Friday, November 20 – Finisterre
Warning: this post contains descriptions of emesis.
Last night was awful. I felt ill while I was eating the pulpo, but I forced myself to continue, because I needed to eat food if I was going to walk to Finisterre. I didn’t really think that I would actually get sick. Apparently I got food poisoning.
A few hours after I ate I threw up the first time. An hour later I threw up again. When I woke up at 1:30 to vomit again, this time I didn’t know which end it was going to come out of, so I sat on the toilet and threw up on the bath towel. There’s that horrible sensation right before you get sick, where you get cold, and your arms and legs feel very heavy, and then the shakes and sweating start. Rinse, and repeat. Again at 3 and again at 5. By this point I knew I would not be walking to Finisterre in the morning.
At 8 I went downstairs to tell the hostess what had happened and to see if I could get some juice to see if I could keep that down. I had thrown up both plain water and electrolytes during the night. Instead, she asked if I would like an infusion made out of thyme. She said it was good for the stomach. I said yes.
I kept it down, which I took as a good sign. I went back to bed, and actually managed to sleep for a couple of hours. I had breakfast right around 11, which I kept to fruit and juice.
The hostess was so nice. I felt so bad for disgusting towels I left in the shower, but I didn’t really know what else to do. She called a taxi for me and let the driver know I was sick and might need to stop along the way.
His name was Eduardo, and he was very nice, but didn’t speak English. I tried to make a little conversation, so I tried to remark that traveling by taxi was much, much, much faster than I had been traveling by foot for the past 2 months. But my Spanish is non-existent, and I don’t think he really understood what I was saying. I said it was “mas muchas rapido que caminar,” and he looked at me and said, “si,” then sped up.
I’m prone to car sickness. With the windy roads and the smell of the old car, I didn’t stand a chance. I knew halfway there that I wasn’t going to make it without vomiting again. I almost did make it. Shortly before Finisterre I told him to stop, jumped out, and dry heaved a few times but nothing happened. I thought I was in the clear. About 2 minutes later we got into town, and it was the stopping and starting that did it. This time when he stopped, there was no grass to run to, so I just opened the door and vomited out into the street. 4 times. We were on a bit of an incline, so the pineapple chunks sat there while the orange juice ran down the street.
Two more turns and we were at my hotel.
It’s actually a pension, so the people who run it aren’t there all the time. You call the number and they come and let you in. Eduardo called for me.
I took a shower and was in bed at 1:30. I stayed there for a few hours, then went to the grocery store. I quickly recognized the place where we had stopped so I could throw up. I was right in front of the grocery.
I got a bunch of clementines, bananas, apples, and some crackers and muffins. There’s no breakfast at the pension either.
It was cloudy, cold, and rainy, so I spent the evening in. I will try to go to the lighthouse and see the sunset tomorrow. I think it’s supposed to be more clear.
I ate a bunch of fruit and crackers, and I think I will keep it all down.
Not how I wanted to arrive in Finisterre, or how I wanted to spend my first night here, but it is what it is.