Vire Naranoo

Before I came to India, I was warned:

“You WILL have stomach problems.”

I imagined myself, eating with families on straw mats. In the middle of nowhere. Where the cleanliness of food could never be accounted for. I imagined myself ordering food from street vendors, overcome by the food’s smell and throwing caution to the wind. I imagined lying in the bed, writhing with stomach pains. In a romantic way, of course. I imagined developing a tolerance for all those strange bacteria. “Yeah, I had trouble at first, but after some time, I just got used to the food and didn’t get sick anymore,” I imagined myself bragging.

Instead, I eat in a mess hall, where the food it always healthy and clean. There are no street vendors selling food in Kottayam. The food I eat is safe, safe, safe. For the most part, anyway.

Sure, I’ve had some ‘rhea. Sure, I’ve had some stomach cramping. But no vomiting. No hospital visits. No IV drips for re-hydration. At first, I thought I had to be doing something wrong to not be sick so often. I got puffed up, believing it was my rock-hard stomach that was getting me through. Oh yeah, I can handle anything! Then I realized that it wasn’t me. It was the food. The food I’m eating is fiiiiine.

So, why am I writing all of this, you might be asking? One - Because you may have the same kind of “romantic” visions of what I’m eating. The food I’m eating can’t be found in most places in the US, but it’s not unclean. And two - Because today, my stomach is upset. Not because of bacteria, or spicy foods, or any of that. It’s upset because I eat sooooo much! The food is safe and delicious, so why not? (Don’t say “Because you’ll get a stomach ache.”)

My health problems here have been random. But very few have to do with my stomach. And for that, I am thankful!

Some good news: The girls got a new teacher. SHE’S GREAT. She loves them and they love her. And she doesn’t carry a bamboo stick. Life is good.