Last time I was this sick, I was on route from Nepal to London – a harrowing 24 hour journey made all the worse by the deadened senses, the dull ache and the struggle to breathe that is the flu. I don’t know if it was the impending travel that my body disliked, but I was certainly feeling the effects, despite buying some ‘Bach’s Rescue Remedy’ which promised to ‘Restore that positive feeling!’ and ‘Comfort and reassure!’. Trust me, after days of cash machines freezing my cards, flight changes, hostels moving my booking across town and not telling me until I’d arrived very tired, very late; trying to sort out bungles with transfers and accomodation in Kenya (and those the least of my concerns) – I needed all the positive outlook I could get, hell I was gulping the stuff down.
My positive outlook and I spent dawn in London Paddington cursing ticket machines; mid-morning in Frankfurt practising swahili with the african security guard who was supposed to be drug testing my menthol chest rub; late afternoon in Cairo cursing baggage handlers who told me of my luggage ‘six down, relax. It will come’ (It did, I didn’t) and arrived in Nairobi, Kenya, dawn of the following morning, so tired I thought if I got mugged or lost I wouldn’t even care.
Thankfully it wasn’t the case – my driver was waiting for me at the airport and made sure I checked into my hotel safely, the hotel staff were lovely and even had a security guard escort me to the ATM and back when it was light, and I managed to sleep all day and felt a little better. Kenya was winning points all around.
-Sarah
Sarah