Sick in India. Such a Cliche.

Sick in India. Such a Cliche.

It started with one sneeze at dinner last night. After that when I returned to my room without clothes I realized that my nose was starting to flow like a leaking tap. Hmm, maybe I’m coming down with something. I appeared in several Nyquil and hoped for the best. When I started sleeping, I began to feel how strong the air conditioner was. The previous days had barely managed to ripple, but now he felt the fridge roaring. I think it might not be good for someone with a disease that is starting to climb. I reject it. As I slowly slipped into sleep, I pulled the blanket tightly around me, but the cold remained. I guess it was just a random winter night.

Throughout the night there will be some urgent signs to the bathroom. In the morning, the only thing that came out of my body was a yellow liquid, then clear. Add some stomach aches with fever and it’s official. I am sick in India. How corny.

I stumbled into the bright sunshine and sat at my favorite table
and ordered my usual breakfast: vegan pancakes, yogurt, fruit, muesli and a pot of chai. I will summon all my strength and strength through food and compare how it feels with previous days. I bite the pancake. Unexpectedly, the pancake felt very chewy and clogged my mouth when I tried to swallow. I switched to muesli with fruit and yogurt. I managed to consume half of the entire plate. Thinking that if I eat at a steady pace, I might be able to lower it before my stomach protests. But the protest ensued, with disgust and waves. I had to stop and go back to the pancakes, springy but at least bland. Even my beloved chai didn’t go down well.

I began to sweat from the effort of preserving food. I decided that I was done with yogurt. With a plate of fermented milk sitting in the sun for that long, even I knew it wouldn’t be good. Sanjay walked with a worried expression on his face. “Why not eat?” I must look as bad as I feel. I say my stomach is rather dead. He took yogurt and muesli. I continued to bite my pancake pathetically and sipped my chai. Sanjay returned and said that too much chai was also not a good idea and I had to return in an hour to drink the special hot honey lemon. WELL!

When I returned to my room, it felt like I was really stabbed in the stomach with a sharp spear and I fell into bed in pain. The bed feels comfortable and I curl up in a comfortable fetal position. The pain subsided and an hour later I walked back to the sunny deck to drink my lemon honey.

Sanjay is right. It goes down just fine and feels nutritious and restoring. As a solo traveler, it’s very convincing to have someone pay attention to me, even though it’s just a waiter. He said he had worked in this same restaurant for more than twenty years. I can only imagine how many sick westerners he had to see during that time. He is practically as good as the doctor in my book!

My plan for
Stuck in my room. Stuck in my room
Caught in my room
day has walked to Manikarnika Ghat and bargained for a boat ride across the Ganges to Ramnagar Fort. But now the idea has flown out the window. Luckily, I planned to be here in Varanasi for eight days. So I can spend a day or two while I recover from this disease. Today I will be a relative ascetic. Even so, one can never be a total ascetic in India, because there is always someone around him.

My room overlooked all the sights and sounds of the River Ganges. There is a rooftop terrace restaurant just a few steps from my door, I can see a boat taking all the colorful Hindu pilgrims out to the sacred stairs of the Ganges. I can hear all their chatter and commotion filtering through my window. Across the water was a stretch of dry river plain with a god who knew what was happening. Horses, camels, tents, travelers and dust.

One thought persisted as I sat shivering in bed at the end of my lonely day. Varanasi is a place where people with all kinds of incurable diseases come to die. Who knows what ferocious organisms are there and here. My fever went up past one hundred. Another long night awaited.

I woke up the next day on the second day of my illness. My stomach feels a little better. Even though my head remained cold and my fever when it was reduced it still clung. I work eating pancakes and dried muesli with the help of another hot lemon honey drink. But I could not understand everything and felt weak and faded.

I have to do some kind of activity. I cannot spend another day in Varanasi silent in my room. I decided to wander around the rabbit hallway behind my hotel and take some pictures of exotic landscapes. When I wandered, I began to sweat. It felt like I was hovering outside my body, like a kind of fever dream. There are cows that look scary. Blazing color palette. The air was filled with haze and often rays of light flowed into the corners of my eyes. Around him came strange voices. Eventually I was trapped behind a man pulling an old ox cart filled with propane cans. I am in a strange strange condition. That night I also forced myself to attend Aarti for 20 minutes. Back at the hotel I fell into a deep sleep sweating.