11 Jan 2010
Under a myriad of blankets, I woke up shaking all over. Katie was next to me, snoozing happily, and the heater was blaring from across the room. I knew I wasn't cold, certainly not cold enough to be shaking THIS hard. I decided that, despite all the warming conditions and a nice pair of thick socks, the uncontrollable trembling due to cold feet.
I fought the urge to search for a second pair of socks. I rubbed my feet together. I reached down and warmed them with my hands. I tried to convince myself to go back to sleep. I kept shaking.
I AM NOT SICK. I am WELL! I am the picture of health. I closed my eyes and imagined myself as a powerful rainbow of energy that could expel all illness from my system. Mind over matter. The aching is from this terrible mattress, the sore throat is from allergies, and the shaking is from my cold feet. I finally gave in and put on a second pair of socks and, eventually, drifted back to sleep.
A few hours later I woke up unbearably hot. Blankets and socks went flying. Katie was already awake and wanted to know what in the world was wrong with me. She had this half terrified, half worried face. My shivering night of tossing and turning had not gone unobserved.
“You're sick.”
“No, I'm not.”
“Yes, you are!”
“I don't know.” (A typical me response.)
“You don't know?”
“Well, I don't have a thermometer!”
“A thermometer?”
“Yeah, I don't know if I have a fever.”
“You don't have to have a fever to be sick. Do you feel sick?”
“I don't know.”
“How do you NOT know?”
“Uh... I don't have a thermometer! Do I feel sick?”
She felt my face. She felt her face. I felt my face. I felt her face. She felt my face, again. I felt my face, again. We felt each others' faces at the same time.
Katie decided that I was definitely sick and, when the opportunity best presented itself, she would look down my throat and Dr Mom diagnose me.
Breakfast was the next logical thing. We went back to Pegosa (the banana cake place) and had a delish brekkie. Fernando, our waiter, was really cool. Katie described him as one of those guys who isn't particularly handsome but is incredibly sexy. I thought he had a cool voice.
When we got outside into the sunlight Dr Mom took a look down my swollen throat. Apparently she could see some white patches. She decided that it looked like her daughters' throats when they had strep and that I would be better soon. I just needed some antibiotics and rest.
I decided that I have the dreaded Mexican Mountain Fever (Fiebre Mexicana Montaña). The only treatment for the Mexican Mountain Fever is an obscure ancient combination of roots and herbs. Chances were pretty good I would drop dead at any moment. I asked Katie to have me cremated and to hire Mariachis for my funeral. I also asked her to update my Facebook status to “Elizabeth died in Mexico.”.
We hit the Farmacia (pharmacy). This place was unreal. I felt like I had stepped back in time to the apothecary. There were shelves and shelves of ceramic jars with strange words written on them lining the walls behind the counter. For some bizarre reason I started to get really excited at the prospect of being mixed some ancient Mayan snake oil potion to cure my Mexican Mountain Fever.
I did my best to describe my symptoms, in Spanish, to the tiny lady behind the counter. She listened very intently. I was sure that in her mind she was running through her catalog of ancient potions and deciding which would best help this poor little gringa.
When I had finished my Spanglish rant/interpretive dance she slipped into the back room. She almost immediately returned with two very unimpressive white 'straight from the factory' boxes. One with a fever reducer/pain reliever and one of amoxicillina (antibiotic). So much for my ancient Mayan remedy. o.o
Under a myriad of blankets, I woke up shaking all over. Katie was next to me, snoozing happily, and the heater was blaring from across the room. I knew I wasn't cold, certainly not cold enough to be shaking THIS hard. I decided that, despite all the warming conditions and a nice pair of thick socks, the uncontrollable trembling due to cold feet.
I fought the urge to search for a second pair of socks. I rubbed my feet together. I reached down and warmed them with my hands. I tried to convince myself to go back to sleep. I kept shaking.
I AM NOT SICK. I am WELL! I am the picture of health. I closed my eyes and imagined myself as a powerful rainbow of energy that could expel all illness from my system. Mind over matter. The aching is from this terrible mattress, the sore throat is from allergies, and the shaking is from my cold feet. I finally gave in and put on a second pair of socks and, eventually, drifted back to sleep.
A few hours later I woke up unbearably hot. Blankets and socks went flying. Katie was already awake and wanted to know what in the world was wrong with me. She had this half terrified, half worried face. My shivering night of tossing and turning had not gone unobserved.
“You're sick.”
“No, I'm not.”
“Yes, you are!”
“I don't know.” (A typical me response.)
“You don't know?”
“Well, I don't have a thermometer!”
“A thermometer?”
“Yeah, I don't know if I have a fever.”
“You don't have to have a fever to be sick. Do you feel sick?”
“I don't know.”
“How do you NOT know?”
“Uh... I don't have a thermometer! Do I feel sick?”
She felt my face. She felt her face. I felt my face. I felt her face. She felt my face, again. I felt my face, again. We felt each others' faces at the same time.
Katie decided that I was definitely sick and, when the opportunity best presented itself, she would look down my throat and Dr Mom diagnose me.
Breakfast was the next logical thing. We went back to Pegosa (the banana cake place) and had a delish brekkie. Fernando, our waiter, was really cool. Katie described him as one of those guys who isn't particularly handsome but is incredibly sexy. I thought he had a cool voice.
When we got outside into the sunlight Dr Mom took a look down my swollen throat. Apparently she could see some white patches. She decided that it looked like her daughters' throats when they had strep and that I would be better soon. I just needed some antibiotics and rest.
I decided that I have the dreaded Mexican Mountain Fever (Fiebre Mexicana Montaña). The only treatment for the Mexican Mountain Fever is an obscure ancient combination of roots and herbs. Chances were pretty good I would drop dead at any moment. I asked Katie to have me cremated and to hire Mariachis for my funeral. I also asked her to update my Facebook status to “Elizabeth died in Mexico.”.
We hit the Farmacia (pharmacy). This place was unreal. I felt like I had stepped back in time to the apothecary. There were shelves and shelves of ceramic jars with strange words written on them lining the walls behind the counter. For some bizarre reason I started to get really excited at the prospect of being mixed some ancient Mayan snake oil potion to cure my Mexican Mountain Fever.
I did my best to describe my symptoms, in Spanish, to the tiny lady behind the counter. She listened very intently. I was sure that in her mind she was running through her catalog of ancient potions and deciding which would best help this poor little gringa.
When I had finished my Spanglish rant/interpretive dance she slipped into the back room. She almost immediately returned with two very unimpressive white 'straight from the factory' boxes. One with a fever reducer/pain reliever and one of amoxicillina (antibiotic). So much for my ancient Mayan remedy. o.o
Next we shopped a bit and Katie tried to teach me how to play 'good cop'/'bad cop' so that we could team haggle. I told her that I had played some version of this back home and that I always seemed to be the 'good cop'. Lucky for me she was used to being 'bad cop' so once again we proved to be the very best of travel buddies!
We went back to the store where I got my awesome fingerless gloves. I got a rainbow toboggan to go with my gloves and got a much better price than the first time. The lady actually looked a bit shocked when I told her how much I had paid for the gloves. “AQUI!?” (“HERE?!”) she had exclaimed. I nodded a bit sheepishly.
We hit a couple more shops and in one I noticed an older America woman struggling to communicate with the Mexican shop girl. I tried to mind my own business and stay out of it but, in the end, I stepped in. The lady had this... really... uh... UGLY tacky watch that had been given to her by a friend for Christmas. She, of course, loved it. The watch didn't work and she wanted them to fix it or give her an exchange. The shop girl said they didn't have anymore like it and that they couldn't fix it. The lady wanted the store to pay for it to be repaired (yeah, RIGHT). The girl offered to let her exchange it for another watch but the lady was so in loved with this ugly tacky watch that in the end she decided to get it fixed on her own dime, if it wasn't too costly. If it was expensive she would come back and exchange it on Friday. The lady literally didn't know a word of Spanish (she couldn't even say “Friday”). I was doing my best to translate this exchange and the shop girl kept giving me these sneaky little sarcastic looks when the lady was saying things that were clearly a little nuts. I felt very 'in the loop'. It was fun!
When my translation job was over the lady and I chatted for a moment. I asked her where she was from and... to my absolute shock... she lived IN SAN MIGUEL... for the last SIX YEARS. There was really no reason at all why that lady shouldn't be at least intermediate with Spanish. San Miguel de Allende is definitely an English friendly town, and there are tons of ex pats from all over living there, but Spanish IS everywhere and most of the shop keepers we spoke to barely spoke English! I guess people will learn what they want to.
We made out way back to the room and I had a quick nap. Left at noon and decided to grab the bus back to Querétaro (Q) and then on to Atlacomulco (A). We figured 40 minutes from SM (San Miguel) to Q then 2 and a half hours from Q to A. We needed to be at the University at 4. HA. HA. HA. HA. HA.
The taxi ride from Q to SM on Saturday had only taken about 40 minutes. The bus ride from SM to Q took over AN HOUR AND A HALF. We took the SAME bus company we had taken from Toluca, Primera Plus. This time it was NOT so fancy! No snack, no leg rest, no fancy bathrooms... just a regular old stinky charter bus. This bus seemed to stop by every other random ditch up and down the mountain to, as Katie said, 'pick up strays'. The bus even picked up and dropped off school kids along the way.
The one bright spot of that mule train was Donna. Katie and I just so happened to meet another ESL Linguist on the bus! She was Australian (awesome) and a back packer (awesome) and very fun to talk to. If I hadn't been dying from my Mexican Mountain Fever I probably would have chatted with her all the way to Q. Instead I mostly napped.
We finally made it to the bus station in Q. We were a bit panicked. I rushed off the bus and asked the first official looking person where I could catch a bus to A. I had it in my head that there would be a bus there just waiting to sail away. The guy pointed us out to one and we rushed to it. In Spanish, Katie asked the guy if it was a direct bus to A. He said no. She asked him again. He still said no. She asked him a third time. Surprisingly enough... the answer was STILL no. He told us that there weren't any DIRECT buses to A. She sighed despondently and bought tickets. The tickets were CHEAP and the bus was slightly dodgy, kinda dirty, and lacked a toilet. We sat down and resolved ourselves to starvation (since we had missed our expected Primera Plus snack and the food bag was looking a little sad). The bus didn't move. The bus continued to not moved. I asked the driver when we were leaving and he said we had about 10 minutes.
Good thing we frantically rushed to the first bus. =P
I went into the station and bought us a plate of tacos, some water, and some Marias (vanilla cookies).
Before the bus left the station a man came tromping down the aisle selling tortas, followed by a man selling CDs, followed by a very charismatic man, with an entirely too fast spiel, hocking pens (the only part I caught was that these pens were great gifts for boys and girls!)
The bus took off and went at an acceptable pace. I got some pronunciation lessons from native speakers (I'm still not 100% sure I am saying Atlacomulco correctly. At-l-ow-cool-mull-co? At-lu-co-mul-co?... Who knows.. Katie says the trick is just to say it really quickly and act like you are sure that you are saying it correctly). Somewhere along the way I managed to dump the left over cheese from the tacos all over myself and Katie.
For the last 45 minutes of the trip Katie kept insisting that we were in A. She would look out the window at a cluster of mountains and declare, “I know those mountains! We are here!”. I would look out the window and see a sign that indicated that we were not and tell her so. We would pass through a town and she would say, “I know those shops! We have to be in Atloc.” I would read the back of the taxis (which had their home town written on them) and tell her that I was pretty sure we weren't). At one point she was very sure we were passing the road that lead to the University and thought maybe we should get off the bus and taxi back. Three towns later we were glad we hadn't. In her defense most of the mountains and small towns looked... the same. =D
Eventually we made it. Dirty, road hard, unwashed, covered in cheese, sick, harried, and later than I am going to admit... we made it. The students were STILL THERE. The class went very well. The students are language teachers who teach ESL or Masaga (a local language) and everything from Elementary up to Adults. They were fun, eager, participatory, and seemed impressed with our class. Katie and I had created an activity together and it went BEAUTIFULLY. (That made me very happy.)
By the time class was over I was starving, sick, and tired. We stopped by a taqueria on the way home and got some delicious tacos al pastor. I also got some soup that was... uh... weird. I think it had intestines in it. I'm all for trying new things but I really just wanted a nice hot cup of comfort soup. In fact... I am going to go get some right now! Thanks for reading!
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