La clinica no existe mas aquí!!!
This building (and this phone number) used to be an endocronology clinic, and they didn´t do a very good PR job when they moved house:- 4 months after opening as a hostel, we still get 5-15 phone calls for them each day. To the extent that, with my limited Spanish, if I don´t hear the words ´reserva´ or ´noche´ or ´Nico´ in the first 10 seconds, there’s a good chance that if I interject with ‘quieres la clinica?’, we can quickly and painlessly get the call wrapped up and all move on with our lives. However we’ve had a few occasions to wish we were a clinic these past weeks: I think it all started with my monster feet (allergic reaction to cheap ballet pumps – sorry feet, i´m on a budget!), but then we’ve had Kayley’s neverending tonsillitis (if you would just stay in bed and take the pills…), my body’s violent fluey aversion to returning to work after 2 and a half months off, a chronic stomach bug that almost prevented one couple experiencing the joys of la Cabrera steak, and even a malaria scare! (It wasn’t malaria, thank goodness). We hope you are all feeling better….
Nico, do you think we could set up some commission from the hospital Britanico for giving them such good business?
It’s a strange thing being ill in a hostel – so publicly, with strangers, staff and passengers watching you pad about in your pyjamas feeling sorry for yourself, trying to stifle coughs and sniffs and other physical malfunctions because the rest of your dorm is TRYING to sleep, and attempting to remain polite/cheerful/sociable so you don’t become a complete social outcast when you recover. Not only that, but being ill is when you feel most homesick – you want your own duvet, your own bed, your sofa, your pink fluffy slippers and your complete Friends box set to work your way through. This is when you just want a real cup of tea, chicken soup in the cupboard, and all the pills, potions and lotions that are going to make you feel better without having to go out to the farmacia and learn how to ask for them in Spanish. You don’t want everyone to see you miserable, pale, grumpy, without makeup, and asking how you are with the best and friendliest of intentions. You want your own space and privacy and to not have to talk to anyone until you feel better.
What I’m trying to say, dear pasajeros, is that yes, being ill away from home does suck, but yes, it will probably happen to you at some point on your travels. Most of all, yes we know how you feel – we’ve been there too. So if you need to cower grumpily over a mug of lemsip in the corner of the bar and not talk to anyone, or you want to hide all day behind your bed curtains listening to soft rock ballads on your i-pod, that’s fine, we understand 
Debs
