It wouldn’t have been a proper goodbye between me and my study abroad experience if I had left in good health. No, no, instead, Madagascar waited. It waited until I had physically left the country and then it attacked.
In the beginning of my 4 hour layover which proceeded an 11 hour flight, I said hello to another round of food poisoning or maybe worms or some sort of mysterious stomach bug. With Madagascar… it could really be a lot of things. The kind of stomach bug that makes me vomit every two hours. The kind stomach bug that wants to come out of every orifice I have whenever it says so.
So here I am, sitting in my airplane, in the window seat, wishing desperately that I was in an aisle, when of course, in the way that fate likes to work, an adorable Reunionain sits next to me.
Attractive men never sit next to me on planes! They don’t! But no, on the plane ride where I’m about to be throwing up into bags for 11 hours, Laurence takes his seat. We chat and then I awkwardly drop of the conversation to build a vomit fort.
And now we’re 3 hours in and the situation has only gotten worse. I’ve constructed a small tent with my airplane blanket and have been ducking into it and throwing up into a Ziploc bag. Unfortunately the bag is nearly full (of pretty much only water and stomach bile or whatever is still left in me, so it’s not that gross) so now I’m going to have to smuggle this bag of vomit to the bathroom where I’ll be rinsing it out and reusing it.
I am so unhappy.
And that’s where I’m at… possibly the lowest point of my study abroad experience and now I have to truck through a week of Paris before seeing my doctor. I want to cry, crawl in a hole and never eat again. Help.
[7 hours later…]
I’m hopeful that the vomiting has stopped, but it’s hard to be certain. So far the count is at 7. I have now added to the list of life happenings: Using an airline barf bag, using a Ziploc bag as a vomit bag, cleaning out a Ziploc bag in an airplane bathroom and mastering the art of silent puking. Yay! (That was the most sarcastic “yay” I’ve ever written by the way.) I am at one of my most miserable states in life.
Somewhere in the middle of the flight, I got so desperate that I tried to call my mom with an airplane phone. It was bad when I read the line that said “10 dollars a minute” and thought… yeah it’s worth it. 10 dollars! That’s 20,000 Ariary! More money than you need to feed yourself for a couple days in Madagascar. I’m feeling a bit heartbroken to have left. It’s starting to set in… even when I know that because of Madagascar, I’m throwing up my entire life into bags in the window seat, I still miss it horribly. That might be grounds for an abusive relationship.
I can’t stop drinking water. I’m so thirsty, but it makes me throw up. But I keep drinking it… trying to pace myself with little baby sips and then the part of me that hates self-control and moderation tips the entire cup down my throat and it’s gone. Commence cycle of stomach pains, nausea and vomiting.
This is happened seven times. I want to cry.
I am not happy. Tsy faly.
PS. The vomiting appears to have stopped! J I am significantly less miserable, but still mal au ventre. Wah.
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