You will have a tattoo that
resembles an overfed pigeon instead of a dove as a result of the grotesque swelling.
You will lose your
suitcase in transition and have to rely on the kindness of your friends to
supply you with clothing for three days, feeling grateful that the climate is
hot enough for shorts so you don’t have to wear trousers that are six inches
too short for your lanky limbs.
You will take turns on
cockroach watch in the small hours of the morning, all the while wondering if
what you’ve heard is true and they can in fact fly.
You will find a lizard
in your bed.
You will obsess over
whether the mosquito bite on your bottom has given you malaria.
You will feel like the
air is suffocating you between twelve and three and take refuge in any shade
you can find.
You will be soaking wet
for ten days because of intense heat and experience the mortifying sensation of
sweat pouring down the backs of your legs and dripping into a puddle of your own
creation.
You will stick to every
smooth surface you sit on and have to peel yourself off like an old plaster.
You will wash for ten
days in freezing cold water with a bucket and scoop and become adamant that it
is the best treat in the world.
You will resemble a
tomato.
You will eat rice for
breakfast, lunch and tea, occasionally with a fish head to accompany.
You will endure the
greatest bout of constipation.
You will be asked by a Filipino
called Peter whether or not you are able to go ‘totally’.
You will be appalled
when you discover that he was enquiring after your bowel movements.
You will trudge through
sewage in flip-flops in the shade of a mountain made of rubbish.
You will be the only
white face for miles and miles.
You will be stared at
and touched.
You will have to bin
half of your clothes when preparing to leave because they are stained with sun
tan lotion and sand.
You will want to jump
on the first flight back as soon as you get home.
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