I puke in your shoes.

The night before we leave for Bhutan I awake with a slow stomach grind and a guaranteed puke session—fantastic. Thoughts run through my head as to whether or not I will be able to make the three-week trip out of the country—shhhiiitttt….

I stumble into the bathroom to see what will happen. I realize it’s going to come out. My only problem is that I’m afraid I might be spilling chopped fluid chunks out of both ends so I rush back to my room to grab some toilet paper while silently reciting the serenity prayer to myself. I can’t find any paper but realize I’m fucked regardless, too late. I’m going to puke—now. I jolt back to the bathroom, as my thoughts speed up and all I can do is open the door and take one step—stomach explosion—I puke all over the bathroom floor and a decent amount lands in the mudroom, a good deal of which goes right into my nine year old homestay sister’s sandals.

Its two in the morning and after I finish squeezing the remaining momos out of my guts with spastic throat bursts I pray to god that the water is running since Kathmandu is the epitome of inconvenience. It works—thank His Holiness Guru Rinpoche.

The good thing about South Asian bathrooms is the floor is always wet and the toilet is just a hole in the ground, so after six, seven buckets of water I manage to clean the place up…I wake my family up but I’m feeling better already so I tell them no worries.

However, I can’t just throw water all over the mud room since there is no drain there and I don’t have any paper towels or anything since this is Asia, so I just take off the socks I’ve been wearing for ten days straight and use those to wipe the remaining vomit slop and food chunks up. I light a couple matches to cover up the smell and wring out a few of my dreadlocks that absorbed some of the projectile vomit and I’m all set. I toss my socks in a plastic bag and head to bed.

I wake up and realize I didn’t clean my head totally up and notice there are a few moist vomit spots in between my dreads that smell like the inside of my stomach…I wipe it with my sweatshirt sleeve and head back to sleep since I have to wake up in three hours and I don’t feel like moving…

The next morning my homestay Dad asks me if I was drinking chung (Tibetan beer) before I came home…No, I think I just ate a tainted momo or something…

Our plane takes off for the Kingdom of Bhutan and as we fly past the Himalayas, I catch an up close glimpse of Mount Everest and some other peaks. The range just goes on forever, it never seems to end. God lives in those mountains or at least the Yeti does and that’s just as good in my opinion.