Warning: do not read this post immediately before or after eating. Those with sensitive digestion proceed with caution...
Ok, now we all know what happens to our digestive systems when we go travelling. For example, I'm sure you've all heard of Bali Belly, Delhi Belly, or similar such things. In Albania, the locals call it Hoxha's revenge.
Or the opposite can happen. Your digestion gets so upset that not even prunes, figs or dates can help.
Me? I don't normally suffer from either. Normally. I have the stomach of a horse, or a cow or something. Certainly one the size of one!
So I was quite surprised to realise that until we arrived in Ulcinj, Montenegro, the last recorded action in that department was in Split. Some four days earlier. Hmm. Feeling a bit of discomfort really. Fortunately a couple of prunes sorted that one out.
But again, since Ulcinj, no action. No 'movement at the station', as it were. And this is again four days or so - and no prunes in sight. So I was starting to worry, to say the least.
Then we had that lovely fish dinner by Lake Ohrid. I had a fillet of carp. Now I don't normally have problems with seafood, but then I don't normally eat seafood fillets the size of a small whale, so I really wasn't surprised to see that it did the trick. Relief washed over me like a flood. Literally, a flood.
The next morning, Agata left early for the bus to Skopje, armed with some imodium. She had had fish too the night before, and was a bit frightened (after her experiences in Egypt) that she might have a repeat 'revolution' (as she called it), so we sent her off equipped with imodium for the 3 hour bus ride.
We got up a couple of hours later and made our way into town. En route we stopped off at a little bakery for some breakfast. Throughout our travels through ex-Yugoslavia we have discovered one national dish which is the same no matter where you go, a pastry filled with meat or cheese called burek, or byrek, depending on where you are. Now you have to remember that in Macedonia, they use the Cyrillian alphabet, so the word burek appears like this: БУРЕК. I've only just learned how to read that, whereas Agnieszka, being fluent in Russian, has no problem with it. Anyway, back to the story.
At the bakery I discovered that I can read this word 'burek' so I ordered one, quite delighted that I've managed to work it out for myself. Agnieszka ordered one too. But this particular burek (we chose the one with meat because from past experience, the cheese one mings) was not quite ready, and they had to go out the back and cook up another one. Fortunately because it took so long they only charged us half price. We should have taken that as a warning.
In Albania and Macedonia the locals eat this burek with natural yoghurt, which they just drink alongside the burek, so we ordered one too, thinking we were being very clever and having a traditional meal. I must just now point out I have had burek before, I did know what I was getting, I just hadn't had it with yoghurt before. That might have been the trigger. Either that or the fact that it was absolutely drenched, I mean the thing was swimming, nay, it had DROWNED, DIED, GONE TO HEAVEN and been resurrected in oil.
About 20 minutes after the burek we were in an internet cafe. I had intended to do some blogging but before I could even begin to log on to blogger, excruciating pain struck. Oh boy, was it painful. It was all I could do to log off, approach the internet cafe clerk and, doubled over at this point in agony, squeak out 'where's the toilet please?' - and as I did so, I realised Agnieszka was doing the same. Fortunately I beat her to the loo, where Vesuvius erupted, and I have been paying for it ever since.
That was more than 24 hours ago. I haven't drunk the tap water here, haven't brushed my teeth in tap water, none of that sort of stuff - yet every time I eat something, even just a piece of toast, it sets me off.
Trust me, it ain't pleasant either. They're not renowned here for having wonderful loos. Some of the loos are those old crappy (literally) squat ones.
And tonight we're on a 9 hour train journey to Belgrade. Pass the imodium...
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