The food isn’t bad, it’s just…Bad

I just vomited a little in my mouth. Just a little, enough to recall that I’d tossed raw spinach onto my plate during dinner. For most of the day I thought it was Thanksgiving, which I suppose is a true testament to my timelessness here. After speaking to a few people and getting final confirmation from my mother (who, should one ever become necessary, would make an amazing human calendar), I concluded that no, Thanksgiving does not fall on the third Thursday of the month as someone had falsely informed me, and that at least would explain the bland meals tonight.

But anyway, back to the reason I was tasting bile. Dinner consisted of corned beef and macaroni and cheese, but it isn’t the food selection which has anything to really do with why it wasn’t all that pleasing. I even added a salad consisting of the aforementioned spinach and some colored bell peppers for sweetness (Delicious!) but the food here is different. All of it, despite how cleverly or creatively prepared, contains some demonic micro organism which is fully intent on raising hell on my stomach 24/7.

I noticed this plague a few days after arriving. I was able to stave off the early stages of what can only be called perpetual upset stomach, and instead ate liberally in the dining facilities. It was only later, when I succumbed to soft, chewy, chilled chocolate chip cookies that I started to notice the battle occurring in my gut. As if the foods devoured in Kuwait, and aboard aircrafts inbound to this region, was violent in nature towards non-middle eastern preparation.

War!! War in the Middle East! But not the one you’ll read bout in the papers, no, this is the one everyone who arrives here feels personally. The war of intestines with new and potentially painful bacteria which can be found on local plant life; but mostly which can be found on the salad bar in the dining facility. I thought it was only me until someone else told me that yes, when he first deployed it was a two to three week experience of annoying bathroom trips and chances to read more urinal graffiti.

Hence the addition of spinach to an otherwise uneventful meal. Spinach and bread. Anything to sop up the stomach acid and clot my intestines. Somewhat like the first aid training the other day, except my malady is internal, and will be fixed with smart food choices rather than a bandage. So bring it on, mystery virus. I can play this game three meals a day. And sometimes during snack time, for when I’m bored.