Don´t trust the juice

I downed three glasses of fruit juice from a street vendor yesterday. I chose to ignore the fact that the "juice" was mostly just river water. I had been in the field for almost two weeks, and I was immune to such silly matters like brown water.

Or so I thought. You see where this is going.

A few hours later, I ate at a chicken restaurant in Iquitos. On the way out of the restaurant, I stepped into the bathroom and vomitted a sinkful of chicken and pink stuff. I recognized that color -- that fruit juice had betrayed me!

I tapped a waitress on the shoulder. "Excuse me, I´m sorry, but your sink is now filled with pink."

I write way too much about body fluids. I´ll try to spare you next time.