Where am I today? Calzadilla de Cuesas . . . or the middle of nowhere. Welcome to the meseta, where there is no google street view. Pictures instead:
Entry
36, December 30th,
2011
I
do not feel well today. Neither does Ernesto. We're calling it
quits at 18km.
Expenses,
Day 36
Albergue,
Dinner, Breakfast (Calzadilla de Cuesas): 19.50
Internet:
1.00
Total:
20.50
Trip
total: 822.41
Entry
37, December 31st,
2011
I
was violently ill last night. I'd been fighting some sort of
intestinal bug on and off for several days – last night it moved up
to my stomach. Finally I made myself vomit before dinner, hoping
that it was just indigestion, but I was unable to eat more than a
bite or two of lentils. At this point I began shivering
uncontrollably and the other members of the group began to notice
that I was ill.
I
was content lying on my bunk with a bunch of blankets and the trash
can, but Chan Hee appeared over me. The Master had an idea to solve my problem. Apparently there is a Korean folk
technique for dealing with stomach sickness, but she warned me that
it involved needles. I didn't care at this point, and our group
motto is “Master says, we do,” after all . . .
Which
is how I found myself sitting in an old plastic deck chair in the
center of the room wrapped in blankets with four Koreans buzzing
around me. The master took my hands, feeling how cold they were to
determine where the problem was. He manipulated the pressure points
between thumb and first fingers, which felt good, and then he and
Kwang-sik began beating violently on my back.
At
this point they told me not to look. I closed my eyes, feeling
slightly apprehensive as Michael (Kwang-sik's Western name) was humming tension music under his
breath, but mostly just too sick to care. The striking moved down my
right arm very quickly, and I felt a rubber band wrapped around the
base of my thumb. There was a sharp pain, left of the nail, and I
felt the Master squeezing out a few drops of blood before covering
the spot with a tissue.
The
pounding began again on my back. I looked around – the action had
attracted quite an audience. Ernesto: “I've never seen an exorcism
before.” Petra, our skeptical German hospitalera: “De problem iz
not wit hiz hand.” I closed my eyes as the procedure was repeated
on the other side.
Still
feeling miserable (and now oozing a bit of blood from both hands) I
was given a cup of special tea to drink. I finished the tea and laid
down to bed; Ernesto, with a certain prescience, moved the trash can
next to my head. “I'm pretty sure I know how this ends; I have kids, after all.” I had
forgotten that when someone says, “Here, drink this, it is good for
upset stomachs,” what they really mean is that is will make you
vomit explosively. Sure enough, when I laid down the change in
orientation was enough to send me right back to the bucket. Luckily
my vomiting technique remains as immaculate as ever . . . it was
coming form my mouth, nose and even eyes. I felt like my face was
dissolving – I felt lucky that it didn't come out of my ears as well.
After
that I slept. Sometime during the night I went from freezing cold to
boiling hot and vomited again. This morning, though, I woke up
feeling okay – if terribly dehydrated. We'll see how the day goes,
but water is staying down and I'm going to try some tea. Who knows,
I might even eat some bread today! Old medicines, effective?
Perhaps.
Later
The
only place open here in Sahagún is the hotel . . . twenty euro a
head but it can't be helped. Hopefully the restaurant I found works
out . . . it is
New Year's Eve, after all.
BRAT
diet today. So far so good.
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