Rest, recovery & parasites in Cusco

I woke up around 7.30am and immediately saw Susie wasn’t in her bed. Alarmbells were immediately ringing, she must have been kept in the hospital overnight. I didn’t even know which one she had gone to. I willed myself to get out of bed in the freezing cold room, have a shower and lug myself up to reception to find out where she was.

The receptionist(s) were absolute legends all day, the first one called around some mysterious tourist register and worked out she was in Clinica Paredes. He also found out she had a tummy bug, not altitude sickness.

As Susie had taken the key with her, I spent the morning editing photos, replying to emails and updating my blog. By midday I had made contact with her, packed her a bag of things she needed (or might need) – spare changes of clothes, a specially requested bottle of Sprite, contacts and headphones. I marched through town and found her looking quite worse for wear, hooked up to an IV in a hospital bed.

There was only one doctor who spoke English, being kept busy with tourists brandishing insurance papers in the emergency room. So I did my best with fractured Spanish to tell the nurse Susie was still nauseas.

After a while, I left her to nap in the afternoon while I went to the coffee museum for a flat white and salad. I then bought a few necessary items for our upcoming treks, like gloves. As I was doing that, a huge parade started across the square. It was the festival of Saint Peter and Paul, and there were some very interesting costumes – gorilla suit and thigh-high satin boots?

I returned to the hostel, and a second helpful receptionist called the clinic, discovering Susie had a parasite in her stomach before she knew herself. I messaged her and to let her know the news. The doctor also said she would need to stay another night. That didn’t bode well for our 8am trek to the Sacred Valley.

I returned to Susie around 5.30pm as the festival was really taking over the streets. Combined with all the tourists returning from their tours, there was a solid gridlock around San Pedro market. I brought her pyjamas, laptop and few more bits and bobs. The taxi ride and trying to locate the English doctor really pushed me to use all the Spanish I knew. Then I walked home (it was quicker than a taxi with the festival) and started packing both of our bags.

At 8pm the receptionist called the English speaking doctor who was starting her shift, to find out that they were now treating the bug and Susie could return in the morning.

I made a stirfry for one in the strange hostel kitchen that contained only one pan. A little paranoid about parasites, I fried it to smithereens, but it still tasted delicious. Up in the lobby I met Lydia (the kiwi from Blenheim) who had survived her Rainbow Mountain trek with less than 12 hours acclimatisation (although she said she felt like her head was going to explode), and American Alex who had successfully found an open and operational Western Union after three attempts.