Bruises and Hives
In South America I traveled alone: I was prepared and in the right mindset. In all honesty when Shannon left Europe, I hadn’t entirely prepared myself for being on my own. It wasn’t that I didn’t realize I would be by myself. It was just that I wasn’t accustomed to it. We had been a travelling duo for two months and suddenly not having her around was quite a shock. A few days passed before I began to adjust.
July 2015
The day after she left, I decided to go jogging along the river. When you travel, the learning curve is astronomically steep. I discovered the east side of the river had less street lights and a smoother path, whereas the west side was uneven and overrun with dead ends. I also found the lights had a specific pattern that was beneficial when crossing in one direction but not the other.
After the active morning I dedicated the remainder of the day to blogging, laundry, and rest. That evening, however, I got dressed in my best, hired a cab, and headed to the opera. The Estates Theater was showing Don Giovanni; quite fitting as it was where the piece had originally been performed.
Don Giovanni was composed by Mozart while he was living in Prague. The city held him in the highest esteem, paying for his accommodation, food, and anything else he required. That was until they realized he was spending his time enjoying the local women rather than composing. They threatened to run him out of town. Fortunately, Mozart was a quick thinker and pitched the idea of an opera about a ladies’ man. The government bought it and so were the beginnings of Don Giovanni.
I had never been to an opera and had imagined it as an elegant affair with everyone dressed up. It seems that in the twenty-first century, only a select few felt the need to dress up. I had purchased a low-priced seat in the second row of a box. Although it was really cool being up high, the angle left me with a partial view of the stage, which was further obscured by the people sitting in front of me.
Though the opera was in Italian, it wasn’t too difficult to follow. Even more exciting was the fact that I knew one of the arias word for word, having performed it several times in high school.
Once the show was over, I found my way back to Eva’s house, where I had been staying with Shannon. It felt emptier than ever that night. So, the following morning I resolved to move to a hostel in the center of the city. It wasn’t that I didn’t like the apartment, but it was far from town and lacked social connection and interactions.
It was the middle of the day when I arrived, so the hostel was seemingly empty. Rather than wait around; I decided to go on one more solo adventure and seek out Babi’s house in the suburbs of Prague.
Babi, my grandmother, was born and raised in Prague until the age of fourteen when her family escaped the Communist regime established after World War II. Before I left The States, she had given me a list of places to seek out, including her childhood homes. One of which I had already discovered during a free walking tour.
Her suburban home was some six miles (ten kilometers) south of the center. So naturally I went on foot, following the path on the east side of the river. It was a relatively peaceful walk, though quite hot. Runners and bikers sped by me and families meandered along, chatting amicably in Czech.
Once I reached the general vicinity of her house it took me some time to find the actual place. In fact, a one point I almost gave up, resolving that it must have been torn down. Then finally, there it was – almost exactly as I had imagined it. The back of the structure pressed against a strip of forest: Babi must have played there with her two younger brothers. Perhaps it was the same strip in which she received her bb gun wound. The only discrepancy with my imagination was the proximity of the neighbors. They were a great deal closer than expected.
After a few quick photos, I turned back towards the city center, oblivious of what was about to befall me.
Ten minutes of later and I experienced a familiar tingling sensation in my legs. I looked down to discover my calves covered in a blotchy rash. Initially, I dismissed it as a heat rash, nothing more. But then the skin beneath my bike shorts began to throb. I pulled up the edge of the fabric and was horrified. Hives…painful, hot, red, blistery hives were consuming my thighs.
Believe me when I say the five miles (8k) remaining between me and the hostel was one of the most unpleasant walks I have EVER undertaken. Just a mere brush of anything against my skin caused searing pain to tear through my body. Even my cool water bottle was too much to endure.
I tried to distract myself with daydreaming, but the incessant agony was impossible to ignore. It didn’t take long to connect the dots. The previous day I had washed most of my clothes with an unfamiliar detergent. It was identical in color to the one I had a reaction to in Korea years before. Only this time was a lot worse.
An interesting fact: most of my allergies are chemical reactions requiring multiple agents: a chemical combined with heat and/or sweating. If I am exposed to the chemical in the cold nothing happens. Very odd I know.
Long story short, I made it back to the hostel and immediately hopped in the shower. Fortunately, one dress had been spared by the detergent; I put it on and took several anti-histamines. I hit another snag when the hostel informed me that they had a three-day waitlist for laundry. Desperate, I washed enough items in the sink to get me through the week and hung them around my room.
My legs didn’t look much better in the morning and still hurt like hell. The only thing I could bare was a short walk to buy stronger allergy pills and an iced coffee to cheer me up. After a full day of sleeping, reading, and wishing Shannon was around to distract me, the majority of the pain had subsided. Yet, the welts remained.
Despite not having fully recovered, I was determined to explore Prague’s nightlife with my hostel-mates. I joined a group of Americans, Canadians, and Irishmen and went to the infamous five story club near the Charles Bridge. Each level had a different type of music and theme. One was an ice bar, but it cost extra and had a waiting list, so I didn’t go in. Another featured disco music with a light up floors and walls. There was a live band playing on one of the higher levels. The only issue was the size of the bar, which made it all too easy to get separated from your group.
After searching a few floors, I came to a room with an upper level surrounding a dance floor below. From my perch I was spotted most of my group, bouncing around below. Carefully, I made my way down the stairs…apparently not careful enough. My worn sandals slipped on the beer covered steps and sent me sliding down the remaining stairs. I laughed it off as a stranger helped me to my feet and went on my merry way.
The next morning, however, a hand-sized purple and magenta bruise had taken up residence on the back of my leg. There was also a smaller one on my arm from slamming into the steps. The good news was my hives finally beginning to subside.
