We're back in Bogota.
While I still have much to record and share of our trip to Curaçao, I have to get this off my chest...
First, let me say that Curaçao was awesome. The weather could have been a bit better and, in retrospect, we'd have picked a different hotel for the second half of our stay if we knew better, but... all in all? Awesome.
Not only is the island beautiful, the beaches stunning and the snorkelling amazing and accessible to even our four year old, but I felt (almost) normal. I was only sick twice (on the drive from the airport -in a KFC bathroom, no less- and then first thing the following morning), I slept better than I have in almost two months, I was able to get out of bed before 10am, could eat whatever I wanted without fear of repercussions, didn't need to take any of my medication for nausea, and actually had energy to play and swim with the boys. I was still tired at night, but I am 3 1/2 months pregnant and keeping up with three kids so that's to be expected. But still (almost) normal. And happy.
Fast forward to our return two evenings ago. Already on the ride home from the airport I began to feel queasy. At the time, I tried to tell myself that it was motion sickness from the awful Bogota roads and an overly sensitive sense of smell re-adjusting to the pollution of the heavy traffic here (which reminds me, I really have to post about driving down here... it's insane). We arrived home and I managed to unpack a few bags before really succumbing to how terrible I was feeling. I couldn't ignore it or try to reason it away.
Peter left to get some groceries and something for supper, and shortly afterwards I was violently, violently ill. Vomiting while having a fit of coughing is not so fun. It was so intense that still, two days later, my stomach muscles are a bit sore. After crawling out of the bathroom, I sat in the livingroom and cried. And cried. And sobbed and blubbered and felt very, very sorry for myself.
Clearly the issue here is not merely a case of morning sickness. While on the island, I felt so (almost perfectly) great. I was so hopeful that it would continue once we returned to Bogota. But obviously the altitude here is playing a greater part than we previously realized (we are at over 9000 ft, after all). It's just so, so discouraging. There's nothing I can do about the altitude. No pill I can take to lower us closer to sea level. So what if I have to deal with this the entire pregnancy?? I'm not sure I can.
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Returning home from a trip is always a bit hard.
Leaving someplace hot and tropical where you're surrounded by amazing floral, visiting iguanas, and beautiful white sand beaches only to return to the oppressiveness of a city of 9 million people, choking pollution, sometimes-several-times-daily rains, little sun, constant clouds, and the daily grind of slipper searching, sweater wearing, fearing everything you eat, the threat of constant nausea and being too tired to give your kids and husband everything/anything they need is downright depressing.
And really the word that kept running through my mind that first night back in Bogota was just that... OPPRESSIVE. Maybe that's a risk you always take in leaving the place
you're stuck in you call home and travelling to someplace new... that you'll see everything in a different light upon your return.
While I can honestly say that I'm excited to see friends again and to try to get into holiday mode (someone please send me the energy to do some decorating/baking/creating for Christmas??), I can't really say that I'm glad to be back.
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Sorry for all the whining. I promise a fun post will be next... think flamingos, glass bottom boast and turquoise seas.