Today sees the first anniversary of my world travels. This time last year I was sitting on board a flight to San Francisco with everything and nothing stretched out before me like an unwoven tapestry you attempt to complete after several tequilas. A Rainbow-Bright colour-in felt scene where you’ve scribbled over the lines. A paint-by-numbers completed with a masonry brush and a blindfold. You get the picture(s). I didn’t know where I was going, what I was doing, who I would be meeting, what glorious sights and experiences would enthrall me, or how many times I would be sitting on the toilet pissing out of my ass. Today was one of those days.
Sometime in the middle of the night I’ve woken to the unmistakable death-throes of an infected stomach. A beast is gnawing at my gut from the inside, desperately trying to regain its freedom. It’s literally seconds before I realise I need to make the bathroom and right on cue, a friend has exactly the same idea. We’re in tandem for most of the night, the usually quiet hostel corridor enriched with a cacophonic symphony of violent retching. After about the 8th time, I feel I have nothing left to give and long to shuffle off the mortal coil and be at peace. It’s then it begins at the other end.
I won’t go into the gory details dear readers, lest you’re eating Coco Pops as you peruse my warblings. Did anyone else find that whenever you sat down in front of the telly with a bowl of your favourite milky cereal, that an advert for babies nappies would come on? Either that or some kid has just managed to drop a foul smell and a Glade Plug-In was coming to the rescue? Anyway just a case in point. I return to my bed to be subjected to my stomach talking to me for the rest of the day, interspersed with snatches of troubled sleep.
So there it is really. My one year party plan put on ice as I attempt to recover from a mystery hostel illness. Just about everyone has been or is struck down with it, and contrary to what you may perceive it has nothing to do with booze. This time. Granted the 52% alcoholic tea might not have done us any favours, but we’ve all definitely contracted something dodgy. I’m betting my bottom dollar a kebab is involved.
Anyway nasty fever, cold sweats and shivers aside, a big thank you to everyone who made this year what it was. It would take me a long time to pick individual moments, cite special people, or detail particular epic experiences, but suffice to say it wouldn’t have been as incredible without you. I didn’t realise I would ever gain so many lifelong friends from just setting foot outside the door. Here’s to the next year, and you’re all still with me every step of the way. Including in the toilet.
One year away and hugging a toliet
Today sees the first anniversary of my world travels. This time last year I was sitting on board a flight to San Francisco with everything and nothing stretched out before me like an unwoven tapestry you attempt to complete after several tequilas. A Rainbow-Bright colour-in felt scene where you’ve scribbled over the lines. A paint-by-numbers completed with a masonry brush and a blindfold. You get the picture(s). I didn’t know where I was going, what I was doing, who I would be meeting, what glorious sights and experiences would enthrall me, or how many times I would be sitting on the toilet pissing out of my ass. Today was one of those days.
Sometime in the middle of the night I’ve woken to the unmistakable death-throes of an infected stomach. A beast is gnawing at my gut from the inside, desperately trying to regain its freedom. It’s literally seconds before I realise I need to make the bathroom and right on cue, a friend has exactly the same idea. We’re in tandem for most of the night, the usually quiet hostel corridor enriched with a cacophonic symphony of violent retching. After about the 8th time, I feel I have nothing left to give and long to shuffle off the mortal coil and be at peace. It’s then it begins at the other end.
I won’t go into the gory details dear readers, lest you’re eating Coco Pops as you peruse my warblings. Did anyone else find that whenever you sat down in front of the telly with a bowl of your favourite milky cereal, that an advert for babies nappies would come on? Either that or some kid has just managed to drop a foul smell and a Glade Plug-In was coming to the rescue? Anyway just a case in point. I return to my bed to be subjected to my stomach talking to me for the rest of the day, interspersed with snatches of troubled sleep.
So there it is really. My one year party plan put on ice as I attempt to recover from a mystery hostel illness. Just about everyone has been or is struck down with it, and contrary to what you may perceive it has nothing to do with booze. This time. Granted the 52% alcoholic tea might not have done us any favours, but we’ve all definitely contracted something dodgy. I’m betting my bottom dollar a kebab is involved.
Anyway nasty fever, cold sweats and shivers aside, a big thank you to everyone who made this year what it was. It would take me a long time to pick individual moments, cite special people, or detail particular epic experiences, but suffice to say it wouldn’t have been as incredible without you. I didn’t realise I would ever gain so many lifelong friends from just setting foot outside the door. Here’s to the next year, and you’re all still with me every step of the way. Including in the toilet.