Tainted salteñas and a free ride to La Paz

Never again

For the past week or so, these spiteful meat-stuffed turnovers have served as a quick breakfast when I don´t have much time to cook or sit down for the pitiful excuse that is your normal South American breakfast (bread and tea...and sometimes jelly). Since entering this beautiful country, these palm-sized morsels were digested without incident atleast every other day...until I stopped in Oruro. And here my troubles began...

Some kind hearted folks found me 74 km´s northwest of Oruro on ruta 1 and could immediately tell I was in trouble, for I was buckled over on the side of the road, unable to mount my bike let alone stand, and covered chest deep in explosive salteñas. Despite the vomit soak cloths and poo pants, this sainted family loaded me in the back of their pick up a drove me all the way to La Paz, where I was dropped off at the emergency room with the shortest of goodbyes. The doctor´s orders were simple and practical. I was handed two litres of water and told to drink every drop. This immediately resulted in an hour long vomit fest in which I was sure my insides were a heave or two from gushing forth into the trash can.

After a well deserved slumber in a hospital bed, I was back to normal by morning (yesterday)...but my clothes were still covered in puke and poo.

So I'm in La Paz, sitting here at the hostel computer wearing some boxers and a towel while my clothes are drying. Tonight, adventuring is afoot. However, no more streetfood, especially salteñas.