Traveling can be a great, beautiful and wonderful eye opening experience. But do people ever talk about the not so glamorous side of traveling?
You know- when your stuck in traffic trying to get crosstown in London to make your flight to Spain? Or when your staying in an air bnb in Amsterdam and can’t figure out for the life of you how to use the washer and end up fucking up all your underwear? Or accidentally drinking the water in Morocco and having to go to a pharmacy in Romania just to get meds so you’ll stop shitting your pants?
Nope. Not a peep of this. Well all of these these instances are true and have all happened to me so let’s get into it.
I hope I took the right doses because Google translate did not help with this one
I’ve been to Morocco twice. First time I was a cautious Cathy. Didn’t drink the water, didn’t use ice cubes in my drinks and didn’t even brush my teeth without a bottle nearby. Luckily I escaped unscathed. The second time I was a little more ballsy and had been already traveling for about 2 weeks at that point. I brushed my teeth with the water, ordered ice in every drink and even let a little shower water get in my mouth after a particularly rough hike and I felt fine! Until I didn’t. Towards the end of my Morocco trip I started to feel a little funny, which I merely chalked up to travelers stomach (yes, it’s a real thing). When I got to Sevilla a few days later I knew something was definitely wrong so I stocked up on some trusty digestive cookies (a real Spanish staple) and kept it moving. However it wasn’t until a week later when I found myself in Romania driving back from Draculas castle that I knew something was wrong.
Clearly too excited to notice the rumbling going on beneath the surface.
As we were rounding a corner entering a small town I thought to myself “this is it. This is the moment when your life will change forever because you’re literally about to poop in your pants”. My life flashed before my eyes and I actually almost cried. Real question. Have you ever almost shit your pants? Like clenching your butt cheeks, praying, vision going blurry shit your pants. It’s like you can see the future and it’s not bright, you know from that moment on your life will forever be divivded into two parts like BC and AC. BS and AS – before shitting and after shitting. Just imagine for a second what your life you would be like if you actually pooped your pants at the age of 27 and were not drunk or had a serious illness. Anyways, In the middle of her story I blurted out UHIHAVETOFINDABATHROOMLIKENOW.
Luckily my travel companion knew me well enough to know that it was an emergency, we found a somewhat abadoned restaurant, waddled our way inside and the rest is history. When we got back to Bucarest we made a beeline to the nearest pharmacy. Lucky for me Europes pharmacies are very different from Americas. In these pharmacies you walk in, tell the pharmacist what’s wrong with you and bam. You got your meds. No questions, no prescription, no nothing. So to the pharmacist in old town Romania. Thank you for saving my intensities, my dignity and my wallet. Although I have no idea what these boxes say because I speak approximately 0 words of Romanian, as far as I’m concerned these are little miracles in a box and cost a whopping $4.
So ladies an gentlemen the lesson here is to never drink the water in Morocco, always have a pepto bismal handy when traveling and never be ashamed about trying to explain to a random Romanian stranger that you need meds to stop you from violently pooping your pants. It happens to the best of us.
The only thing I could eat in Bucarest