Food Posioning

So, do you really want to know what I'd like to post on Facebook right now, but won't? Something I'd like to share but most people won't want to know? Well, have you ever traveled in the Global South or even just somewhere completely new to you? Were you food adventurous? If so, you probably can find a spot of kinship in what I'd like to talk about. For folks who haven't really traveled outside of the lower 48, who eat only at Western fast food restaurants or haute cuisine when they have left their home area, there's a secret you aren't in on. It's called "the shits."

This is a trial by fire, an initiation of sorts, and a sign of a real traveller. When you have experienced "traveller's diarrhea" you belong to an exclusive club. People who have traveled can talk extensively to one another about their bowel activity without embarrassment. In fact, it is a bonding experience. I don't mean your run of the mill "Monteczuma's Revenge" from a bit of disorientation and new food. I'm talking about cramps that have you in tears and well, here's the thing (don't read this if you are sensitive or prudish) you don't know if you're pissing or shitting. You may also be puking your guts out at the exact same moment, not sure whether to sit onto or hang over the toilet.

More than likely you are also experiencing this in a strange environment. When I say that I mean, not a classy porcelain commode with a nice door and toilet paper. You may not have a door, in fact, you may have an audience. You may not have anything akin to toilet paper and you may not even have more than a concrete pad with two "footprints" indicating where you are supposed to stand.

If you know what I'm talking about, and you've been there, then you understand when I say I can't wait for a hot bath in order to soak things that are not terribly comfortable from a week worth of food poisoning. When I say I am so happy to be able to eat  more than a spoonful of applesauce or a banana.

What really sucks is that when travelling for any length of time, this kind of experience can be a good thing and can get your internal bacteria primed for really enjoying the local fare. When you're not even travelling, but you've eaten delicious homemade cheese that travelled far just for you. When you've delighted in the knowledge that this cheese was made with love and care, organic milk and organic feed. When this cheese was made with live cultures and it literally tastes alive, full of life and good for you, but you are in Seattle and you should know better than to eat this straight without cooking it. It's just hellish. There's no payoff. There's no cuisine that I'm prepping for. I can't benefit from a flora of new bacteria that will allow me to continue explorations as there's no exploring to be done.

Damn. I'm going to go soak my ass now. Night.