Whoop There It Is

My very first Indian gut rot! I think my bowels have turned to knives. I’m pretty sure I didn’t even eat anything to deserve it. Screw you, knife bowels. Fortunately I learnt my lesson after South America and I brought a shit tonne (pun intended. Not even sorry) of Immodium and rehydration sachets with me so I’ve pretty much spent the morning sipping what could be a kill or cure slightly salty solution in between shitting liquid and feeling appallingly sorry for myself. I used to brag of a cast iron stomach forged in a pit of angry bacteria until South America happened. Have you ever tried miming “the shits” to a pharmacist in a country where you don’t speak the language whilst your lower intestine ties itself in knots and attempts to expel anything you put into it in the worst way possible?


Plain rice and a banana lassi, for when your intestines are committing mutiny.

Once I felt like I could trust my sphincter muscle again I ventured out to stuff plain, steamed rice and a banana lassi into my facehole on account of this being the Indian answer to your stomach refusing to to function correctly. A lot of people get this way worse than me, they’re bedridden for a day, sometimes several days. At least I can stand up in between doubling over in pain which is good because I have to be on a train for five hours from 4am tomorrow. Show must go on and all that. But basically, this fucking sucks. I want a bowl of cream of chicken soup from a can, a nice ciabatta roll, and my mum.

Agra, Uttar Pradesh, India
Stayed at: Zostel Agra


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