Maddy and I went to an Italian restaurant last night. It reminded me how irritating Italians can be on the subject of food. They seem to think that they're God's gift to the human palate. Well no! You're not! Italian food is boring! The first mouthful may be the most delicious thing you've ever tasted in your life, but then every other mouthful is exactly the same. I want some variety here people! And if you try to explain this to them they smile at you in this condescending way and say "But darling, you've never had proper Italian food." That's right, I've never been anywhere near Italy. No wait. I have. Twice. And you know what? I can't even remember the food! That's how good it was. (Actually I do remember the pizza that was like a biscuit with some cheese on top. Great!) And the other thing they say to you is "But darling, you're English, you wouldn't know good food if it bit you on the tongue." That's right, you lived in Britain for twenty years and you never even found an Italian or Indian that you liked? "But darling, that's not British cooking." Right, every single dinner you ate in that twenty years was cooked by a foreign chef. And those aren't national dishes you're eating, those are British variations on a theme. My mum cooks great lasagna and spaghetti bolognese (fuck off Adam:), but the only thing that's even vaguely Italian is the pasta, and where was that produced? Italy?So the good news is that after eating the whole bread basket and my so-so cannelloni I have decided that I have finally got my hunger back after a bit of a nasty illness. My previous worse ever illness was in Laos, when I awoke at 3am with a sudden onset of Explosive Bowel Syndrome and fell unconscious against the wash bowl (see Mum, I've learnt that one!) on my first visit to the loo. But it got better after that, and only lasted about 12 hours. Statistically this last bout was 2-4 times worse. By Thursday night I was visiting the toilet frequently and after exiting the toilet to wash my hands on one such venture I suddenly felt very weak and giddy and awoke to find myself unconscious on the floor of the shower room. I then had to sit down half way up the short flight of stairs and then collapsed again once in our room, and had to crawl into bed. Maddy asked me why I didn't wake her, I'd thought about asking her to pass the bin in case I was sick, but what else could she have done.
So today it was Maddy's turn, she started feeling a bit bad after her spaghetti bolognese (yes Adam, with meat). I only realised how bad she looked today after I'd marched her to the bus stop and we were already on our bus to Taxco. I said that we could stay in Cuernavaca, but stoic as ever she said she'd see how she felt after she'd eaten. She ate, and ate a little more at my prodding, about half a slice of toast in all, and then was sick all over her feet once we left the restaurant. we could make out little pieces of spaghetti. I knew it, not just boring but poisoned too! Maybe they heard me. Anyway, we came right back to Cuernavaca.
