With now only less than a handful of days left before mum had to leave, we wanted to maximize our time together doing things. I had still not been to the Sun and the Moon pyramids at Teotihuacan, which are about an hour’s drive from Mexico City which we made our goal. After researching it, I found that we could catch a bus from the city to the pyramids without too much problem. It also was totally affordable and buses ran very often so it was a plus plus for the bus (pun?).
The issue was the best way to maximize the day would be to arrive very early as there is lots to see; and when I say early I mean, be out of the door at 5 am. Little in this world can ready a normal English person for the diversity of Mexico’s weather. Getting up at 5am meant braving the cold… and I mean freezing cold. If I had known this, I would have definitely considered not which sweater to take but how many. After getting to the bus terminal and then stuck on the bus with a freezing breeze from the window that was jammed open for an hour certainly put me in a bad mood before we even arrived. I had chosen to taje a sweater for the off chance it got windy, and had not anticipated it being freezing cold at all. Sure enough, we arrived at the pyramids at 7am, and dew was on the grass it was wide open and very nippy.
I took it upon myself (not out of selfishness.. ok maybe a little) to run up and down the pyramids as fast as possible and not because I was excited. My core temperature was low and I was just miserable. Mum poor thing with her bad knee was really not keeping up, and for me standing still while feeling cold was really not much of a fun option. I felt like one of those gym-fanatics that can’t help but pump some muscle group while talking to someone to make sure they’re benefiting from every movement.
We had a great day walking all round the pyramids and inside the museum and up and around the pyramids again. By about 3-4pm we were exhausted and as the day got later the place started filling up. For us, it was now time to leave and head home.
Sick to See you Leave
Well I had had a great Mexican Christmas with my mum, despite a few irritable moments on my behalf, I’ve not been smothered with someone’s company like that in such a long time I was bound to be snappy. So please understand readers, that I’m not some horrible monster who would deliberately not take his mother to the airport. The day prior to mum leaving, I had eaten a custard cone pastry… which you’d not ordinarily question. However the night before mum leaving my gut started to feel excessively bloated, I was feeling malaised and rough. Mum, assured me it was me feeling bad because she was leaving. I in turn, retorted in a manly manner that, no genuinely, I feel rather rough. Sure enough, as I got into bed nausea kicked in. I finally drifted off to sleep after a struggle, only to wake up an hour later running to the bathroom to vomit. I went back to bed and after a struggle to sleep another hour later I was hugging the toilet bowl vomitting and shaking head to foot. Repeat this cycle until 7am when mum came over to have breakfast with me. I failed at pulling a brave face, I had had the worst night’s sleep since being in Mexico and certainly the worst night this trip… and most likely the worst night in years.
Mum’s flight wasn’t until midday and we had time to go to a pharmacy. I hoped to pop a pill and the problem would go away, alas the nausea pills I was given only made me feel worse. It started getting late and mum had to leave, I wanted to go with her to the airport but she insisted I went and go and see a doctor.
As the taxi arrived, she gave me a nice tight hug as she got in…. the hug that destroyed me. Not so much emotionally but actually. As soon as the taxi was 10m down the road I was hurling all over the pavement. Never, have I ever stooped this low, I had become one of those pavement vomitting types. I was truly ashamed. From being all fours on the pavement outside my house, I picked myself up and staggered to the doctors, vomiting into another flowerbed on the 150 meters walk to the doctor’s.
By this point, I was delirious, I couldn’t really phrase my words or retain attention while being spoken to. Doctor explained that it most likely was something dairy I had eaten, I struggled to think what I could have possibly eaten the day before that was out of the ordinary, the milk I had in my fridge I had with my coffee was fine, I hadn’t eaten cheese in days and aside from that there was nothing really I had eaten except for the custard cone pastry I had had. The doctor administered an injection to stop the convulsions and gave me a course of antibiotics, and rehydration sachets and so on. I went home, wrapped up with Long-Johns under my cargo pants, woollen sweater, plus hoodie and then under 3 blankets in bed and shivered myself to sleep waking intermittently for medication but essentially I slept for 36 hours straight. It took best part of a week until I started feeling well again, and all this because of a cursed custard pastry!!!
And that ladies and gentlemen was why I couldn’t take my mum to the airport. Sounds like a big fat excuse right? Well, it’s the only truth I have! Thanks for reading about my Mexican Christmas!