So I’ve landed in Bangkok with plenty of time to kill before my last flight home. I decided to treat myself to some good thai food, I am in Thailand after all. I’d almost forgot how good thai food is, particularly in Thailand. As I will be sitting on my butt for hours and hopefully sleeping more on the next flight, I’m giving the carbs a miss entirely. I’ve ordered a few of my favourites. Tom yum gung, satay and lemon ice tea. I ordered the beef satay because thai chicken satay tends to be fairly dry, but they made a mistake and when I saw how tender and juicy the chicken was I opted not to complain but accept it as a fortunate mistake. Both dishes are really delicious and the ice tea tastes… like tea, so good. Too bad it cost an arm and a leg though. Might take a while to get re accustomed to dropping that kind of cash again.
The flight here from Nairobi was fine. I scored the middle three seats all to myself. So I sprawled out and snoozed after watching one thoroughly disappointing movie. My plan didn’t include sleeping on the first two flights, but I’ve formulated a new plan to just sleep as much as possible on every flight and arrive bright eyed and bushy tailed early Sunday morning (fingers crossed).
While I’m posting I might as well cover the events of a couple of weeks ago which I have forgotten to mention until now.
I’d managed to go over three months in Tanzania with only one mild case of the squirts. I’m most often lucky in that regard. However, the Monday of the week before the Easter break, I felt so unbelievably tired and lost my appetite. I forced down my usual, gargantuan serving of beans and rice and took a nap. Regardless of napping I still felt lousy and my stomach was cramping a bit. I ignored it and went out for dinner, once again forcing down my food professing that I’ll be absolutely fine. That evening I went to sleep unbelievably bloated and woke shortly after with waves of nausea. I’m sure you can imagine the rest. After a few days of keeping within three metres of the bowl, I lay in bed covered in blankets and clothing, fairly spaced out and lacking the mental capacity to realise I had a fever. With the aid of some wonderful angels; Hana, Kerri, and Felicity, I was taken to hospital and hooked up to an IV twice over and tested for Malaria, Typhoid and the like. Turns out it was just something I ate. Still can’t figure out for sure what it was, but it messed me up something fierce. While being admitted to hospital I was weighed, to find that in the space of four days I’d lost 5kg. 5kg I couldn’t really afford to lose. I’ve been eating like a fatty as much as I can to catch up, but don’t be surprised if I look a little scrawny upon return.
The day after going to hospital I grabbed my backpack and hopped on a 12hr bus ride to Dar Es Salaam for a few days and then onto Zanzibar all the while taking course of antibiotics to fight off whatever was in my stomach. Only to find that the bright pink antibiotics I’d been given caused an allergic reaction in the form of a small rash on one hand that day by day spread to other parts of my body. So another trip to the doc was in order. Wouldn’t you know it, more antibiotics, this time to fight off the allergic reaction. I managed to enjoy an amazing adventure all the same. Which I will blog about when I get home.