Month: June 2017

On my last night in Paris, I woke up shivering uncontrollably, my head splitting from a headache, my stomach full of nails, my eyesight blurry and my muscles weak. I had a fever.

Immediately I panicked. I had to check out the next day. I had a flight to catch, and a 17-hour layover in Denmark followed by another flight. I couldn’t do that if I was so sick.

I knew the solution: calm, sleep and water.

I mustered the strength to go to the bathroom for water. Back in bed, I texted a friend for calm. I didn’t need to urge the sleep: its pull was inexorable.

I kept waking every hour or two, and I would go to the bathroom and get water and go back to sleep. I considered extending my stay, but even the thought of the cost was stressful. I thought of extending my room reservation for one night so that I could at least stay in bed until I had to leave for the airport. But the thought of finding clothes and going to reception and talking was too exhausting.

I stayed in bed until past 11. Sleep and water did the trick and my fever receded. I had 7 hours between check out and take off and nowhere in particular to go, so I kept my arrangement to meet a friend for lunch. We went for lunch (where I had only soup and many, many drinks) after which she took me to a manga cafe where I passed out on the couch until my Parisian sister arrived to say goodbye.

I made it to the airport and slept through the flight to Copenhagen.

In Copenhagen, I took a taxi to my hotel and arrived after midnight. I adopted the same strategy again, leaving my luggage and clothes near the door and showering, then going to bed with only a towel.

Curled up in the bed, I passed out once again.

In the morning, I slept late and missed breakfast. When I got up, I was still weak, still in pain, still sick, but at least able to walk without feeling too queasy. I decided to try walking around the area. The lady at the reception desk lamented that she could not refund breakfast for me, but let me back into the kitchen to offer me tea, for which I was immensely grateful. As I drank the tea, I was given all sorts of advice about exploring the fishing village or taking a bus into Copenhagen.

I was excited to follow their advice, but when I finished my tea and stepped outside, my feet carried me away from the village, away from Copenhagen, away from Sweden and Denmark’s tunnel-bridge of friendship, toward the ocean.

I had a long and pleasant walk along the water, though I didn’t dare go as far as I wanted, knowing that as weak as I was, I might not be able to get back. I walked through the village as well, my admiration for the area overriding my pain and discomfort for a time. It was a pleasant walk, despite everything, and well worth the discomfort and exhaustion it cost me.

Denmark gave me a good ending to this grueling tale.

The hotel where I spent my last night in Paris was simple, but nice. Though I had left the hostel suspecting bedbugs without confirmation, I was determined not to spread any possible infestation if I could avoid it.

I left my luggage close to the door and separated my clothes into two categories: probably safe and probably unsafe. Unfortunately, my coat, sweater and scarf had all hung on a hook attached to the bed, putting them in the “probably unsafe” category. It was also too cold to go without them, and I hadn’t brought alternative options.

I put all the “probably unsafe” clothes in a plastic bag that I stuffed in my suitcase, but I needed the sweater, scarf and coat. I set them on top of my suitcase and contemplated going without cold weather gear for my remaining day. I decided I’d make a decision in the morning.

I took a long, hot shower and headed to bed in a towel. On the way to bed, passing by one of the large mirrors on the wall of the room, I got my confirmation of bedbugs: a path of bites going down the inside of my arm from elbow to the back of my shoulder in an ugly cluster, and then another trail going down my side to my waist.

I took photos of the bites, so that I could identify any new bites if they showed up.

But for then I was tired. I crawled into bed with my sister’s book that I had almost finished and meant to finish before I left the following day, but had no energy to read. I fell straight to sleep.

That was when the fever hit.