Eggy Burps, Bubbley Ears and Jet-Stream ejections

I'm back! After two weeks at a course titled "Gandhi and Globalization" I'm back in Delhi and trying to scramble to knit together a coherent life in this very chaotic city.

So i feel somewhat awkward about making this my second entry but i have a couple of inspirations a.k.a. malfunctioning frontal lobe that entertains bad ideas not even remotely worth pursuing as tappable. I am writing about this A. because it was a desolate and solitary sojourn into the unknown and i must process communally :) B. someone once said a writer's task is to find the universal in the most mundane, therefore if i can find some universal truth other than the fact that getting sick sucks i will feel pretty good about myself C. i fortunately, but really most unfortunately, have at least 8 months till i see most of you so by the time you see me this entry will be long lost in the cracks of cyberspace where the cockroach reigns supreme D. i've thought about this enough to make me feel like execution is the only remaining option. Plus i've made a journal entry and trying to emulate Gandhi, i would like to live such an honest life where i am proud to share everything in my life, even those that some would share only to a journal, because my life is my example and what i want all of us to be. Plus i already made a jounal entry in my lovely pink journal that nicole gave me and so to desecrate that holy institution and leave the blogsphere unsullied would be sacreligious in a eating Mcdonalds in India kind of way, and i nor do you want me to become such a creature that so the only alternative that remains is to invite you to hitch a ride with me to the most hidden exciting crevices of the toilet stall.

Mid letter PS. Sometimes i feel like stupid endeavors are better done without disclaimers becuase rationalizing spontaneous stupidity really just surrenders the best excuse ever, which is "i did it cause i felt like doing it." hmm...

Eggy Burps, Bubbly Ears and Jetstreams of semi-processed food that initially seemed like a superb idea to stuff into my mouth, my time in india is off to a great start! So just as one has to travel through customs to get into a country, i have passed the second inevitable hallmark gateway of digestive-dissonance. In retrospect, having passed the most turbulent of times, I feel all i am left with is 4 pounds less body weight and the gift of being able to say "it had to happen at some point" and, and, and a, er, i guess that's really it. There really is no valuable insights to be had at 5 AM on a freezing toilet seat except an appreciation for the functioning body, which is sort of the bare minimum of what i expect for it as long as it serves as my carnal vessel, and given that i have not been equipped with Carl Lewis or Aretha Franklin type skills, i will unremorsely take advantage and take for granted (no matter how shameful this seems my spiritual development has not yet reached a stage of unconditional love and appreciation of my body) of the blessings i have been given.

Some journies reveal people's inner strength to overcome the impossible, others show the immeasurable wealth we all have and share inside, mine is neither adventurous, heroic, touching or epic, well maybe sort of epic in that at the time i kind indentified with Frodo in that only Frodo and I can understand kind of way, but basically the only adjective it merrited was frequent.

Day 1, T minus 7 hours (I'm using this format so time and experience can be conflated for your convenience)
I would have liked to start where the actual volcanic substance was consumed but as the suspect is unidentifiable at this point in time as every food in unfamiliar territories appear to have the potential to be a triumphant success or a disastrous failure, i begin my story somewhat arbitrarily. Pre-Bed, the coast is beautifully clear with stars glimmering above, and the moon shining so gently on my slightly dust covered skin. Stomach feels pressingly full but not quite i should be concerned level, thus all signals indicate normality. Ian proceeds to sleep, expecting another night of joyous night of silence and peace.

Day 2. 5 AM. The moment of truth where one must face the consequences of one's decisions. Subject, i.e. me, has been owned by what he presumptuously thought could be swallowed without harm. Feelings of queasiness, perception of moisture down under, subject immediately recognizes the gravity of situation and curses the heavens for the bestowal of such an unfortunate fate. After coercing the body to shove aside the blankets of slumber, he trudges to the stall where one usually leaves with a feeling of refreshment and rejuvanation, but now a max security prison where recividism is so high he knows he can escape for a bit but will return every so often because our parole system sucks and california just made it worse with Prop 9. Thanks you all.

From here time ceases to exist as every second in the sinisterly lit stall lasts for an eternity and every motion is repeated repeatedly. What really made process exponentially eternal, though, was the accompaniment of the eggy burps. oh yeah, not to leave out the bubbley ear which was a dagger in the heart. When i started feeling bubbles in my ear, because i properly couldn't adjust to the air pressure, my only thought was "ear you have nothing to do with this, stay out. You get enough action so stay out of this one. You nosey punk." But the eggy burps, i will most remember the eggy burps, in fact i remember it like it was only yesterday. i think they're basically very acidic belches but i'm not really sure. it just tastes really really bad and smells terrible in the mouth. The worst though is unlike flatulation which is pefectly designed to impact others, especially those behind, the burp is perfectly positioned to affect mainly you and only you. So everytime i had one of these i had to A. Quickly duck under my covers and B. widely flap my blanket in hopes that the smell would disperse, so the toxicity could be suffered equally between me and my room mate. Interestingly i only have gotten these in Ecuador two times and never before nor after. at the time i thought i had narrowed the culprit down to one fruit so when i first tasted this smell i thought i would never have to literally face again, i felt a sense of betrayal that there is another assasin out in the vegetble/fruit kingdom trying to get me. As i shared with my dad i had a Cesarian moment where i uttered or perhaps muttered the words "Et tu Brutas?" because i thought it was only one rebelious fruit in the kingdom but in fact there were more that were out to get me. what treachery...

Ultimately it was only two days-ish so wasn't a big deal but it was pretty miserable. Through this simple entry i hope you have been able to commiserate with me and realize that this research grant isn't simply just about free money. It involves jumping, ducking and battling through putrid smells...

PS hopefully next entry will have more substance