Saturday, April 21, 2012

Post Script

Apologies for that last bit of venting. Time and perspective tell me that I'm actually fine. My stomach and foot are well and good, and fortunately I have enough savings that money is just numbers in the bank. I'll pretend I lost it in the stock market, or something else grown ups do, when they're busy not getting robbed in 3rd world countries.

And now, back to photos of beautiful places and cute children:

Friday, April 20, 2012

So, yeah.

I got poisoned by shrimps. Our bungalow had a toilet of the water-pouring-instead-of-flushing variety so the smell of previous bathroom trips was close at hand all 6 (or was it 7?) times I vomitted. The mosquitoes had no mercy and filled up on me while I was busy purging. The power went off at 7am and without the fan the heat went from opressively fucking hot to OPPRESSIVELY FUCKING HOT. My one bottle of water ran out around the 3rd puke or so, so for the rest I could just shish and spit the non-potable tap water and dry heave and be dehydrated until the shops opened up in the morning. But now I'm better.

It was a wooden sish-kebab skewer, dirty, and lieing flat on the ground. And then it was, somehow, stuck inside the top of my foot. It was dangling there under my birkenstock strap and it didn't hurt until after Kyle pulled it out and he agrees it was in there about a half centimetre. Now I can't bend my toes very much, and my shoes rub it, but I think it's just a dull stick being inserted into my foot meat kind of issue and not infection issue.

They were buried under 20 ob tampons, the kind without the applicator. I'm not saying if there were applicators it would have changed anything, but I want you to know he (or she) was up to his (or her) wrist in vaginal cotton swabs before they found the roll of bills. I won't tell you how much...well, fuck it. It was around $600. That's not including the $15 Canadian I've been carrying for the last 2 years, which was hidden in an entirely different part of my bag. They did have the luxury of time, I suppose, to rifle around through my things since I had, as the sign at reception suggested, left my key with them so as not to be lost or stolen elsewhere and accrue a modest fine.

Anyway, I laid down to sleep after a 15 hour bus ride this morning and there was hair and jizz on my bed. So when we went to see a statue of the largest reclining Buddah later I just wanted to take pictures of garbage and shit. Maybe that's allowed though.