The other side of travelling.

[Originally posted Dec 7, 2014]

(Sorry no photos, but the writing is decent).

Four nights ago I woke up to a river of liquid parading out of my left nostril.  I always think it odd that when a full-force runny nose hits me, it first attacks from a single nostril.  Aren't they connected?  I wonder back to my medical school days and ponder on the bizarre reality that in the past 4 hours of continually interrupted sleep I've attended to my left nostril a couple dozen times but my right nostril somehow, miraculously, appears to be untouched by the foreign pathogens invading my body.  I try to get some more sleep, and eventually realize that using an entire roll of toilet paper on a single runny nose might not be wise (diarrhea seems to always be right around the corner over here on the subcontinent) and so I resort to more imaginative methods of dealing with this river of a nose.

Morning comes and the day goes on as usual.  A trip to the train station to buy some train tickets - somehow we ended up buying tickets from Varanasi to Jodhpur and then another train from Jodhpur to Jaisalmer.  This would land us in the far west of the state of Rajasthan and would allow a 4-5 week cycle through Rajasthan, Agra and Rishikesh before returning to Delhi to catch a plane to Vientiane, Laos where our SE Asia journey will begin.  The only downside to this purchase is the now impending reality that we have 36 hours of non cycling travel ahead, 24 hours on the train to Jodhpur, 6 hour layover, 6 hours on the train to Jaisalmer.  Oh well.

That evening as we sat in a rickshaw, clunking through the busy traffic on our way back to our Hotel, I noticed a growing headache - which is strange for me - I usually don't get headaches and so attributed it to all the noise and mild dehydration (it's tough to remember to drink a lot when we aren't cycling, for some reason it's also hard to remember to shower).

By morning the headache was full force.  Pounding.  At this point I blamed Katy, she was sick the prior day and must have passed the bug on to me.  As the day rolled on body aches, a fever, chills and fatigue were the norm.  I slept mostly.  The accomplishment of the day was descending two flights of stairs to lay on some grass cause I was going crazy lying in that room.  That night I got online and did what medical students do best - speculate at possible diagnoses, create a differential diagnosis.

My differential diagnosis was 1) the flu/cold/viral illness 2) Malaria 3) Dengue Fever 4) Food poisoning 5) the wrath of Lord Shiva for not paying my devotion (and rupees) to the Sadhus.  Looking at the list closer I realized that #4 was unlikely - no stomach problems, that #3 was unlikely - I'd had dengue before and this felt different (thank goodness), and so that left #1 and #2.  So what to do?  The unfortunate truth is that malaria and the flu present with almost identical symptoms: fever, chills, headache, nausea and vomiting, body aches, general malaise - all symptoms common to the flu and malaria.  The runny nose suggested the flu or other viral illness, so did the fact that Katy was sick earlier this week (Malaria can't be spread by people) but that's the problem with medicine, there seem to be no definites, just likelihoods and probabilities.  Katy and I had been in rural Nepal and India, where Malaria is alive and well, and I was dealing with my fair share of mosquito bikes (I think I have 9 on my left kneecap) and so we were taking Malarone (malaria prevention) for the past week or so, but I felt terrible and couldn't imagine that the flu could knock me out like this.  The reasonable (and encouraged by Katy) next step would be to go to a hospital and get a blood test to check for malaria.  The test is done by putting some blood on a slide, adding a dye to stain the parasites (the causative organism of malaria, which is transmitted by mosquitoes) that live in your red blood cells--which means the test is only as good as the person performing the test.  But, medical school kicked in and I decided to investigate further.  The CDC lists acceptable treatments for malaria, depending on location and the prevalence of drug resistant organisms.  It just so happens that taking one Malarone pill a day is preventitive and 4 pills a day will treat an active infection.  Voila, just saved myself the hassle of sitting in a dirty hospital, getting poked with a needle and navigating the chaos of Varanasi while I felt like garbage.  So I began the extra doses, this way I'd cover my bases with the possibility of malaria and the flu should resolve on its own.  I'd also make a mental note to give 10 rupees to the next Sadhu I saw, and then I'd be set.

By morning I felt somewhat better.  But I was weak, hadn't eaten much in 36 hours.  But the headache was diminished.  Was it the medicine working?  Or was the flu passing from my system?  I don't know, I'm just glad my body was beginning to recover just in time for our 36 hour train adventure.

3pm.  Arrive at the train station to place our bike in "parcel" service to be transported in the luggage department.  We were a bit hesitant leaving our bike in the hands of others but, 36 hours later we collected the bike in Jaisalmer with only two what-are-you-thinking moments.  The first was when a man at the station with a paintbrush and a cut in half 2L Coke bottle filled with a vile black substance approached our bike.  He had been painting destination codes on the burlap and plastic coverings of other parcels.  His brush got within about an inch or two of Katy's seat when Katy grabbed his hand and laughingly said, Actually I'd prefer it if you didn't paint on my bike seat.  In a bit of arrogance and anger (it was a rough couple days), and because I knew the man didn't speak any English, I added, "yeah, that seat costs more than what you will make this month and we'd like to keep it as clean as possible."  (Sometimes I lose my patience, often when tired or sick, and other parts of my personality unfortunately shine through).  Then, 24 hours later, a parcel carrier refuses to allow Katy and I to walk our bike from the train to the parcel room and so we are walking behind him, making sure our bike gets off to the correct destination.  We reach a flight of stairs and the man, without hesitating, lifts the bike off the ground to balance it on his head to begin climbing the stairs.  Whoa, whoa, whoa there, I quickly shout, as I realized that our frame bag might not be the best place to carry the weight of our bike.  In America we carry things with our hands, let me help you out here, as I grabbed the bike and forcibly pushed it back down to the ground.

The first train left at 6pm and arrived the next day at 10pm.  Only four hours late, apparently due to the fog.  My favorite part of the ride was using the restroom, where human waste slides through an angled tube and splats onto the railroad tracks below, attracting the swine and rats for a nice easy meal.  Some people would think it is downright nasty, some claim it is an "environmentally friendly" way to dispose of feces/stool/crap/poo/shit, whatever you want to call it.  Katy is just happy that it is one less smell she has to worry about as she tries to sleep.  Then at 11:45pm it was back on the train, and another optimistic night of sleep, until we reached Jaisalmer, right on time at 5:35am.

Sick, tired, irritated.  Nothing that a couple pills, a good night sleep and 110km of hopeful desert solitude won't cure.