It’s all so exotic at first,
especially when you’re at home,
reading about it in your slippers,
sipping a cup of your favorite chai
with just the right amount of honey.
Then, after months of prepping
and gathering the list of what to bring:
supplements, art supplies, the right shoes,
a good hat, not to mention clothes for each
type of weather you will encounter,
you are suddenly there.
Listening to the birds outside the mountain
cabin window. Watching rain pummel
the lush landscape before your eyes.
Noticing the neighbor cows just below
the window and seeing the city
sparkle and twinkle like a field of diamonds
when night falls.
You ride the adrenaline rush for the first
week, excited that you manage to purchase
groceries in another language and you figure
out how to catch the bus, more importantly,
where to get off. You even get money
before everything closes on Sunday,
because this is a Catholic country
and Sundays are still sacred.
You feel accomplished with the little things.
You boil water every day to make it
drinkable, even though your AirBnB
host told you it’s safe to drink and no one
has gotten sick before.
You’re feeling good. You even eat some street food
given to you by your mural tour guide.
Though you feel the flicker of hesitation
because you haven’t washed your hands
and you forgot THAT detail: hand sanitizer.
But so far so good, so you pop the warm,
round ball of sweet fried something
into your mouth. Delicious.
You vow to buy some vegetables,
because, well, we all need veggies right?
The afternoon you go to the store, you play
chicken with the pelting rain and seem
to stay dry. Gracias a Dios.
Excited for the stir-fry you’re going to make
you wash the veggies in the tap water. “If
they can drink it and not get sick, surely
I can wash vegetables in it and be fine,”
you tell yourself.
The stir-fry is delicious filled with broccoli,
carrots, onions and garlic with some chunky
sausage tossed in. Yum.
A long, dead-to-the-world nap ensues.
The kind where you can’t move your body.
Later that evening, after the second round
of stir-fry you feel your belly rumble, your belly
poofs out, you suddenly feel exhausted.
Could it be?
You head to bed, stomach rumbling, not because
you’re hungry, but crampy rumbling. Then,
lo and behold, La Tourista comes to visit
with a vengeance. And she cleans you out.
She flattens you to the ground, body limp
as a leaf after a snowy winter.
There is nothing to do but surrender, drink
water, sleep, wait and see. You think of your
cozy home, your warm bath, your perfect
set up and hope you’ll find your rhythm
here in this new land of wild rains
and plethora of new bacteria!
