Maybe It Was The Tea Sandwiches?

• 7-hour midnight assault-on-the-summit climb in 40-mph winds? Survived it.
• Cow face soup? Ate it.
• 9-hour bus ride to Dar es Salaam in the world's smallest, stinkiest bus? No sweat.
• Traditional goat bar-b-q after 15 years of vegetarianism? Easy peasy.
  
• Octopus-on-a-stick, bought from a street vendor in a dark alley in the middle of the night and supplemented with a hot drink of unknown origins? Done and done.

But sometime during the week, when I have been eating daily at country clubs, hospital cafeterias, and the best restaurants in Nairobi, I managed to eat something that didn't agree with me. Or, as the doctor I saw today said: "Something my body didn't recognize as food and therefore rejected."

After 48 hours of some of the worst illness I have ever experienced (all I can say is that my poor roommates deserve some kind of survival badge), I'm okay. And, since I have no idea what it was that laid me low, I am happy to say that I can keep going in my usual manner of trying to turn my stomach inside-out. Hooray for Ciprofloxin!