Last week, Helene tweeted that she was stalking my Thailand posts as she was planning her adventures in Southeast Asia. When I saw it, I couldn’t help but reminisce about our amazing vacation. We truly had the very best time — I still dream about our day with the elephants!
In any case, it should be known that there was one particular story that never quite made it to the blog. You see, when you’re like me and traveling overseas to a different country with a whole slew of food allergies and stomach issues, you’re bound to run into some interesting situations.
One such interesting situation was during our stay in Koh Samui. Up to this point, we hadn’t ventured into the world of street food yet. It always looked delicious, but I couldn’t pull the trigger. We decided that this would be the day we would indulge in a little bit of street curry with rice. What would go wrong?
We ordered our food and devoured it. Green curry with sticky rice — SO GOOD! After our meal we decided to browse the local market. Sidetone: Thailand has so many gorgeous markets – I could spend days shopping! Anyway, we wove our way into the complex market setup, stopping every so often to look at the homemade wares and goodies. All of a sudden, I began sweating. Now, this wasn’t unusual at this point, as it was about 104 degrees outside (not kidding, we went in June), but this was a different kind of sweat. The one that starts at your knees and works itself up your body. My stomach churned as I started to panic looking for a bathroom, or even a way out of the market maze we found ourselves in. It seemed every path I turned down only led me toward more booths — not an exit or a restroom. The sweating continued and my stomach was audibly upset. Dane chased after me as I sped walked through people, trying not to knock anyone down. Eventually, my walking turned into full-blown plow mode as I tried, in vain, to make my way out of the market. It seemed all paths led to one thing — disaster for me.
You can imagine what happened next as the title to this post implies. I was in pain, embarrassed and disgusted all at once — a mortified to tell Dane. I think he felt bad for me as I was literally doubled over in pain and embarrassment. We eventually found a way out and back to our hotel. At the time, I didn’t think it was funny, but now I can look back on this situation and laugh my ass off.
The moral of the story is not to avoid street food — by all means, eat it, I continued to do so after this incident. The moral of the story is that no blogger’s life, vacation, wardrobe, etc. is ever as perfect as they make it out to be.