A week ago, I was huddled up in a coat and two scarves at Frankfurt’s Commerzbank Stadium, cheering on the home team to a rather mediocre 1-0 victory. While I was excited about my first live German soccer/football experience, the swirling cigarette smoke and currywurst fumes made me woozy rather than wound-up, and I was a little worried about the cold I’d felt coming on for the last day and a half.
By the time the game ended, and we were running along the pathway to the parking lot, determined to beat the rush of fans that had kept my friends trapped in hour-long gridlock the last time they’d visited the stadium, I knew I was in trouble. Jogging a couple hundred meters left me out of breath, and the coughing started not long after we’d gotten in the car.
Monday morning, I spent a miserable 3 hours in trains headed back to Wernigerode, and not long after I’d arrived, I was texting teachers and students, canceling all of my responsibilities for the day. On Tuesday, I wasn’t any better (healthier), and before you know it, my sick “day” had turned into a week: 7 long days of battling the German viruses.
In other words, besides sleep, my week looked like a whole lot of this:
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| The contents of my self-assembled survival kit: Burt's Bees (from home), Kamill hand lotion, Heiße Zitrone Vitamin C packets, Grippostad C cold medicine, Soft & Sicher tissues and Ricola sugar free sage throat lozenges. Ready, fight! |
To be perfectly honest, I’d never considered myself prone to illness, before I moved to Germany, that is. Sure there’d be the almost inevitable cold at the end of the term, post finals, but nothing major. Last year, it seemed like every other weekend had me holed up in bed with a cold. I’ve had more problems with unexplained stomach aches this year, but apparently all the viruses were just waiting to team up on me.
Due to my less-than-desirable but considerable experience with colds last year, I felt, at least, semi-prepared to take on the bug this time around and had assembled a survival kit of sorts.
· Grippostad C: In the states, I loathe cold medicine because the shaky, dizzying side effects are almost worse than the illness itself; however, this cold medicine pretty much fights against everything, effectively, sans nausea.
· Heiße Zitrone: To me, the cold version of this drink is the only thing in Germany that tastes remotely like the lemonade from home and, to the Germans, it’s a veritable magic potion of disease fighting powers, packed with Vitamin C. Empty a few packets into a glass for a new spin on the “If life gives you lemons….” saying!
The rest of my survival kit consists of items you’d find in the U.S., too, but apart from the Burt’s Bees chap stick (one of the few things I’ve consistently imported), the German equivalents are somewhat superior in my mind.
· Soft & Sicher tissues: Perhaps it’s the super thick paper itself or the multiple layers, but the German equivalent of Kleenex are super soft and heavy duty. When I blew my nose, I could be certain it’d stay in the tissue and not blast through into my hands.
· Kamill hand lotion: Nonetheless, since I’d wash my hands every time I blew my nose (frequently), my poor skin was drying out like raisins, necessitating repair care. The orange “express” version leaves your hands instantly soft, but the green tube with chamomile extract is another favorite.
· Ricola’s sugar-free sage drops: I didn’t need to suck on too many throat lozenges last week – thankfully, a sore throat was one of the precious few symptoms I didn’t have – but I was prepared, just in case. In the past, my apartment has been littered with the little purple and white wrappers after many bouts with bugs.
Finally, a week later, I’m feeling ready to return to society, though I’ll still have my tissues close at hand. And, of course, it can’t hurt to keep drinking lemonade…er heiße Zitrone, right?
What experiences have you had fighting bugs in foreign lands? And what country-specific remedies have you found to help get you healthy again?
