In Part 1 of Ingrid’s tale, she discovered that she had Dengue Fever. In Part 2, we hear about how she was treated and what happened next.

We entered the hospital. I felt like I was walking into one of those bars in a western movie where every one stops and stares at you. My head felt dizzy and focusing was impossible. What was happening to me? Looking back, I must have looked really spaced out.

The nurse once again took my blood pressure. She shook her head, checked the equipment and took it again. Not convinced, she took it once more. She told me to remain seated and rushed off to the doctor’s room. I was called in and informed that my blood pressure was 96/80, so low that it was not pumping blood to my brain properly. I was immediately put onto a bed. Before I knew it, they were after my blood again – this time – I was too weak to care.

Noi waved a form in front of me. “What food you want?” she said. I realized then that this was not just a day visit. Thai or Chinese at 80baht or Western at 250baht. Which would you choose at those prices? I chose the Thai, signed the form and was taken to a room on the 7^th floor.

As they wheeled me into place, I looked down at the drip in the back of my hand. My eyes widened. I blinked and took a second look. Was I hallucinating? Like something out of a horror movie, I could see ants running up and down the drip and under the plaster. Was I the only one concerned about this? The nurse ignored them at first, then she carelessly slapped them away. Ow!

Two hours later, with the little energy I had, I was still removing ants from various parts of my body. I asked to be moved. Off they wheeled me to another room but, before we settled, I looked down at the bedside table and spotted an ant, so off we trouped again. Eventually an ant free room was found – it had a pet gecko instead.

During the next 24 hours, I had no idea what was happening. I was constantly nauseous, feverish, had a banging headache, backache and leg ache. I did not know if I was going to live or die. When I pressed the call button, three nurses would skip in and stand to attention at the end of my bed. After telling them what I needed, they would smile, nod their heads and disappear. Great service but no reward. After a while, I would have to call again. They had obviously misunderstood. Often, it would take lots of exhausting hand signals and facial expressions before they would realise what I needed.

Day two in Hospital. I was not feeling any better nor any the wiser as to my condition. Feeling extremely nauseous but starving, I was happy to see my first breakfast walk in on a tray. I lifted the lid and to my surprise… squid soup! Oh yuk! Not something I would eat if I felt 100%. I gave the brekkie a miss.

After the much improved lunch, I was watching a low budget Hollywood movie when there was a knock on my door, followed by the priest! Oh my God, this is it, I thought: this illness is terminal – my time has come. I was a little alarmed that he had come to give the last rights but so delirious I could not find the energy to be scared. He smiled and told me he was visiting because he wanted to practice his English.

Every day the doctor would visit at around 5pm. He would look at me, ask me if I had any bleeding or rash. I would reply no. He would nod, turn around and walk back out again … Er hello some sort of information would be nice Doc!

Over the next few days there was no improvement. It felt like groundhog day. The repeated rubbish movies on the only English speaking channel, the continual disruption of my snoozing as a piece of rubber was slapped round my arm, cutting off my circulation. A needle was jabbed into it extracting more blood, scaring the life out of me.

On the fourth night came the grand finale – the rashhh!!!! It was more than just any old rash. It lasted over twenty-four hours. My face swelled up like a car’s airbag on impact, my hands and feet swelled, went bright red, itched like crazy at first and then felt like they were on fire, aaagh damn that Dengue!

Anticlimax: on the sixth day the doctor came in, looked at me, turned around and walked out again. Ten minutes later the senior nurse entered and told me I could go home. Three days passed before I snapped out of it and got my energy back. Within a fortnight I was back on the island where I caught the disease. Crazy or not, I was determined not to let the Dengue fever put me off my trip. This was my horse and I am so glad I got back on it.

Later I discovered that the deadly Dengue Haemorrhagic Fever not only occurs in young children but also in people who have caught one strain of Dengue Fever and then catch another.

Hurry up with a vaccine. Please!

If you would like to contact Ingrid, who is currently in Chile, you can e-mail her on:gr.ing.a.rid2003@hotmail.com

The Taj Mahal is situated in Agra in the Indian state of Uttar Pradesh. It was built by the Moghul Emperor, Shah Jahan in memory of his wife Mumtaz Mahal and is the 7^th wonder of the world. It’s worth noting that the Taj Mahal is closed to visitors on Mondays.

There are three ways you can reach the Taj Mahal from Delhi. You can fly with Indian Airlines from Delhi to Agra. The airport, Kheria, is about 6km from Agra and can be reached at fixed rates by taxis (Rs 75) and auto-rickshaws (Rs 50).

There are several trains that connect Delhi with Agra. These include the Shatabdi Express which takes 2 hours, or the Taj Express 2 ½ hours or the Intercity Express which takes 3 hrs. The third option is to travel by car from Delhi to Agra. There are express bus services (a/c and non-a/c) are available from Delhi, Jaipur, Lucknow, Gwalior, and Jhansi. Distances to Agra from the following are as follows:

Mathura – 58 kms Bharatpur – 60 kms Gwalior – 118 kms Delhi – 203 kms Jaipur – 236 kms Khajuraho – 393 kms

U. S. Soldiers Home, Washington: during a century of travel (well 78 years!) both in and out of service I have travelled to over 150 countries (I count both North and South Dakota as countries) and for some reason have jotted signs and happenings that I thought funny at the time (and now wonder why). So here is the perfect opportunity to share some of my anecdotes.

In Japan, often near railroad stations, they have what they call Capsule Hotels. They are like train berths one on top of the other or some refer to them as coffins. Businessmen after a night at the bars and who miss their trains home often stay in them. They even have a very small TV set in the bunk with you and a telephone. If you can’t find a place elsewhere then you look for a capsule hotel. I stayed in several. One had a sign at the entrance. No elevator. No Cooking. No tattoos (they associate tattoos with criminals and Cher.) No dead drunks. One time the bunk over me was not occupied and for some strange reason I left my money on the bunk overhead like it was a shelf. When I returned that night the manager handed me the money. I guess he knew only a foolish foreigner would do that. One time I went into a coffee shop near train station in Ueno section of Tokyo and when I left I left my backpack at the stool. I went to downtown Tokyo before discovering my backpack was missing. I thought maybe it got pulled off in the crowded subway. There are thousands of coffee shops in Ueno and I did not know if I could remember which one I was in. I went into one and the manager held up my backpack as if he had been holding it all day waiting for my return. The Japanese are just incredibly honest. More about capsule hotels later.

One way to cut down on expenses in Japan is to use the many vending machines found on streets everywhere. Food etc is cheaper there. Coffee in YMCA was $4 a cup. In the machines, $1.10. In McDonalds $1.80 a cup. Beer can cost you $6.00 in a bar but in vending machines outside $2.90 or less. They even sell whisky in vending machines on the street. I don’t know how they keep children from buying whisky from the vending machines. Japan has clear plastic umbrellas you can see thorough so you won’t run into people and spike them. Stores have stands outside to place your wet umbrella and not take into store.

A Japanese man that looked older than me stopped me on the street in Tokyo one time evidently to try out his English and said to me. “My, you look old. Are you tired? It turned out he was older than me and had been a Japanese fighter pilot in WWII with he said 303 missions. (I suspect I heard wrong.) His English was not too good. For some reason he told me he did not like Italians. He sang a bit of song Coming thru the Rye and asked me if I knew the name of that song. He laughed when he heard my military background and saluted me and then scooted away. I would have liked to have found out more about him like did he bomb Pearl Harbour. It was a most strange encounter. About as strange as these notes.

The honour of inventing the useful rickshaw falls to an American missionary in Japan who designed one for his invalid wife. The Japanese appropriated the idea and then the Chinese.

I one time was on a train in Japan and some Indian congressmen asked me if I would have lunch with them in a week as they were invited to the States. Before I met with them, I read up books about our Congress, how many how chosen etc so I would not look like a dummy. The first question they asked me is: “What is pie a la mode?” (It is pie with ice cream on top if asked.) They then asked about tipping which they were not used to in Japan. I did not tell them I went to places where tipping is not required Ha! I have met particularly Australians that have worked while travelling. I met an Irishman that got a job as extra in Japanese movies where they needed a Caucasian face in background checking into hotel, airport etc. He talked me into taking such a job. Military Intelligence found out about it and suggested I not do this as the studio Nichikecki (or something), sometimes slanted their picture anti American and I might not know from scene I was in. There went my movie career. I could have been a star. I met an Australian temporarily tending bar in US Military Sanno Hotel. Some try jobs that do not take away jobs from locals. Like big firms hiring foreigners for practice in conversational English. I met some Japanese that had had British teachers. I had to smile when I heard them talking with a Japanese accent. I don’t know if your Embassies would know of trade shows or possibilities for temporary work that did not take away jobs from others or not. They hired a Japanese to teach my Irish friend some Japanese He got more pay if he spoke a few words. We think of Japan as having high class films but they also make a lot of cheap films. One day my friend was playing the part of a reporter in front of Judge’s stand. The Japanese actor Judge did not show up the next day so my Irish friend was promoted to Judge in same movie.

Next month, Mac discusses India.

If you would like to contact Mac, he can be e-mailed on: macsan400@yahoo.com