(Home)sick in a Foreign Land with Carritos

I'm not homesick - save a couple of things like Sunday (American) football with the family, and a very cool dog named Junior. But not the point of this entry - sickness is though. In all fairness, being away from home is not ideal all the time (of course right?).

Let's take Saturday night (in the area below, but at night) - I was walking to that friend's house in the center of town and I had to do it. I saw it standing there, beckoning me to come over and say hello, to inquire a bit. They are carritos - trucks stopped on a street that are ready made restaurants. I had just finished a 10K race (OK, and had just eaten a hot dog in the Plaza de Independencia but was famished) and I deserved something BIG.

I got it - the carrito served a hamburger loaded with mounds of vegetables and sauces and meat. What a treat (rhyme honestly not intended). Long story getting longer than necessary. At the party I started to feel a bit strange...so I left early.

At 7:30AM on Sunday morning my brutally hellish sick day would commence. I stayed inside all day, close to the bathroom. I hated carritos at this point. By 2PM I was in bed, under the covers, hoping the pain would stop (in between saying hello to the bathroom). Then at 3PM began the Murga drums and practice. Those powerful, brilliant, absolutely annoyingly lame, overexaggerated, and (at the time) out of sync beats lasted for the next six hours outside of my place. Don't believe me? This is today's example from my place. Horrible sickness. Horrible experience. Sunday here in Montevideo was by far the worst moment(s) I have experienced.

Just wanted to share that it isn't all rosey and peachy in carrito-land...not all the time anyways. But this is what makes trips the stories they are - when crisis of certain degrees present themselves.