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I Definitely Did It Wrong
Fucking jet lag. It has punched a hole through my tried and true drugging strategy of the past. Maybe that’s because three years ago when I last traveled internationally, requiring me to prolong waking hours and sock myself with a hearty dose of anything on hand, I wasn’t having ridiculous hot flashes that wake me up fifteen times a night. Hot flashes are why women my age stop doing shit. I’m now convinced of it.
Nevertheless yesterday continued our streak of things going pretty much according to plan right up to the moment that our guide, Mercy, realized that I came totally unprepared for a day hike to a waterfall, and she gave me a LOOK.
“I thought we were going to a coffee plantation,” I said while pulling self-consciously at my freaking adorable outfit consisting of a black cotton t-shirt, flouncy linen skirt and trendy sneaker/loafer hybrids that help my plantar fasciitis. Describing my well-worn hiking boots, raincoat, and complete set of backpacking gear stored back at the hotel did nothing for my credibility.
“Anyway these are basically tennis shoes. Don’t worry about me I’ll be fine,” I said, taking in the dirt road that was our path and its precipitous incline. It looked like something a Jeep could handle, so I was pretty sure.
I slipped and fell on my ass twice in the first five minutes.