Day 5 - Dizzy Days and Desert Dreams

I woke at 7:00 AM, with breakfast arriving half an hour later. After a quick shower I set myself up for an 8:45 AM call with the supplier. Work trickled through in fits and starts during the morning, which in truth was a relief - I wasn’t feeling quite right again. The dizziness lingered like a bad smell, making even small tasks feel heavier than they should.

To keep it at bay, I kept up my constant cycle of rehydration, draining a small bottle of water every fifteen minutes. It felt less like drinking and more like dosing myself - a steady routine that was as much about reassurance as it was about thirst.

Lunch, a sandwich and soup, arrived at 12:20 PM. The sandwich was particularly disappointing, made with stale white bread and containing a distant memory of chicken and sweetcorn. A short walk after lunch, around the bed and back, offered a brief respite.

I also continued working hard, staring into the laptop screen, which eventually led to a headache.

I had run out of coffee and sweetener today. A call down to reception, my very first, resulted in a knock at the door half an hour later.

On the floor was a carrier bag overflowing with about 30 coffee and sugar sachets, milk cartons, sweetener, plus 30 different types of teabags. I pondered humorously, “How long do they think I am staying?".

I detest tea but I decided to take it all home with me, for house guests, another small victory for the list.

I worked steadily until 6:00 PM before finally collapsing onto the bed, clinging to a faint memory that mac and cheese had been on the dinner list. I hoped I was right. Some unhealthy stodge felt exactly like what I needed.

At home my diet is what I call “freegan” - I eat what I feel like, when I’m hungry, and more often than not that means vegan. But if my body demands steak or chicken, I’ll happily give in. For me, the vegan diet has always been about a mix of health and conscience - a way to look after myself while also doing something, however small, for the future of the planet.

In Colombia, veganism does exist, but it’s still seen as a little unusual. So, while I was there, my body had already adapted to eating meat again. By the time of this confinement, food was not a battle I was willing to take on. Whatever arrived at the door, I would eat without complaint - with one exception: Bananas.

The battle I did have was with the room itself: trying to strike a balance between the stale chill of the air conditioning and the heavy, stuffy warmth that came without it. It felt like a war I could never win - too cold or too hot, but never quite right. The sealed windows only underlined the sense of captivity. Fresh air was a luxury firmly out of reach.

Understandably, my mind drifted toward future travel, and I found myself browsing holidays in Aruba, promising to revisit the idea at the weekend - though, by this point, most days were blurring into one another anyway.

In an effort to impose some order, I unpacked the overflowing plastic bag that was delivered earlier and separated all the packets neatly into the plastic tray by the kettle.  It was a small gesture, but keeping the room tidy felt like keeping my mind tidy too.

Dinner arrived at 6:15 PM: the mac and cheese was even stodgier than I expected, rounded off with yet another slice of chocolate cake. Despite the sheer volume, I still felt hungry.

Sleep claimed me earlier than usual, though not before the quiet sense of something missing - Laura was out with friends that evening, and the absence of our nightly chat left the room feeling just a little emptier.