Problems

The last two and a half days have been more or less confined to the hostel. Digestive problems would be the polite way of saying what's happening to me.

There's no way, for me, of knowing why this is happening. My anxiety can manifest itself physically, and stressors abound here.

This is a party hostel, so relating to many of the other travellers is difficult. I don't play beer pong. I don't get hammered every night (or any night) crashing at five in the morning and sleeping until the afternoon. I don't spend all my time (or any of my time) trying to hook up with the other people here.

There isn't anyone with me. I didn't travel with or to anyone, so there's no one to rely on but me, and socially, it's interact with the others in the hostel or the locals or no one at all.

And the locals pose their own problem for me. I don't know what to do when an attractive woman is flirting with me past the point that could be considered flirting. I don't understand why it is happening. I know it's not because I'm just that good looking. It's only when the waitress hands me the bar tab with more than just my drinks on it that I can understand what is happening.

Money. I am constantly calculating the cost of everything in Canadian dollars. Visualizing my bank account. Thinking about how much school costs.

But maybe it's not even anxiety. Maybe I'm sick. Or maybe I have food poisoning.

I had all that fresh fruit in D.F.. That maracuya within hours of touching down here.

Tacos with I have no idea what meat inside. Ceviche, raw fish, on the streets of Lima. Sure, the locals were eating it, but they're used to it.

So I've done something I didn't want to do. I have Imodiumed myself. In a few hours my frequent trips to the bathroom will replace themselves with the opposite problem. But flying however much around the world I did to get here and not leaving the hostel for two and a half days out of a five week trip is turning into yet another stressor.