It is day five of being sick and every day I seem to feel progressively worse...For the first time I feel a pang of homesickness. I have a longing for Trader Joe's chicken soup, my couch and a redbox movie. What is this strange connection between physical ailment and the familiar? For the most part I have been drowning myself in tea and sleeping my vacation days away in hopes of waking and feeling 100% but that day has not yet come...
I mope about in my room for another half hour or so then finally bring myself to venture down the hall to the bathroom, my footsteps sounding unusually loud against the custom hardwood floors. I gargle salt with warm water in an attempt to kill off whatever Argentine bug I've been afflicted with, brush my teeth, wash my face...now what? I take a deep breath and march purposefully towards my bedroom. I get dressed and head out to the farmacity (pharmacy store) across the street. I load up on tissues, meds, and cough drops. My last stop is El Sanjuanino, a local restaurant a few blocks away from my Recoleta home that specializes in typical Argenitine dishes, where I order beef and chicken empanandas "para llevar" (to-go) to bolster my subdued appetite. The streets this Sunday are surprisingly clear of heavy pedestrian traffic despite the amazing weather outside. I close my eyes, tilt my face to the brilliant sun and take in a deep breath of the "buen aire" until I start coughing, then I laugh to myself and let the beauty of the day carry me the rest of the way home.
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