I am having a dream about throwing up in an alley. Crazy green stuff is coming up and out of me. I wake up. I have to vomit. I run to the bathroom and green stuff actually does come up and out of me. It’s 4am. My body aches all over. I feel like crap. What is up with me getting sick in town?

There’s no way I can hike. It hurts to lie in bed. I try to throw up a few more times, but there’s nothing left for my body to expel. I hear Stealth and Duckets leave. I stay, uncomfortable in bed, until 3pm when I decide that if I’m not going to hike, I should at least try and be productive. I’m hot and dumb feeling, but propelled by the fear that my bank account will be totally empty when I return. I need to use a computer to apply for an art grant. I gather my body together and get on a bus headed for the library.  I try to compose answers to essay questions, select images and caption them with their allotted 150 character descriptions, but my brain isn’t getting much traction. After an hour, the computer boots me off and I have to renegotiate access. I do this a few times because my head’s as woozy as my gut and it’s taking me extra-long to write. I leave feeling useless.

Back at the hostel, I climb into bed and sleep until 11PM. I haven’t eaten all day and I wake hungry. I make rye toast with butter and drink two glasses of water. I’m hiking tomorrow, regardless of how I feel. Town is bringing me down.