I do try to schedule any health and wellness setbacks around my trips to Mérida, really I do.
The tickle in the back of my throat came a week ago Friday, and I knew immediately what I was in for. If I rested all weekend, I had a chance of recovering from an impending chest infection and head cold in time for Christmas. I stayed in bed on and off the next 48 hours, and it worked. I fought off chills and fever, overcame a bad cough and runny nose, just in time to be presentable at the dinner table Dec. 25. If I stay on course, the last remnants of my cough will be gone in time for my flight to Mérida.
Already, I was recovering from something trickier. In spring last year, I found that instead of enjoying protracted walks around Centro, I was hobbling a bit. It was calluses, I thought, making a mental note to get a pedicure and have my feet scrubbed and sanded. I went to the spa, but the results were minimal, although it’s always relaxing to get your feet pampered, even if I’m always the only guy in the place. I brace myself for the inevitable comment: “I wish my husband would get a pedicure.” Rumors of throngs of metrosexuals in Fairfield County, Connecticut, are highly overstated.
Eventually I went to the podiatrist. And for a year, I’d visit, he scrape and bandage me, slowly improving the condition of my foot. But about three weeks