Totally sick holidays, part 1

There’s this holiday jinx I’m hoping to beat. It involves me getting violently ill every time I step off a plane. My speciality is colds and flus in exotic locales. I’ve snuffled my way through sojourns in Koh Samui, Singapore, South Carolina, Fiji … Next week we’re going to Spain, and I’m a bit scared. (Erm, yes, I know I’ve done a fair bit of moaning about penury lately, but the trip was booked and paid for a year ago, when I was fully employed and unaware I would be a housewife.) I’m scared because I really don’t want to be sick in Spain. (Lots of knocking on wood as I type) The holiday sickness jinx began many moons ago when I started dating Husband. In those first giddy weeks of lurve, we decided to travel to Thailand together. Guess what happened? Nothing less fun than slumping beachside sipping tom yum soup and nursing the flu while your new boyfriend goes scuba diving without you. Actually, there is – getting Bali belly while sharing a small hotel room with same boyfriend of six weeks. So romantic. Somehow the relationship survived. I got sick on various other getaways. When I wasn’t sick, I was making misguided destination choices, such as booking us into the “Wheels Resort”, a hotel designed for less-able travellers. Nice, big bathrooms though. And a lovely, convenient ramp into the swimming pool. Finally, after 10 years of blighted holidays, we got married. Let’s not talk about the honeymoon. Three years later, I got pregnant with Sprog 1. Under the false impression that morning sickness only lasted 12 weeks, I booked two round-the-world-last-hurrah tickets for Husband and I on week 13. Husband found my moaning and retching a real downer on the road trip from LA to Las Vegas. It wasn’t much fun in New York either. Things went further downhill when I caught the flu and was confined to bed in Richmond, England. As husband hunched in the bathroom, trying to scrub blood-orange-juice vomit out of the hotel’s white Egyptian cotton doona, I lay pathetically on the sheets channelling Virginia Woolf: “If it’s a choice between death and Richmond, I choose death!” Husband finally admitted defeat and used all his frequent flyer points to upgrade me to business class for an early journey home. There weren’t enough points for him to join me, but I rallied enough to visit him in economy at regular intervals with giddy updates: “They just grilled chicken satay sticks for us!”, “The ice-cream is so delicious up there!” Still, the trip doesn’t win the award for Worst. Holiday. Ever. That belongs to Folly Beach (the name should have been a dead giveaway). But I think 474 words are enough for one day …

TONIGHT’S MENU: Chicken tikka masala, with roti. The kids will eat anything wrapped in roti. Palm oil must be addictive.

One thought on “Totally sick holidays, part 1

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  1. Just love it. Cant wait to hear about your holiday, will be waiting in anticipation as I do for your blog everyday xxx

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