I realise now that I’ve stared getting careless with my travel. I rarely use hand sanitiser, I brush my teeth using the tap water, and I’ve been eating street food more and more. Everything’s been fine for me living this way. But this week discovered that just because the locals are eating it doesn’t mean gringos can.

During our road trip along the Ecuadorian coast, Paco and I have been eating all kinds of local food. The bus terminals have snack places that sell chifles (banana crisps), sweets and drinks, and the other day we ate something wrapped in banana leaves sold to us on the bus that tasted just like banana cake without the flour.

So the other night when we were walking along the main street of Mompiche, a nice coastal town in the Esmeraldas region, we decided to eat some street food. All the locals were eating empanadas that looked delicious. This is when I should have opened my eyes and thought about what I was doing. I didn’t see any travelers or gringos eating the street food. Though there are not many travelers here due to low season, it’s something I should have paid attention to.

Paco and I were staying in a cabin that was kind of a tree house. It had a ladder to get up into the room made from bamboo, with open windows and a bed covered with a mosquito net. The bathroom was below, which meant we needed to climb back down the ladder to reach it.

It was incredibly idyllic…until 3am when I found myself vomiting violently out of the window, followed by a difficult scramble down the ladder to the bathroom to deal with severe diarrhea.

This continued for the rest of the night. At 8am the next morning Paco found an open pharmacy and bought me Pedialyte, a re-hydration drink. We were both very aware of how much I needed to keep my sugar levels up. Unfortunately a couple of hours later the Pedialyte had had no affect and I was getting worse. Constant vomiting and diarrhea had dehydrated my body so rapidly I could barely stand up.

So with no food or fluid in my system at all, Paco took charge and we went to the medical clinic here in Mompiche.

I’ve never visited an international doctor in all my time traveling. I always worry about the cost, quality of treatment and language barrier, preferring to deal with sickness myself. But Paco knew I was well beyond self-help.

The small medical clinic on the main road of Mompiche is a rundown building with paint peeling off the walls. A nurse sits at the reception desk with one doctor in the only office. I gave my passport number and personal details to the nurse who spoke no English, incredibly grateful to have Paco with me to translate.

We were shown into the doctor’s office and, after hearing what had happened and that I was a type 1 diabetic, he quickly ordered IV fluids.

I lay on the bed for hours in the small doctors while two bags of IV fluid ran into me as well as medication to relieve my nausea., watching as other patients came into the small room and to be treated as I lay there.

Mompiche doctor

But whilst the office was small and certainly not like any Western medical facility I’ve visit, the treatment was great. The doctor was constantly checking me, the nurse taking my blood pressure and sugar level.

Once both bags of fluid had finished and I was feeling better than I had four hours earlier, the doctor sat with Paco and I to explain the course of antibiotics I needed to take, the re-hydration powder I need to drink for the next few days and the paracetamol for the fever I was likely to get.

I didn’t have any insulin at all yesterday, I was just too sick. My body had nothing in it and my sugar level was stable enough to not need it. The doctor also advised to only eat a very small amount of food over the next few days, and only if I really needed it. I should really just stick with the re-hydration drinks.

He gave us all the drugs whilst we sat in his office, and it didn’t cost me anything. Ecuador is a socialist country and anyone who needs medical treatment will receive it, which was amazing for me.

I’m happy to say that as I write this I’m starting to feel a lot better. It’s 2pm in the afternoon after yesterday’s clinic visit and the antibiotics are starting to work.

By eating the street food here, I ingested a bacteria that the locals are used to and have built an immunity to. This happens a lot in foreign countries. The locals can handle different food from the visitors because they have built a resistance. My body however saw this bacteria as an infection it needed to be rid of immediately.

So I’ll be much more careful with street food from now on. This is possibly the sickest I have ever been in my life, and I’m not looking to repeat it.