When you’re sliding in to First and your pants begin to burst, etc.

You know what sucks about being new to Africa? Diarrhea. It stalks me like so-much tasty prey. I spent five days in Kampala last week and never saw the outside of the hotel, except for a trip to the doctor’s office. I wish I could write that I never left my hotel room because I was getting to know a buff, mysterious stranger, but we all know that’s not the case.

I can’t describe to you the terror of eating uncooked fruits or vegetables (which, by the way, aren’t that abundant apart from mangoes and cabbage – and I’m not counting the million types of tubers around. Oh, there’re also tomatoes, but I hate tomatoes and no amount of hunger is going to change that). But you know what? Sometimes a girl just needs more than cassava and greasy pork. I’m a bit of a princess that way.

In other gastrointestinal news, on Tuesday morning I woke up bright and early and felt completely fine. I went to work, opened up my computer, began checking my email, and then promptly vomited for no apparent reason. This is my life. I never know which end is going to explode.

I look forward to having my immune system kick-in. Any day now, immunity!