What I Learned From Working in Chile

Robert Hruzek over at Middle Zone Musings asked me to participate in his latest group writing project, “What I Learned From…..Travel“.

I am glad to participate, for about 12 years ago I did learn something very useful when I was traveling to the country of Chile on business:

Watch what you eat – it could kill you.

In January of 2005 I was in the midst of a business trip in the north of Chile, visiting the cities of Arica (right near the border of Peru) and Iquique. It was the middle of summer in this desert climate (this was the Sourthern Hemisphere), so it was quite hot and uncomfortable.

I recall being very jet lagged from the 15 hours of travel I needed to get to these places, so the combination of heat and fatigue was not working in my favor as I carried on with my business tasks.

The first day in Arica went OK, but my night was a disaster as I spent a near sleepless night in a non-air conditioned tiny cabana that was near a courtyard where revelers were playing Paul McCartney’s “Band on the Run” at high volume for hours on end (to this day I can’t hear that song without feeling uncomfortable).

By the time we got to Iquique I was only getting by on double espressos and a strong desire to just get through the day and back to a nice bed in Santiago, where we had a company-rented apartment. I was also pretty hungry by the time lunch rolled around.

Because of our hectic schedule we couldn’t go to a sit-down restaurant, so my Chilean associates took me to a local takeout joint. At precisely the time I needed to be thinking about what I was doing (and ordering), I was more guided by my hunger, specifically for protein.

I ordered a pork sandwich, wolfed it down, and off we went to finish our day. We flew back to Santiago that evening and I settled into bed, exhausted.

The next morning we had a big meeting scheduled with our partners and a new potential vendor, but I had a bit of a problem as I awoke – I couldn’t move my head without intense pain and stiffness. I also felt pretty dreadful. Nevertheless, I somehow managed to get up, take a shower, and put my suit on.

One of my US associates took one look at me and said, “man, you don’t look so good“. I shrugged it off, although I couldn’t remember ever feeling worse than I did at that moment. We walked to the Santiago subway and I made it to the meeting.

I didn’t last more than 30 minutes before I did something I had never done before or since – I had to excuse myself from the meeting. I was so uncomfortable I couldn’t focus on anything, and I felt very feverish. I shuffled back to the subway and went back to the apartment.

I went straight back to bed, and luckily someone saw me on my way there – our maid. We had this wonderful lady who cleaned our apartment, did our laundry and cooked our meals, and when she saw me she apparently was horrified. She really didn’t say anything to me about it, but her next action probably saved me from something really, really bad.

She immediately called one of the wives of a teammate who lived in Santiago and said (translated to English), “you better come over here, Terry looks green“. 10 minutes later she showed up, took one look at me and promptly implored me to accompany her to a local hospital, “right now”.

Of course, I really wasn’t thinking about seeing a doctor. This thing was just going to blow over with a good day’s rest. I protested for a few minutes, but eventually I caved and off we went to a hospital.

I was very happy my companion spoke Spanish – mine was pretty inadequate. She was able to get me into an examining room very quickly, and next thing I knew I was told I had a fever of 105, and needed a shot in the behind of antibiotics immediately.

I wasn’t in any position to question this diagnosis, so I took the shot. I also got a prescription for medicine to take over the course of the next week. The doctor wanted to admit me into the hospital, but my companion, apparently knowing something that I didn’t, managed to convince him that she would be happy to take me home and keep an eye on me.

So I got my medicine and went back to the apartment, and to bed. The shot and pills were quite effective and within a few days I was back on my feet. Turns out, it was a very good thing I got medical treatment when I did – the tests revealed I had one nasty intestinal bug that if left untreated could have done some serious damage.

It was that pork sandwich – why in the world did I get pork? I knew that this particular meat could be dangerous, even in the US. How idiotic could I be?

Luckily, that wonderful maid had the presence of mind (and the concern) to call somebody to bail me out. I think of her often, and my thanks knows no bounds. Same goes for the person who took me to the hospital. Their kindness was extraordinary.

Did I learn my lesson – did I use more discretion with food on my foreign excursions ? I wish I could report a complete “yes”, but at least the two other times I got sick overseas after this incident it didn’t involve a hospital. And at it wasn’t pork.

But I’d say the lesson has generally stuck with me very well over the past 12 years. If I ever get fuzzy I just queue up “Band On the Run“, and presto, wariness restored.

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