Backpacking through India is a lot like consuming a high powered hallucinogenic; you see things beyond reality, you question the definition of sanity, and you go through a phase of puking. It's inevitable. Everyone who travels here will be sick at some point in the journey. My day was today. A 5:30AM wake up in a cold sweat lead me up to the rooftop of the guest house to capture the sun emerging between two buildings. That was the highlight of the day. Then it was back downstairs for heavy breathing, dry heaving and toilet grieving. I acted quickly, knowing there was only one shared wash room, and I couldn't live in it, so I grabbed a bucket and locked myself in my room for the massacre. I should've grabbed two buckets. Mr. Bohlu's mom was ready with water and a pack of electrolytes. She also hooked me up with some traditional home remedies. This is one of the great benefits of staying at a family guest house.
After every 'session' in my bucket I laid back on the bed and absorbed my surroundings. All four walls were decorated with framed pictures of deceased family members and Indian gods like Vishnu, Ganesh and Shiva, all staring down at me, offering comfort and encouragement.
Read Day 7
After every 'session' in my bucket I laid back on the bed and absorbed my surroundings. All four walls were decorated with framed pictures of deceased family members and Indian gods like Vishnu, Ganesh and Shiva, all staring down at me, offering comfort and encouragement.
Read Day 7
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