Haute Couture De Canabalisme.

So plainly I didn't think out my wardrode carefully. The T-shirts from *plug* www.threadless.com were DEF a mistake. So I brought 4 of them with me, only one of which is 'safe'. Particularly unpopular is my baby-pink one, sporting the phrase: "Meat is Murder, tasty, tasty murder." - particularly if read aloud by a Glaswegian. And there nearly WAS a murder. Also not quite acceptable is my favorite hangover T-shirt, which - for those who haven't seen me hungover (ie: Mom) is a bright orangey-yellow t-shirt featuring a clown throwing up a rainbow, into a toilet. A cartoon clown, you understand, otherwise that would just be sick. A ha ha. Third, and least offensive is the one with the line up of fruit, all shouting words which rhyme with themselves - though the stupid American banana is shouting "Montana" to ruin things. I like the little grape shouting "escape" best. Then the orange, sitting there crying it's little screwed up eyes out because - oh indeed - nothing rhymes with orange. My chest has been getting a LOT of attention, and NIAGW.

So after another night in agony, unable to sleep and either freezing or boiling, I dragged my sorry @ss to the Pharmacy and got the anti-biotics that are less kind to eColi. SCORE! I am now feeling 101% better than I was - no longer constantly faint and nauseous - and officially back on the game. Err - the ball. Fairly sure saying I'm "on the game' is going to tar my reputation more than spending a week sans food. However, rumour, conjecture, and every site I've read about total fasting, say that Day 3 and/or 4 are the worst. So having done 48 hours now, I need to be aware of being cocky. Pride before fall etc.

I haven't been even slightly hungry. I had to get extra herbs for my broth tonight, just to ensure I drank most of it. They bring a side-plate with ginger, lemongrass, coriander, garlic, lime and cayenne pepper for you to add as desired. That made it quite palateable, though I really missed the salt and pepper. And an icy glass of my favorite dry white wine. Not really, I've had no cravings, and no appetite so far. Amy and Tess reckon this would be the ideal place to write a cookbook, as all they do is talk about food. I've already decided I'm doing break-fast in the real sense, with fresh pineapple and lime juice. Nice. Then airplane fud - aka Toxin City..

Saw an advert for a restaurant called "Capain Kirk's"...out of this world food, apparently, errr and a slogan of "Let us beam you into a culinary galaxy". Ai. Ai. Ai.

Anyhoo, I spent today dozing in my hammock or catching a few rays back at my bungalow, reading books lent to me by Yvonne - ace. Watching the rain sweeping in across the valley, and the sun blazing while it chucked it down. V purdy and reminded me of Durban. Tomorrow, in honour of the gabazillion palm-trees I can see from my terrace, I am going to have coconut water, drunk straight out of the coconut which they have the decency to keep in fridges. I might, by that time, be fantasising about slinging in some vodka and pineapple juice.

Bonsoir, and hopefully I'll get more out+about tomorrow, so this is less me-me-me.

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