I woke at 7:00 AM after a rough night. The hotel seemed to be a hub of activity even in the early hours, with lots of noise with people arriving and leaving. It was bad enough to be here on my own, my thoughts drifted to the families with kids, all in one room, imagining their exhaustion.
Breakfast arrived promptly at 7:30 AM, same as yesterday, perhaps this is going to be the pattern. I was happy with this routine. It filled the immediate hunger, a functional start to another day in confinement.
The morning was earmarked for a shower and work. A small break in the monotony came with a covid test delivery, which felt like a novel event. I had travelled to Bogotá with seven rapid flow tests, and my own result yesterday was negative. There was a flicker of hope that the subsequent PCR test would mirror this result – but I realised that I would still have to do the 10 days regardless of the result.
Lunch arrived with a much louder knock at 12:15 PM. It was a coronation chicken baguette and something that was pretending to be soup. Despite its questionable nature, it was nice to have something sweet, and it was accompanied by another bottle of water. My small juice bottle, squirted into water, continued to be a source of solace, helping to bring some sunshine into my day!
Work, however, proved challenging. I was forced to conduct video calls exclusively on my phone because the hotel Wi-Fi was just not up to it. I made a mental note to check my monthly data allocation and make sure it was fully topped up.
In the afternoon, I found myself feeling dizzy and tried a strong dose of caffeine to combat it. Although made with granules, it did seem to help a little – a far cry from the coffee experience in Bogotá.
Top two priorities when stuck in a hotel room
It was day two and the hotel chair was already becoming an issue, a little uncomfortable, but I resolved to adapt by using a pillow from the bed. Despite these irritations, the work itself was productive and helped pass the time quickly.
Dinner was chicken and chips with lemon sponge, arriving promptly at 6:15 PM. For a moment, it felt like I’d been treated to a “proper” Friday-night takeaway - though it wasn’t especially filling.
Chicken and chips felt a little like a take-away treat
Sweet but edible lemon sponge
Determined to fight the sedentary pull of quarantine, I paced the room until my phone registered another 2.2 km - about 3,200 steps - while some forgettable TV mumbled in the background as if to keep me company.
The evening brought a call with my good friend Mike, who was equal parts concerned and amused by my predicament. His humour - laced with just the right amount of ridicule - was exactly the antidote I needed to the day’s monotony.
Later, I caught up with Laura on WhatsApp, though that chat ended in a small falling out over something or other.
Normally our disagreements – mostly due to poor translation of our respective languages - blew over quickly, but this one seemed to loom larger. Not because of the subject itself, but because I couldn’t simply step outside, clear my head, and let the fresh air take the edge off. In here, there was nowhere for frustration to go.
Sleep didn’t come easily, and when it finally did, it was somewhere around 2:00 AM.
If you want to know the full story of how I ended up in this hotel room, the complete book is available now.
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