HIPAA Don't Lie
Bienvenido a Colombia!!! 2019/2020 South America trip continued...
Okay so on the night meant to be my last in Peru I did go to a Chilis. I was upset and getting a little homesick. It wasn’t meant as an affront to the lovely local restaurants, it was meant to snub white hipsters. And above all— meant to comfort me. Before leaving for South America, my boyfriend and I got into the worst fight of my life. Traumatic for us both. Felt like he instigated it because I was leaving. He was a strong cheerleader for my decision to take this solo trip but once it came time he was acting out violently. It seemed clear we should discontinue dating, but he agreed to store my furniture and art while I was gone. I’d given up my apartment and most of my possessions aside from these few treasures. We were living together until the fight. My last night in Florida, despite all the combat, we held each other and kissed through snotty noses and sobs. “It means a lot to me… to be able to do this for you.” He said to me multiple times in multiple ways. I had been gone for over a month now. It wasn’t until I felt homesick, started looking at apartments ads for when I go home, and mentioned this to him that I got the hard news. He had given everything away to Salvation Army without warning me. I’d have to start from scratch when I return… completely refurnish my life. And I’d have to explain to my mother that I trusted the wrong person with our family’s belongings. At least he held on to the art.
I don’t drink much at all so one Presidente Margarita did the trick. I clambered back into my bunk and double checked my flight for the next day… 5:45…. okay… I passed out. When I woke with the sun, I immediately knew the error of my ways. Military time you drunk fool!! The realization hit quicker than knowing where I was or who I am… I fucked up and missed my flight. My emotional drunken stupor when it’s easy to make mistakes was so night and day from my sober morning understanding. It’s almost like I self-sabotaged. To add insult to injury, I woke with the crud. Congestion in my chest and head with a sore throat. Around lunch my roommate came in and caught me teary eyed. Another hostel without privacy curtains. She was a 60-year-old Brazilian woman and every time she walked into the room her hands were full of designer shopping bags. I admired her since the first time I laid eyes. She set the most recent batch on the floor and rushed over to tend to me.
She asked me what was wrong then asked me not to cry. “Let me help you.” I answered her with a half-truth not wanting to burden her. “I woke up too sick to catch my flight! It’s okay, I just hate being sick while away and wasting money.” “Gripe!!” she exclaimed. She left for the communal kitchen and came back with a mug of hot honey tea. Said she’d go out for lemons later even though I protested. That’s the thing about love. You may not get it from who you’re giving it to but if your eyes are open, you’ll see it come back from other sources. It’s never in vain. It’s more than enough. I’m forever grateful for the kindness of strangers, especially while I’ve been in foreign lands for the first time.
At the pharmacy in Peru, the pharmacists ask about your symptoms like doctors then fetch the best cures behind their counters. At least in this one. After explaining my ailments, she said “gripe!!!” and came back with some Peruvian Sudafed and Emergen-C. My walk back was illuminated with more Christmas lights. Possibly the most picturesque way to experience the Plaza de Armas and Cathedral. Lima is a beautiful city year-round but decorated for holidays is an extra special sight. Hoping some fresh salt air would do me good, I walked to see one last sunset over the ocean. After finding some hot food to coat my throat, I made sure to buy a sweater made from llama fur at the market. Everyone gets one and I had planned to ever since noticing them back in Bolivia. This would probably be my last chance before crossing back into the northern hemisphere. To think I almost missed my chance at the llama fur sweater!!! Worth missing my flight… I sheepishly lie to myself.
My original plan was to complete my trip overland all the way from San Pedro de Atacama Chile up to Cartagena Colombia. The coup in Bolivia forced one flight already. Now I had to decide where I wanted to be for Christmas day and New Year’s Eve. Like I said, I was also getting homesick. Panicking now about making sure I return with enough money to buy something to sleep on. I read about each country and major city’s holiday traditions and rituals to determine my next choice. Colombia seemed like a winner, so I adjusted my entire plans to fly there. The Caribbean coast for Christmas and for NYE the Salsa capital of the world- Cali. Purchasing another flight made me feel extra sick though.
I flew out the next day thinking I felt better until cabin pressure set in. It’s not just a dick move to fly sick, it’s painful. The added pressure on top of sinus pressure made me wonder if I’d make it there alive or explode like a bird in the plane propellors. I booked a private room to quarantine myself and avoid endangering anyone else. Days went by, I kept my blackout curtains drawn veiling my ocean view. I couldn’t take it though… the sunlight… my head hurt worse than it ever had in my life. Nothing was helping. Thank God this place had free room service. Sadly though, even in a 4-star hotel, there were no hot showers. Visions of a steamy private shower were what got me through the rest of the flight here. I know I am lame to complain.
One day I decided I needed medical intervention in order to get back to my life. There was an urgent care type place just a few blocks away. As I trudged over, I thought “I’ve suffered enough. I deserve a hott doctor who will cure me.” I shifted on my crinkling deli paper nervously as Dr. Villanueve entered the room. Amazing. Gorgeous. Million-watt smile. Tall. Gentle. I used to mock manifestation until now. I accidentally teared up while telling him how bad my head hurt and he ordered a nurse to give me a shot of tramadol in my butt cheek. I had never received medicine this way, but I surely felt pretty swell after that. I apologized for getting misty eyed and he asked if I was here by myself. Yes, and I’m lonely!!!! I wanted to blurt out… but I kept it at meek “yes.” “You need a friend!” he shot back and took my phone to add his number in WhatsApp. Ohhhh my goodness. I’m marrying a handsome Colombian doctor, aren’t I??
Dr. Daniel Villanueve and I texted all night. He sent a shirtless selfie showing off his ripped abs. A true Adonis. I sent a picture of myself in the hotel’s rooftop jacuzzi. “You don’t look sick at all” he teased “really really well. You look reallly well.” Is that your professional opinion??? (I know I’m a corny hack but I’m transparent about it and it’s working, let me be.) Even the jacuzzi was cold so I told him how heartbroken I was that I couldn’t take my long hot shower. He laughed at me saying this is Cartagena, it’s hot all year, why do you want hot water?? We made plans to get drinks on Christmas day. “Are you sure I should be drinking on these antibiotics?” ………. “It will be good for you, it’s okay.” My sister is married to a doctor, so I told her what was happening. She said her husband was shocked at how forward this man was with a patient. “We’re not supposed to do that….” Well, this isn’t USA baby this is Shakira’s homeland. HIPAA doesn’t exist here. Hips don’t lie. Who am I kidding, I have no hips whatsoever, hahaha.
We flirted night and day. On Christmas morning I woke to a message in all Spanish. Strange because we previously used all English. My translation couldn’t be what I thought it was, so I hurriedly copy pasted it in a translating app. “Daniel is my fiancé. We are engaged to be married. Do not message him again. Stay away.” I don’t know why I chose to get defensive in this moment the best thing to do would be as she said. “I’m so sorry, I was just trying to make friends.” I selfishly thought of how my holiday was ruined, how I centered my day around meeting him just to get clowned. Then I mentally slapped myself out of it and remembered how ruined her holiday must be. Great I feel sick all over again. A few hours later he replied in English… “What do you mean, of course we’re friends? Can’t wait to see you again later.” It occurred to me she must’ve deleted the texts she sent so I provided a screenshot for him. “Whaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!” was the last thing he said to me before we both fell silent for good.
My emotions were such a mixed bag. Not heartbroken though… I found myself laughing hysterically at it all. On top of the guilt and disgust and the slight disappointment of being alone for Christmas. It was dark but it was funny. Finding humor in it was the best gift I could give myself at that point. I’ve never been boy crazy and the only mention of them in my stories is because of how everyone responded about my travels in the first place. Friends, family, coworkers and people I didn’t even know would either reference the horror movie Hostel or Taken OR they’d mention romance like Eat Pray Love. Under the Tuscan Sun even got mentioned. My brother-in-law said “maybe you’ll meet Señor Direcho.” Since I was nearing 30 everyone was way more concerned about “Mr. Right” than I was. Those that knew me best quite possibly were eager for me to move on from my ex-boyfriend as well. Every “romantic” proposition so far was a joke and I was done laughing.
Men are just punchlines in my travel stories, the climaxes are all me. I decided to move across town and take myself to dinner. Cartagena is largely split into two distinctly different city sections. Boca Grande, where I was staying, is mostly comprised of white skyscrapers. The Old City or Walled City is down the road and conversely, bursting with color from behind its colonial fortress. A gorgeous seaside diptych. I left my fancy isolation for vibrant communal hostels, street art, parks with sloths and the best food in town. I ate my Christmas dinner the same place Anthony Bourdain ate when he visited. I walked all night listening to music and looking at lights. Always loved Christmas lights in warm locations. Christmases in Florida were nice that way too.
What an adventure. Killing me with that doctor!!!!