(Not for me though)
03/18/2010 - 03/18/2010 45 °F
I woke early the next morning. We’d cruised down to Cape Horn, the last bit of land before Antarctica. We’d be disembarking to the island. Well I wouldn’t be but the rest of the passengers would. I was too weak to get out of bed, to say nothing of going down for breakfast, or up on deck to take pictures of “El Fin del Mundo” or end of the world. Climbing the 190 steep steps up the cliffs to reach the island was definitely not going to happen.
I tried calling reception to ask for the doctor. I was very concerned about not being able to keep any food down for the past two days. I really didn’t want to be found unconscious in my room. The phone rang and rang. Apparently no one manned the reception desk or any other phone lines during disembarkations. A steward came into clean the room, and I told him about no one picking up and needing to see a doctor.
I had to wait as the doctor was out on the island. She came to my room when the groups came back from the island. She wasn’t fluent in English, so we ended up having a full Spanglish conversation. She gave me pills for the sea sickness, and another set of pills to finally take care of the traveller’s diarrhea that I had been putting up with for over two weeks. I spent the rest of the day cooped up in my room, missing out on the second disembarkation of the day to Wulaia bay.
By dinner I was finally able to leave the room to eat in the dining room. I still didn’t have much of an apetite and the doctor had already notified the kitchen to prepare a very bland meal. My table mates were relieved to finally see me after not seeing me for the entire day. I ate a little bit and then retired early.