...

So far, the first 24 hours of my "adventure" has been... well let's say, less than ideal.

It consisted of having serious sinus problems on the first leg of my trip to London (my ears hurt when we descended because they couldn't re-pressurize properly without clear sinuses). Then, in London, after managing to get through my entire life with zero incidents involving gum, I sit in it within 2 hours of arriving. It's still on my jeans. On the second leg of the trip, I got a bloody nose on the plane and was sitting next to the most unpleasant old man. Getting up to go to the bathroom twice within a 10 hour flight sounds quite reasonable to me, but apparently not so reasonable to the old man. The third time I got up, it was to puke in the airplane bathroom. I have a healthy suspicion that the doxycycline was what caused it as I forgot to take it with food. Upon my return though, the old man reiterated his thoughts on my window seat.

"I wasn't getting up to pee again you know. I was ill."
"So you say."

I should've vomited all over him instead. I'm now in South Africa and exhausted. Logistically, it's been a bit of a nightmare as I'm trying to schedule a pickup by the non-profit I work for before I take off sightseeing. Having only use of public phones is hard because I have to hang around like a hoodlum, waiting for them to call back. What I really want to do right now is sleep, but I promised this girl I'd go around Pretoria with her at 1 pm. It's nearing 11 am, I haven't heard back from the non-profit yet for a scheduled pickup time, and I am still unshowered.

I did manage though, to brush my teeth after puking. And the stewardesses nicely made an announcement asking the passengers to donate their unused toothbrushes and toothpastes for the summer camps I'm working for.

The funny thing is, I was quite nervous before coming here. On the car ride to the airport, I came close to crying a few times. Largely because my dad was giving me all these warnings, and with my overactive imagination - I was imagining all the possible worst case scenarios - which of course, all end in death or maiming. I felt incredibly sad, not for myself, but for my parents. In the past year or so, I've come to realize how much they really love me and how much they've invested in me, emotionally and financially. It would be tragic for them to lose me. I felt all choked up on their behalf, because obviously - if I was dead, I wouldn't be able to feel anything, even sadness. Once I got to the airport and they left though, I started to feel a bit more stable again.

I feel like I have to take care of myself. Not just for my sake, but also for my parents.