August 09, 2015

Fes, Morocco

I was taken ill last night and was now suffering. I had some kind of traveler’s diarrhea that made me feel bloated and forced me to make frequent trips to the toilet to evacuate my watery feces (it was pretty gross). On top of it all, Fes was stifling hot and the room I was staying at was almost as bad as being outside in the sun; all I had was a fan to help cool my body, which had been stricken with a slight fever. I’m not sure how I got sick since I’m usually pretty careful with what I eat and drink and I certainly wasn’t using the tap water in this country; however, I suspect that it must have been my first meal in Fes, when I ate at that street restaurant with the four Spaniards; most likely, the water used to clean our drinking glasses and the vegetables on our plates was tainted (I remember seeing the water droplets on our freshly “cleaned” glasses and being weary, but went ahead and drank from it anyway when I saw the Spaniards paying no heed to it). Too bad the Spaniards weren’t still staying in the hostel; I would like to know whether or not they got sick as well.

Anyway, I relaxed inside the sauna of a room, laying in my bed, sweating it out for almost the entire day. Later on I took a cold shower to lower my body’s temperature and it felt great. I also munched on the almonds and dried apricots I had bought yesterday at the Carrefour to give me something to eat since I was too ill and exhausted to get up and go anywhere to eat, and because I didn’t trust the food in the medina anymore (no sense in introducing more bad bacteria to my gastrointestinal tract). I did leave the hostel at one point to buy some more water and drinks at a nearby market, but that was the extent of my travels outside of the hostel for today.

After midnight, I tried going to sleep, but – sigh – roughly every hour I had to visit the toilet and make loud nocturnes (although, admittedly, more evocative of a thunderstorm rather than the night). As I troubled to sleep, I noticed the Taiwanese girl was leaving the room every hour or so herself for about ten-minute periods, making me realize that she probably has the same traveler’s diarrhea as I do, but obviously she’s a bit more shy and discreet and wants to conduct her business in the privacy of the restroom on the first floor in the hostel. I’m not sure how much sound the bathroom door manages to block, but my guess would be near zero. Oh well, fuck it, I don’t care anymore.

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