Consider this your warning! |
Every journey begins with a single
step.
My recent journey to Baja, California
began with two coffee stouts at the airport Schaffley's, a grande
latte (mine) and an in-depth discussion of intestinal revolution. We
were three middle aged women traveling to a country notorious for
its digestion hating microbes. However, Montezuma was an intestinal amateur. We raised bowel problems to a professional level.
After much discussion travel toilet
paper, antibacterial wipes, bottled versus filtered water, hazmat
protocol for airplane toilets and finally...'adult padding', I came
to the realization that we were, in fact, traveling with the original
CrapMonkey.*
We devised a checklist prior to leaving
our host's home:
Toilet paper? Check.
Baby wipes? Check.
Daily...constitutional? Um...check?
Our hostess had done her homework and
gave us a bathroom status at each place we stopped. These varied from
'super clean' to 'bring your own toilet paper and don't touch
anything or you can't reenter the house until you go through the
decontam shower.'
We were warned. Don't drink the water.
Don't eat the ice. Don't eat anything you can't peel or cook. Don't
throw your toilet paper into the commode.
Wait. What?
It would appear that while Montezuma
thought it hilarious to curse travelers to his lovely country with
intestinal distress, he failed to equip his countrymen with a sewer
system to handle flushing inorganic matter. Dude! Charmin – Enjoy
the Go – Fail!
Yet, the trip moved forward with little
incident. I even threw caution to the wind and poured my bottled
water over ice one afternoon while taste testing sashimi tuna fresh
off the boat. My hostess reassured me that they had lived in country
for several years now and had never been sick. With this vote of
confidence I moved forward with my vacation motto – 'No chain food
and try something new each day' – and tried the ceviche tostados.
It was only after I ate a grilled Serrano pepper that she mentioned
the need to take anti-microbial medication every six months.
FULL DISCLOSURE, PEOPLE!! full
disclosure...
I lived in fear for thirty-six hours.
But, except for a tense moment standing in a long immigration line
being taunted by a bathroom beyond our entry level, the trip was
without toileting incident.
Taunting! Taunting me with the fresh picked, non-shipped colors and freshness. Curse you Montezuma! |
Stay tuned! The next installment here
at the CoastofIllinois – How to do Customs or Let's Kick it Up a
Notch!
*CrapMonkey is the trademark of my
sister who coined this term after years of living in a house where
cursing was barely tolerated. It is suitable for use as a noun or a
verb. And occasionally as a Proper Name.
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