The day before yesterday, the inevitable happened and Simon and Myself succumbed to food poisoning. We’ve adopted a laissez faire approach to what we eat, trying not to be too uptight and ignoring the; cooked, boiled, peeled or packaged rule, figuring that if the locals can manage it then so should we. We also hoped that as we left the urban cleanliness of Buenos Aires and gradually made our way to more remote areas and then to Bolivia we’d have the stomach fuana of a Manilla street dog and be able to eat anything.
Unfortunately our iron stomachs weren’t unsinkable and by mid morning it was clear that we were sinking fast. So we made for a port to weather the alimentary storm to come. I’ll spare you the details, as they aren’t pretty, suffice to say that Jackson Pollock’s name, and the word pojectile were used to describe the night’s passings.
Luckily Marina managed to escape, and this helped us to figure out who the culprit was. As Marina didn’t have any ice in her drink at the truckstop that we ate at after our frustrating detour, see below, we reckon that it was responsible. Hopefully, touch wood, we should be inoculated for South America now and it’ll be full steam ahead till Columbia.
Now that our the seas have settled somewhat we’ll be on the road again, heading towards Salta, again. Its 550km so it would be nice to be there early next week, but no predictions this time ; )
Tonight, we’re off to the circus and no, we won’t be taking ice in our drinks.