You’ll get ill in India. It’s how you cope with it. Drink plenty of water and make sure there’s a very nice bathroom nearby. Preferably with lots of marble and a bowl of coloured soaps.
If it was up to me, I’d much rather not poo, or even talk about it. In India it’s a fascinating thing. After all, the streets are full of people doing it, and I’m travelling with a straight man. Straight men like farting, and they love pooing even more.
The useful thing Rick taught me was tagging meals, to see how fast the bacteria were working. Cashew nuts seemed useful, even if my claim of half an hour was hotly disputed.
The only thing against us was the food. Two weeks ago, spicy Indian meal after spicy Indian meal seemed like bliss. Now it’s torture. Breakfast is the worst. Weakly, you plead for a little toast and coffee. They do the Indian nod, and bring you some toast. And then a bowl of curry. And a glass of yoghurt with chilli.