Luckily for me, and unlike many women I know, food and fear do not go together. Except in South America, it´s food russian roulette. Sucre´s not too bad actually, I haven´t been sick here once yet, unlike La Paz. And the thing is, you can´t pinpoint it on anything because different strands of bacteria take different amounts of time to manifest. Was it the quesadilla that did it? Or the guacamole, which is, I read recently, falsely presumed as an innocent. A lotta people get sick from guac apparently.
So after a week of lying in bed, at the Wild Rover hostel in La Paz (the worst place to get it, with every early 20 something running rings around you and shotting tequila) with no energy, no appetite, having to crawl down from a tall bunk bed in the middle of the night to go to the loo, using your mobile phone as a torch so as to not wake your dorm mates, restless legs from severe natural electrolyte loss, I´m scared, literally shitless to eat anything.
But this is only when you´re feeling dodgy. Once better, you kind of forget what it felt like, kinda like the way women forget childbirth, and you´re ready to go out and EAT again! Oh the joy.
But I feel, better to go balls out and just eat without fear, and hey, at least I wasn´t that poor british girl that got the works on my salt flats tour. She had to regularly ask the jeep driver to pull over so she could vom and take a watery dump. MMmmmmmm travelling.
I miss Melbourne food so much. Particular shout outs to my local vegan haunts: Fina´s and Smith & Deli. I´m fantasizing about y´all the same way I do about Charlie Hunnam! <MMMmmmmmmmmm