The Obligatory Indian Travel Essay about an Obvious Topic
There are two schools of thought about how to handle the notorious “Delhi Belly”. One approach is to be as cautious as possible. Eat only in restaurants prepared to cater to Westerners; avoid the roadside dhabas, with their anonymous simmering pots of chana dal and metal cups of water; never eat raw fruits or vegetables; drink beverages only if they have been boiled, bottled, or both; and whenever possible use a straw to drink from beverage containers, so your lips don’t touch the outside….
[Editrix’ note: Okay, so I know you’re all wondering why I haven’t posted in a couple weeks. My last post kinda left things hanging as to what actually happened after I set foot in India in search of my two sickly, slightly injured, wives. So instead of this bizarre blog entry about one of foreign travel’s most common side effects, imagine instead a tearful yet joyous reunion, followed by much intense medically oriented discussion, occurring in New Delhi. Pre-monsoon New Delhi is definitely a “kids, don’t try this at home” travel experience. Temperatures routinely go to the mid-40’s Centigrade (about 114 F), while golden, pollution-infested dust storms engulf the city at regular intervals. For anyone suffering from the dreaded “Delhi belly,” it is all too possible to dehydrate despite taking in almost a gallon of water a day. After some judicious application of Benedryl (about which, more below) and more antibiotics than I want to think about, we performed a prompt evacuation (so to speak) to Rewalsar in Himachal Pradesh, 12 hours north and 20 degrees C cooler. So what with one thing and another I lost, literally, a good 2 or 3 entire days to the “Belly”, plus other time spent eating cautiously and keeping some awareness on bathroom proximity. But I digress. Back to our scheduled blog entry.]
A second approach is to consider the prospect of “Delhi Belly” inevitable. Eat what you like, wherever you like, and just pack along the right medications for dealing with the results. Do this as soon as possible after arrival, while staying in a modern hotel with a good “Western” style bathroom and toilet. The experience should readjust your internal flora and fauna, so that afterwards, your risks in eating the local food are no different from what you run at home–namely, spoiled or badly prepared stuff. And the best way to avoid those? Keep your eyes open for busy restaurants and food stalls, with a lot of local customers. The high food turnover ensures you that food is likely to be fresh, while a crowd usually indicates that whatever’s on the menu is likely to be tasty. In many areas of India you’re likely to be limited to stuff cooked with mutton, or vegetarian fare. Cows are holy beings allowed to wander about freely and eat as much garbage as they like (now there’s a lifestyle choice). Tibetans won’t eat fish or shellfish. No one eats pork. The Asian bird flu epidemic has taken chicken out of a lot of restaurant kitchens. Eating the local yogurt or drinking lassis ( a kind of yogurt milkshake) will help repopulate your insides with “friendly” flora a little faster.
So. Since my itinerary here in India is extremely open-ended, I went for approach number two. How bad could it be? After all, I’d already done a round or so of turista in Central Mexico, and it hadn’t been that bad.
Boy, was I wrong. One fine evening my system began to enthusiastically eject anything and everything–even water–from both ends. Joy’s absolutely right in her blog entry about this subject. While undergoing the nonstop puking and diarrhea that are the classic Delhi Belly symptoms, you absolutely hate the idea of having a digestive tract, and begin to wonder if evolving such a thing was a good idea in the first place. There’s plenty of time to meditate on this subject between these symptoms and the stomach cramps that feel like some beast from the Hell Realms has wandered in to stick 10 or 12 claws deep into your innards, and twist them into a macrame project. The worst part is that the symptoms don’t stop once you’re empty, making it impossible to take in or keep down any medications that might help.
Yep, I can hear those next two questions. Let’s take them in order, shall we.
What medications might help? There is a Traditional Chinese medication labelled “Culing Pills” and they are actually “Curing Pills” for stomach ailments. One box contains ten vials full of little red pills. Down a vial every few hours to ease diarrhea symptoms. Benedryl is another cheap but good wonder drug that can ease the nausea enough for stuff to stay down. Imodium is supposed to be a good over-the-counter remedy, but I haven’t had to use it so far. Compazine is a high-powered anti-nausea drug that comes in suppository form. Er. Right. Which brings us to the next question:
How do you take these things to stop puking if you’re busy compulsively puking? Well…the Benadryl or Compazine go in the other, non-puking, end first. (Note to self: pack lube in first aid kit….) Then wait for a few minutes for them to take effect. After half an hour to an hour or so, cautiously begin to insert other medications orally.
Post-”Belly” life should be of the slow and steady variety. Eat and drink small amounts at a time–no gulping, or you’ll regret it. Stick to the blander stuff, preferably cooked vegetables and plain rice or bread instead of meat, and highly seasoned things. After a while, you’ll be able to add in the more fiery tasty goodies, bit by bit.
“Ring of Fire”? That’s another blog entry….
