Today started off like the set-up of the most traumatizing porno ever. We had to be ready to leave by 8:30, and I was not feeling well. I thought perhaps I had drank too much red wine last night, and there was much self-admonishment as Lizzie went down to get breakfast (and to alert the front desk that we had no toilet paper) and I stumbled into the shower. Once I was out, I heard a knock on the door, and, figuring it was Lizzie, ran towel-wrapped to let her in. CUE THE CHEESY PORN MUSIC. Upon opening the door, I discovered that it was a handsome hotel clerk, holding two rolls of toilet paper. Neither of us say anything as I stick out an arm (the one not holding my towel in place) take said toilet paper, immediately turn, run into the bathroom and vomit violently. Sexy, no? Lizzie comes back, and at this point she's feeling okay, so I foolishly chalk my illness up to a hangover, and drag my sweaty self onto the bus to Sorrento. I don't remember the hour and a half ride (but I do remember that Gary wouldn't stop talking about food, which was making me feel worse). When we get to Sorrento, Lizzie and I sit in a cafe, me groaning the whole time, unable to even drink the gingerale I had ordered. We decided then to skip out on the optional excursion down the Amalfi coast as I felt so awful, and waited in that cafe until it was time to grab the bus back home two hours later.Fun Fact: If you feel like you are going to be sick on a bus, it is important to think ahead and bring the paper "for soiled lady products" bag with you.
The bus ride back to our hotel was a decidely horrific experience. The Amalfi coast road (which I will get to in a subsequent post) is windy and deadly with a precipitous drop on one side, and formiddable rock on the other. It's so curvy that drivers have to honk while going around corners so as not to ram into one another. I alternately felt feverish and freezing, and suddenly Lizzie started to look as bad as I felt, and I realized (duh) that I didn't have a hang over, we both had food poisoning. Yay. Gary of course yakked about food the whole ride, and then told this story about a person on his tour who hit his head, split it open, didn't realize it and crawled into bed subsequently bleeding for half the night (he was okay after 17 stitches) but I am already a squeamish mofo, and I thought I was going to die. The only thing Lizzie and I consumed in common was some water at a beautiful little restaurant in Ravello, which we now realize was probably tap water. There must've been some unfamiliar bacteria in it, and so, we have spent the past seven hours cycling between being passed out in bed, or crawling to the bathroom to dry heave. This is depressing, as it is beautiful out, and our room has its own patio. I really hope this bastard works its way out of our systems by tomorrow, because, as you know, it's my birthday, not my barfday, and I prefer not to spend it jockeying with my buddy for primo toilet position. I haven't eaten in nearly 12 hours, and there has not been even the slightest nod from my stomach that, perhaps some dry crackers would be okay. This is not encouraging. Time to dwell on our previous adventures.
P.S. The above picture shows the poisonous water. As Lizzie could probably tell you, that pizza may look delicious going down, but not so much coming up. Mine had anchovies on it. Yeah.
:( :( :(
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