This and that...

So I have been laying low and writing for the past few days.  The sun has been shining here and there, but we are in the thick of the rainy season now and there is daily rain as well.

We gringos are such an oddity in Chachapoyas.  To get here you must be determined and be willing to put up with a whole lot of inconvenience.  The most willing to put up with this seem to be the young, bohemian backpacker type.  This is greatly evident at Jose and Donnas new hostal which is teeming with grand travelers of the super low budget type.  Not that being part of that dynamic is a bad thing, but heavens they need some regular clothes and less scruffy appearances. 

Usually wearing a wildly diverging variety of clothing picked up from markets all over their travels, it leaves me wondering what they have done with the Jeans and t-shirts they no doubt started out with.  Multicoloured woven tunics, bolero pants, hiking boots, scarves… no wonder people stare at us.  My cargo pants, shirts and fuzzies blend in a bit more… but only marginally. 

And the things they talk about having done are escapades that maybe I would have attempted when I was young and naïve, but hearing a young blonde female thing talk about travelling the Darian Gap by herself?  Muling drugs for travel money like I heard a young gentleman promote?  Not likely.

Even as I type this at a local café’ there is a gringo at the next table drinking vodka with his coffee at 10 am while he skypes his mother about his lawyer keeping him out of jail and all the dangers he faces.  I bet his mom just loves those phone calls. 

My hostal hosts many more travelling Peruvians.  I can get my fill of backpackers by visiting Donna.

I must relate an incident at lunch the other day.  I was sitting waiting for my meal, making notes and observations, letting my mind wander and imagination roam.  I was interrupted when a group of Peruvian businessmen sat down at the table next to me.  This was a noteworthy sight because men in suits are in a minority here even more than Gringos. 

There they sat, middle aged and portly wearing identical looking black suits, starched white shirts and ties, cufflinks and gold watches their choice of bling.  This appearance was reinforced as they all took out their reading glasses to peruse the menu, and after placing their orders they proceeded to conduct their conversation sitting in mirror like postures.  Seated forward, hands folded neatly on the table in front of them they held discussions formally without pointing or gesturing at all.  Lunch was consumed, wallets out for payment, handshakes and goodbye.  Words coming to mind?  Sombre.  Stodgy.  Stuffy.  Humourless. 

But that comes from my laughter loving gringa self.  Sure was different from my everyday observations here. 

I keep thinking I’ll wander over to the land now that Manuel has it cleared, but am reluctant to fight my way through the mud.  Up and down the stairs is good enough for now. 

Found myself in the doctors office a couple of days ago and was given another glimpse into the medical minefield here.  I have been bothered for the past few weeks by persistent pain in my right calf.  When instead of easing it seemed to be spreading up into my thigh I thought it time to make sure I had not acquired a blood clot or anything nasty like that.

At 8pm I showed up for my appointment, was pointed upstairs to a set of chairs in a hallway outside a door with a small brass plaque affixed to the front.  A few minutes later up the stairs came the doctor, casually dressed and looking well fed.  He entered his office and a few moments later, hair combed and white coated he ushered me in. 

In true Chachapoyan manner and formal speaking respect Janet explained my situation.  There were pointed questions asked and up on the (less than hygienic) table I planted myself for his examination.  After testing for tenderness and looking for whatever telltale signs might have indicated a problem, he seemed far more interested in my slightly swollen ankles than anything else.  Took my blood pressure with a snazzy little wristlet type unit, asked me about ringing ears, flashing lights and headaches. 

How do you explain that ringing ears have been present for 10 years without sounding looney?   When asked about other pain how do you explain about 14 years worth of it without him wondering what the big deal is over calf pain? 

So no, no, no and no.  Because I really want an answer.  Diabetes? No.  High cholesterol? No.  His diagnosis?  He says my blood pressure is high and needs meds immediately.  “Could it be the altitude”?  No.   “What about the calf”?  No sign of trouble.   Forty Soles please. 

He writes out a prescription and I show him my meds list for interactions.  It is reassuring that he recognizes them and has some idea what they are for, secondary uses notwithstanding.  Off to the pharmacy where I buy the anti-inflammatories but opt out of the blood pressure meds until I research them.  Another thank you to Janet, and I am computer bound.

Thank you internet because everything he prescribed me interacts negatively with what I am already taking.  And the blood pressure thing?  Well the consensus is that it takes approximately 11.4 days for every 1000 meters above sea level to fully acclimatize, and I am at 2500 meters.  One of the hallmarks of altitude sickness?  High blood pressure. 

So I am still wandering around with a sore leg, none the wiser unfortunately. 

Back to writing…