Probably not the kind of experience you want when you come to see one of the wonders of the world, but nevertheless it was an experience, and that's part and parcel of travelling I suppose.
I am currently lying in a swish hotel room bed, unfortunately not in pleasant circumstances.
2 nights ago on the eve of our most anticipated and intrepid part of our trip - the inka trail to Machu Picchu, Greg woke me at 3 am in agony after being violently sick. I'd never seem him like it, and he isn't one to overreact, so I jumped out of bed and ran downstairs to wake the staff of the tiny and basic hostel, trying to mime to them to call a doctor. Any few spanish phrases I know escaping me in panic. They started trying to persuade me to take Greg some coca tea instead, thinking his problem was altitude - I assume some wimps freak out about altitude which hasn't really effected us much at all. I decided it was time to make them realise it was more worrying and asked them to call an ambulance. I couldn't make out what was wrong with Greg and I assumed the doc may need to do some tests, so we may as well get a free ride to the hospital, plus I was a bit concerned the pain may be appendix related. A friendly English speaking doc arrived 10 mins later and got us straight in the ambulance. We arrived at a small building in a residential area, but they were really well equipped and there was only one other patient, better than uk a&e on a Friday night! Turns out it's a private clinic where they take foreign patients, but despite the money making side of it we were relieved as they were excellent, and very attentive. They quickly established, via a load if blood, poo and pee, that it was a form of gastroenteritis, which had become a bit of an infection so causing the pain. They soon got Greg more comfortable, and I was finally able to relax and feel like he was in good hands. Greg was very good and despite being in a bit of a pickle, still managed to see the funny side of it, although I'm still not convinced it wasn't all and act to get out of trekking!
Turns out the insurance covered all medical expenses, although they will only cover his inka trail costs not mine, as in their inhumane eyes I could have still gone on the trek! Idiots.
After 2 days of gravy bum, drips and antibiotics we were sent away better, but gutted and feeling very sorry for ourselves. I checked us in to a decent hotel, as our tiny room in the hostel which was freezing and noisy from the incessant peruvian drivers beeping their horns - (this is the worst part about Peru), rubbish trucks playing fleur Elise?!? And packs of stray dogs fighting to shag the latest bitch in heat ALL night long, so was not the best place to recover. To add to all this I started feeling unwell, which I was dreading as Greg and I have been sharing all meals to avoid food envy, so it's likely I ate the bad stuff too.
We are currently waiting to find out if we can still make use of the £300 each pass we paid for by just paying the extra for the train ticket up to machu picchu and meeting our group which will be arriving there on Monday, we are both hoping to be well enough so at least we can see what we came for.
The whole debacle we have decided to put down to fate, after all gastroenteritis has an incubation period of up to 72 hours, so if it had happened 8 hours later when we were half way up a mountain with sanitary facilities miles away, uncontrollable gravy bum would have taken on a whole new dimension...
I think I'll leave this story here and post a separate blog about Cuzco itself, which deserves a mention, despite our experience of it now being a little tainted...
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