literally another aussie in london

my ass in Sri Lanka

Two minutes of breathing the air in Colombo was enough for me to know that Colombo wasn’t my kind of place. Too hot, too humid, too loud, and that kind of feeling in your stomach that makes you want to leave as soon as possible. The two hour car ride to the hotel convinced me of two things, I’d probably enjoy Sri Lanka, but probably only once I left Colombo.

Upon arriving at the hotel I met my family, whom were all sticky from the conditions. It was nice to see them, but it was horrible to hug wet people after a long flight of no sleep. Being at a ridiculously posh resort I knew that I could get away with eating western food. Even though I had prepared for Sri Lankan food, I really wasn’t ready to start it when feeling sticky as hell. So I had a burger. It was ok, I’ve had worse ones in the US. I rate burgers on the American scale at all times.

I didn’t really get much of a chance to really snoop around Colombo, my trip to the cricket for the test was cancelled because of the travel involved. It was a shame, all I saw of Colombo when I wasn’t in a car was a bunch of local shoe shops where I looked for a pair of leather sandals. Instead I ended up with cheap plastic substitutes. 3 quid. Not bad, but they weren’t the heavenly thong/jandal/flipflop I was looking for.

The next day was taken up by waiting for our first anniversary wedding revision for Sri Lankan hangers on. A party for those who missed the real wedding. That was the main reason for the trip, and while I was looking forward to meeting a whole room full of people who didn’t know my name, I was really looking forward to the holiday after it. The actual event went pretty smooth; we walked in (I in my Indian style white safari suit thing, her in her mother’s sari) on what seemed like a red carpet as every person in the room took photos and left their flashes on to blind us. I’d never felt more like a rock star, or less like one.

Then was the getting to know people bit. Where we walked around and I became my wife’s political lackie. Moving her from table to table, making sure she covered everyone and didn’t get too distracted by meeting the people she actually did know. It actually became a challenge for me to make my wife talk to as many people as possible and more than any of the rest of the wedding aprty. Then was the food, and the ice sculpture.

Apparently ice sculptures are the done thing in Sri Lanka. So we, (me, wife, and bro n sis in law) asked for a koala riding an elephant drinking a cup of tea. If you are going to have an ice scupltupre, you are already absurd, so you might as well go for it. The idea was the perfect blend of both couples. Instead we got this, which was more realistic, and still pretty cool.

At dinner I did partake in some of the local food. I popped in some sort of beef curry type deal, and then ate the local kurd. Probably because I was drunk, or because I was convinced my mum said she was eating turd.

After the party I drank more, and then went to sleep. At around 4am I woke up. And that is when it started, the shits. Those shits. The ‘I travelled away from home’ shits. The first few shits were as bad as any sort of diarrhoea (one of the all time best words). But then shit got real. So to speak.

I went white, the shit kept coming. Then I started feeling dead. Not dead, dead, but dead enough. We were supposed to finish the weekend with a civilised dinner at a relatives house, but my ass just wouldn’t quit. So while the others were enjoying Sri Lankan hospitality I was painting the porcelain yellowy brown every 45 minutes.

It couldn’t get much worse, then it did. I sharted. What was worse was that I sharted (if you didn’t click the link, a shart is a fart where shit comes out) while laying in bed. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get off a bed when you are sicker than R Kelly and your ass is covered with shit. I never noticed that everytime I get off a bed my ass hits the surface. Now I was stuck with a shitty butt, and trying like hell to roll off the bed and not end up staining the carpet. After 8 minutes, I managed it. Even though it was a private victory, I really believed I had accomplished something.

It couldn’t get much worse, then it did. The mouth came onboard to. It probably felt left out. All day I had been waiting for the inevitable vomit, but nothing had come, so it surprised me when it did and I almost got to the toilet before I did. Instead I painted the hall of the room with vomit, then finally vomited in the toilet while I shit myself at the same time. It was funny, but it was a ‘had to be there’ kind of thing.

In a hotel room you don’t really have the tools needed for cleaning up vomit. So I called the cleaners in. I was hoping for some sort of Harvey Keitel type person to come in and just take charge of the situation. Instead I got a young bloke who looked like he had received his first vomit call. He did clean it quite well, but I had to look over his work and tell him to clean the wall, the plastic bags, the toilet and take the shit stained bathmat.

With his cleaning skills and my knowledge of what I had and hadn’t dirtied, he had the room clean in 20 minutes and I have him more rupees than he probably makes in a day as a tip. He may have been downhearted when he arrived, but after cleaning all that vomit and shit, he had the cash in his hand, and he left with a huge smile you that wouldn’t let you believe he had just cleaned up human waste. I felt better mentally, but still very fucken crook.

Then the doctor came over when the wife came over and I had blanket on. I don’t really use blankets that often, and using them in Sri Lanka with air conditioning on was enough for her to know I had more than the runs. According to the doctor, and his well behaved two bag carriers, I had food poisoning. And he put me on more drugs than Keith Richard.

4 days later my turds regained turgidity, and I was ok again.

It was either the drugs or the fact I had left Colombo.

Just to be safe I never ate kurd again. Maybe it wasn’t kurd that made me sick, but kurd sounds so much like turd I thought it was better if I played it safe.

August 23, 2010 Posted by Jrod | sri lanka | food, shit, vomit | 7 Comments