Andrew freaking out
I convinced Andrew we needed to stay an extra day to recover. I was worried (and he was too, even though he probably won’t admit it) about him being on medication with unknown side-effects, especially before an 18+hour bus ride down to Vilanculos. We stayed. We taught Eben and Annelies how to play euchre (more like reminded Eben, as he knew how to play) and relaxed for one more day before dealing with another (hopefully the last) long, uncomfortable bus ride through Mozambique.
I get why Christian liked The Hairy Lemon so much. It’s this super chill island in the middle of the Nile, surrounded by prime kayaking opportunities. I’m assuming it’s kayaker heaven. But for me and Andrew, not being experienced kayakers… and on a tight budget, we probably didn’t love it as much as we would have if we came with our own kayak or more funds to have lessons or just to have someone take us out on the water.
It probably didn’t help that there was some epic kayak designer/manufacturer and his Red-Bull-sponsored-kayaking-son staying on the island when we were there. They were super nice. But. Dudes only talked about kayaking. all. the. time. I had to laugh when the Red-Bull-sponsored-son told me he “tries not to wear too much of the Red Bull gear at once…” He said this while wearing a Red Bull shirt, Red Bull sunglasses, while he worked on his laptop with a giant Red Bull Sticker on it, next to his Red Bull bag. I wondered what he considers “too much at once.”
Not being into the kayaking thing this time around, we lounged, and had a dip in the natural pool of water on the island. That is, until Andrew was convinced he had contracted Bilharzia through his butt.
In case you’re not familiar with this disease, it’s caused by parasitic worms and it’s common in tropical ponds, streams and irrigation canals harboring bilharzia-transmitting snails.
He was convinced something was wrong with his butt, and guess who had to investigate because he couldn’t see for himself?
Me.
I don’t know why butts and ailments of are so funny, but they are. (And having had surgery on my tailbone before college, I totally get it.) Regardless, I immediately turned into a child and started laughing at his paranoia, yet promptly told him to drop trou so I could investigate.
“I think your butt cheeks were just chafing on the boda boda (motorcycle) ride or something…” I said as we stood outside our dorm cabin investigating. He wasn’t convinced.
“Do you want me to take a picture?” I asked, knowing full well that would have made me feel better ten years ago when I had no idea what was going on on my backside. And so, I did what any awesome travel partner would do, I grabbed my phone, parted his cheeks, and took a picture for him to see.
“See, it’s totally not bilharzia… But, I think some anti-biotic cream would make you feel better…” I suggested. He agreed, and busted some out, turning to me yet again for assistance. After I demanded he supply a q-tip, I channeled my inner nurse and complied.
Traveling around the world; not for the feint of heart.
Aside from the bilharzia scare, laying around was pretty much the extent of our day.
