For those of you who pine for Partout to occasionally ditch the reportorial voice and dive into the down and dirty of how Doris and Louis survive living out of suitcases for months on end, this one’s for you: the sickening, the creepy and the refreshing.
We traveled five months last winter without either of us having even a sniffle. This adventure has not been nearly as perfect, mostly for Doris, who developed a mysterious and icky case of chronic nausea about half-way through our four-day train trip.
When it started, we assumed the ick was motion sickness (to which she is prone) but, more than a week after leaving the train, she was still waking up nauseated every day. Since morning sickness was not in the cards, she began googling possibilities like “nausea as a symptom of mosquito-borne disease” and other dire explanations.
One morning in Cuenca, we went on a walking tour that coincided with shaman day in the central market. Catholicism put down roots in South America without completely squeezing out pre-Columbian beliefs and practices, including shamanism (“belief in an unseen world of gods, demons, and ancestral spirits responsive only to the shaman”). In Cuenca, on Fridays and Tuesdays, curanderos from the countryside take up position in the public market so customers can bring their ills to be cured.
The process begins with the patient (many of them the children of worried parents) being beaten lightly all over with bundles of medicinal herbs. Next, a raw egg is rubbed all over the body to locate the unseen agent causing the problem.
After this, the egg is broken so the shaman can identify the source of the problem. Satisfied, the curer spits on the customer to expel the source of infirmity. Voila (for lack of a translation). All better, though, ideally, the process requires three applications.
Doris seriously considered giving it a try but was put off by the spitting part. A few days later, she was tempted again in Quito by a variation that started with the herbal beating but ended with a cup of tea made from the herbs. This sounded much more appealing, but we ran out of time. Until the next shaman, she soldiers on, self-treating with motion sickness pills she buys from local pharmacies for 20 cents each and mostly improved without the spit. Still, a drag.
Also under the heading of “sickening” for some of our fur-loving friends: We did consume the obligatory guinea pig in Ecuador, a treat for which families keep dozens, even a hundred of the creatures, on hand at all time. Even Doris, whose pet history includes Elvis the guinea pig, found the critter tasty.
Five earthquakes in eight weeks feels like a lot, even to Doris, who grew up in California. The last one was the biggest of either of our experiences: 7.5. While it was maybe a couple hundred miles away, it still seemed to go forever. Having arrived at our mountainside perch well after dark, Doris especially fretted about the possibility of our cabin being shaken off its slope into the void.
Blessedly, earthquakes being what they are, everything was back to normal within two minutes, other than the bananas that were still swaying in the windless pre-dawn outside our door.
Creepier was word that a Russian tourist was murdered by robbers walking with his wife from dinner to their hotel in Quito on the same night we were there before leaving on the train. We have been unable to learn exactly where or under what circumstances (e.g., whether the couple was wearing bling, flashing money, resisting demands for their valuables). Louis, who has ducked more bullets and bombs than some soldiers, tends to shrug off news like this; Doris, the fretter of the duo, gets creeped out. Not enough to stop traveling, mind you, but enough to be happy to say goodbye to big cities for a while.
People sometimes ask how we manage to live together 24-7 for months on end without killing one another. In all honesty, it can be a challenge. You know all those annoying little (or not-so-little) habits your dear one has that you can escape at home? Escape is not so easy on the road.
Our first resort is laughter. A lot of what seems annoying can be funny if we can stop being annoyed long enough to find the humor in one partner coming unglued over the surprise of paying $20 to print a boarding pass (?!?) or the other going into a frenzy about running late when his watch stopped telling time accurately weeks ago.
The second resort is that tried-and-true parenting trick: time out. One or both of us will wander off in different directions for a few hours to return with a refreshed take on the world, including each other.
Keeping company with others is also a great antidote for too-muchness and just plain fun and enlightening. While in Cuenca, we reached out through our house exchange site to two fellow sets of home exchangers, who both graciously met up with us for drinks, dinner and even a custom hike through the nearby national park. We are still savoring those memories.
When none of these completely do the trick, we know it is time to put on the brakes, get off the road, put sightseeing on hold, take a deep breath, recenter. That is what we have been doing for the last five days in our hillside retreat. This is what the respite looks like, if you haven’t seen the pictures on Facebook.
This is what the respite has done for Doris’s resting heart rate.
Doris has an old friend who used to be an ultra-marathoner (technically more than 26.2 miles, but his ran more like 50 miles). When she asked him how he held up for so many hours, he used to say, “If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.”
Ultimately, that’s the best motto for living out of suitcases for months on end, maybe for even more.
FROM THE PARTOUT TOOLBOX:
Making friends on the road turns out to be the travel trick that enriches. We went through Homeexchange.com to find friendly folks in Cuenca because we know home exchangers have common interests and tastes and these guys looked interesting. In Medellin, we found an expats meetup group. After our shaman walking tour, we went to lunch with a delightful young international couple. For all the occasional creepiness, the world is mostly a friendly place.
The internet makes it surprisingly easy to connect with fellow travelers of all kinds if sharing the road makes it more enjoyable, even for the occasional hour.
COMING SOON: Jewels of the Crown (and Others)
12 thoughts on “From the TMI Department”
Aaaaah. . . . . what an informative and enjoyable post. I’m one of those who kept tugging on your shirt sleeve about the “real story” of just how you manage the partnership with so much else going on. Thank you for letting us know! I can easily imagine all of your strategies, especially the laughter part — so easy with you two. Whatever it takes, I hope the tummy subsides and you are back to your sparking self pronto. Looking forward to whatever you have in store for us! Love, love!
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Hio Doris and Louis,
What a story!
And what a relief that you are feeling better now Doris.
Your hillside retreat looks absolutely fabulous.
Happy and safe travels…
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Doris, I’m worried about you! I hope you can figure out what’s causing the nausea soon. That is a horrible way to travel. As for the time outs and meeting and spending time with others, you have hit the nail on the head. Living for months on end on a 34’ x 10’ sailboat with a spouse tries ones patience at times, for sure. It’s partly for that reason that we’re spending at least a month on a mooring ball in Hope Town, where there are things to do on shore and people to get to know. Safe and healthy travels to you!!
I think a 34×10 sailboat would be the end of me!
Hi Doris I have really enjoyed reading about your adventures. Hope you are feeling better. Stay safe and keep us posted.
Louis and Doris … I LOVE reading your posts… I can almost imagine/feel being there with you guys. Will take the advice on “time-outs” as my fiance and I work together at Charter Communications … so we do see each other ALL the time… so far so good, but I do understand the struggle 🙂
Safe travels !
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Ouch … sometimes not so easy but patience and kindness help. As the African Masai say :: poly poly …. meaning : slow ..slow ..going
That would be “pole, pole” but we get the idea!
Tell me true: have you hired a very talented oil painter who specializes in bananas and sunsets? Has Louis taken up the brush?
My vote goes wildly yes yes yes to Take Me Inside your trip.
A very satisfying and fascinating post. But what else is new?
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LOL! Louis says thank you for the compliment, but it helps a lot to have drop-dead gorgeous nature outside your door. Of course, never an hour without a challenge. It has been now been raining llamas and alpacas for about three hours, and I have a 4WD taxi picking me up at 9:30 to go to town. Louis, of course, is not fretting. I am wondering how anything but a llama or alpaca gets off this precipice in the mud. Stay tuned and thanks for the vote for TMI.
Keep em coming!
Best reporting yet! Except sorry about the nausea challenge! You met the wrong shaman perhaps! Can’t wait to get the in person reporting!!! Xo
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