bathroom, I was sweating harder than I ever had in the gym. The nurse told me my temperature was 102. They gave me an injection in my ass to bring down the fever (I have NEVER had a shot hurt so bad) and four Imodium AD pills


The aches, and chills and sweating subsided immediately after the shot....the headache, nauseau and dehydration started the next day. I could only eat Ramen noodles, and only ate two packs of those in a full 48 hour period. Sunday night I discovered I could drink tomato juice. I bought two cans. Monday, I ventured into real food--a salad--as my body is still rejecting all sights and smells of Belizean food. I said the word "Salbuta" aloud yesterday and it produced a gag response. Half of the salad came up the last half stayed down. I think I'm good today. 


So! There it is...I am officially a world traveler. I've been duly initiated into this special club of sickers. Now that I'm finally good it's time to start the process of filing the million receipts I've racked up, throwing away empty water bottles and packing all those heels I never wore.