Enfermo en El Salvador

#29

The bed in this way too overpriced room is comfortable. Fortunately it is. Because I’ve been laying in it since my arrival and will continue to do so. Air conditioning and a firm pillow. I doze off again.

Somehow I managed to survive the seven hours from Guatemala to El Salvador in a minibus without vomiting. If I wasn’t so set on being a divine sinner I’d thank some omnipotent force in the sky.

*

Upon waking up before the journey last night I knew I was in trouble. Profusely sweating, light headed, nauseous, shivering and weak. By pure luck the shuttle van was nearly empty and I was able to claim the window seat. The flow of the cold, fresh air saved my behind and the other travellers’ appetite.

In El Salvador I’m meeting up with an acquaintance living there that I met along the road a few months back. He shakes my shaking hand and we step out into the open air oven that is the climate of El Salvador.

Our first stop at a beach club is a short one. It’s everywhere I don’t want to be. A slice of pizza suffices to satisfy my nonexistent hunger and I head back to spend more quality time with my blankets and pillows.

The next day we drive out to San Salvador. A bite of a salad, a sip of disgusting coffee, a dress shirt covered in cold sweat. Everything going A-okay over here.

We pick up a friend of his and drive up a volcano overlooking the city. The view is nice, probably. I’m focusing on the inside of my sunglasses. Trying not to lose my consciousness whilst answering the questions his friend has for the foreigner: “Si”, “No”, “Holanda, muy lindo” - a born conversationalist.

We stop by his friend’s place and my power nap turns into an all-nighter.

From San Salvador we make our way east. Plans of going to the beach remain plans. The only surface my body will be laying on is a mattress and air conditioning prevails over sunshine.

That’s how the remainder of days in El Salvador is spent. The flagrant disappointment and annoyance is visible in his eyes. But I’m fairly sure my body isn’t doing it on purpose. So I do like my bowels and let it go. Solidarity…

After five days of having felt like and still feeling like utter crap patient V gets dropped off at the airport. Some more shivering, some hallucinations, until painkillers and the plane put my head in the clouds once more.

A layover in Panama, a drowsy second leg of the trip and I land in a city I know all to well.

Horns grow.

Eyes turn red.

Parents lock doors.

Hola, Medellín.

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