SA Footy

Locations and the food that caused it.
Photos if necessary.

Just to clarify why this thread exists:

Quichey wrote:Boy, do I have some liquid-poo-through-the-eye-of-a-needle stories from Africa, but that is a whole other thread...

I'll write a decent yarn tonight

LMFAO!

This promises to be one for the ages. Can we make it a sticky?

ohhh yeah. I can add a few to this thread as well......

I've got one from a truck stop in Georgia... I'll write it later, got dinner on the stove.

When travelling I refuse to be constantly vigilant. Constantly careful. It’s no fun. Or perhaps I’m just too nice for my own good. It’s okay, healthy even (most of the time), to drop your guard and let the surroundings in. Just be warned that you’re bound to get it wrong once and you will get an arse-kicking.

Essaouira - the bastion of hippy spirits and day-tripping baby-boomers bussing in from Marrakesh. Home to a stretching beach, a cruisy medina, fresh seafood, and more pot and opium than you can poke a hash pipe at. And a rooftop bar. A bar! Beer! Oh beer, how I’ve missed you!

That night my partner and I had arranged to meet ‘Exciting Susan’ – a piss funny Irish girl we bumped into at the bus station – at the rooftop bar. We were all crying out for alcohol in our bloodstream. Who would have thought two Aussies and an Irishwoman would be so desperate for a drink?

I would forego dinner. That night I wanted to spend my daily budget on the African staple brand of booze– Flag Beer. Luckily, the kind folk at the rooftop bar would kindly keep us supplied with fresh olives to tuck into as we drank and wove conversation that would always come back to a traveller’s tale of some sort.

Eventually the girls had enough of the petrol-like wine (N.B. Don’t drink wine that has the word Sahara on the label) and I was sufficiently light-headed and penniless to call it a night. It wasn’t a long walk back to the hotel, but it was long enough to pass by a stall selling nutella crepes to which we could not say no.

While watching the creamy batter get spread thinly across the pan I felt a bump on the back of my heel. I turned to see that a Moroccan fella in a wheelchair had bumped into me. He gave a toothless grin and stuck out a hand for me to shake. In return I gave a toothy smile and shook his hand. He wheeled off down the medina. Our crepes were ready and we tucked into them as though they were a late-night yiros.

I had only been in bed an hour when I suddenly heard my stomach groan like a harpooned whale. My eyes widened. Then, as though it had been a rubik’s cube world champion in a past life, my stomach quickly bundled up it’s solid contents into a neat ball and shot it into my intestines. I had never felt such a visceral explosion before.

My helpless curl into the foetal position did not last long as I leapt from the bed, ripped my jocks from my buttocks while mid-air and bounded for the toilet. Do you remember those cartoons where a car runs into a fire hydrant and water shoots into the sky? Well, imagine it upside-down.

There was a single point of convenience during that predicament. The wash basin was handily located directly in front of the toilet and so I did not have to move far to expel the olive-laced liquid from the other end. I popped so many anti-biotics that night that I had a metallic taste in my mouth for days thereafter.

Yep, I let my guard down and copped an arse-kicking for it. I should have just been a cold bastard and ignored the bloke in the wheelchair whose hands would pick up every nasty parasite that his wheels would trek through. Too nice for my own good.

Hahaha classic!!

To be fair to the old codger, your body can take up to 48 hours to react adversely to whatever you take in, but yeah, he wouldn't have been the cleanest trooper you'll meet.

My missus got horribly sick in Morocco. She thinks it was a tagine we shared while visiting the Todra gorge. I felt a bit dodgy in the guts, but to prevent a story more suited to this thread, I bought a bottle of vodka and finished it, together with a few Flags. The following day, we had to stop the bus 3 times for the missus to chunder and RBO, plus she stopped at a couple of local chemists (if you could call them that) to load up large on Iodine and various other 'cloggers'. I was chipper and had little more than a mildly shaky guts, which I'd be lying if I attributed to anything other than some shocking Moroccan vodka!

Unbelievable piece of writing Quichey! Sensational! I haven't stopped smiling yet.
Gotta get to DA's little spill* now.

This thread reminds me of 'the steakhouse incident'. Enjoy.

http://www.ihos.com/steakhouse.html

I have been extremely lucky on my travels that no such incident has occurred. Although my travels have generally been in Europe not the more 'exotic' locations where these things tend to happen. Although I remember having a conversation with a group of fellow backpackers in Turkey some time ago. All of us had been in Turkey for a number of weeks and the conversation turned to bowel movements. One bloke asked us all if we were on 'liquids or solids'. Out of about 7 or 8 of us I was the only one still on 'solids'. Can't say I enjoyed the conversation as we were sitting at a restaurant waiting for our food!

Quichey wrote:When travelling I refuse to be constantly vigilant. Constantly careful. It’s no fun. Or perhaps I’m just too nice for my own good. It’s okay, healthy even (most of the time), to drop your guard and let the surroundings in. Just be warned that you’re bound to get it wrong once and you will get an arse-kicking.

Essaouira - the bastion of hippy spirits and day-tripping baby-boomers bussing in from Marrakesh. Home to a stretching beach, a cruisy medina, fresh seafood, and more pot and opium than you can poke a hash pipe at. And a rooftop bar. A bar! Beer! Oh beer, how I’ve missed you!

That night my partner and I had arranged to meet ‘Exciting Susan’ – a piss funny Irish girl we bumped into at the bus station – at the rooftop bar. We were all crying out for alcohol in our bloodstream. Who would have thought two Aussies and an Irishwoman would be so desperate for a drink?

I would forego dinner. That night I wanted to spend my daily budget on the African staple brand of booze– Flag Beer. Luckily, the kind folk at the rooftop bar would kindly keep us supplied with fresh olives to tuck into as we drank and wove conversation that would always come back to a traveller’s tale of some sort.

Eventually the girls had enough of the petrol-like wine (N.B. Don’t drink wine that has the word Sahara on the label) and I was sufficiently light-headed and penniless to call it a night. It wasn’t a long walk back to the hotel, but it was long enough to pass by a stall selling nutella crepes to which we could not say no.

While watching the creamy batter get spread thinly across the pan I felt a bump on the back of my heel. I turned to see that a Moroccan fella in a wheelchair had bumped into me. He gave a toothless grin and stuck out a hand for me to shake. In return I gave a toothy smile and shook his hand. He wheeled off down the medina. Our crepes were ready and we tucked into them as though they were a late-night yiros.

I had only been in bed an hour when I suddenly heard my stomach groan like a harpooned whale. My eyes widened. Then, as though it had been a rubik’s cube world champion in a past life, my stomach quickly bundled up it’s solid contents into a neat ball and shot it into my intestines. I had never felt such a visceral explosion before.

My helpless curl into the foetal position did not last long as I leapt from the bed, ripped my jocks from my buttocks while mid-air and bounded for the toilet. Do you remember those cartoons where a car runs into a fire hydrant and water shoots into the sky? Well, imagine it upside-down.

There was a single point of convenience during that predicament. The wash basin was handily located directly in front of the toilet and so I did not have to move far to expel the olive-laced liquid from the other end. I popped so many anti-biotics that night that I had a metallic taste in my mouth for days thereafter.

Yep, I let my guard down and copped an arse-kicking for it. I should have just been a cold bastard and ignored the bloke in the wheelchair whose hands would pick up every nasty parasite that his wheels would trek through. Too nice for my own good.

hmmm, are you sure it wasnt the Flag Special beer, I drank plenty of that while I was over there and had plenty of mornings on the throne crapping through the eye of a needle

godoubleblues wrote:hmmm, are you sure it wasnt the Flag Special beer, I drank plenty of that while I was over there and had plenty of mornings on the throne crapping through the eye of a needle

Flag Beer never gave me any trouble after subsequent sessions.

I'm fairly certain I got giardia or amoebic dysentary, because I wasn't 100% for a couple of weeks and it flared up again, after which I nuked my stomach for three days with the strongest pills I had.

lol sensational thread...

my only crook guts story was one of simpathy i reckon. i have always had something of an iron stomach. funnily enough it was the night that i had proposed.

we had just checked into the hotel in Mombassa on the coast of Kenya. after an 8 hour bus ride i was in need of a few drinks. so i went for a bit of a walk to the bar and asked for a few drinks and to bring some of the native flowers to do the deed (i had actually wanted him to bring it in while we were at dinner).

anyway he walks in with the flowers straight away which made me think i need to do it now or she'll think what are the flowers for. anyways i asked her, and she said yes...

we went out to celebrate that night. we shared a seafood platter (tasted sensational!). it was our first chance to have some champagne too as it was quite expensive in Nairobi. anyway we come back to our room, and about 2am it was very much like quichey's accounts for my fiance'. poor darling. we ended up going to the chemist to stock up on meds and spent the day after getting engaged in bed with my fiance' in the foetal position and me next to her...

You can only laugh! Certainly makes for a memorable proposal


You weren't drinking Flag by any chance

nope - Tusker!

very nice beer