Views of the Ganges From Our Sickbed

Blogs, like Facebook, tend to glamorize events, buff them up until they practically glow. Well, except for the view out the window of the Ganges, there's nothing glamorous about how we are feeling. After praying at the porcelain alter yesterday morning, and traveling across the country, my fever skyrocketed last night. Ilana was my Florence Nightingale, wiping me down with a clean, wet sock as I was too delirious to make it to the bathroom.

The fever lasted nearly all night. Then, at about 3 a.m. I heard  Ilana in the bathroom, having her own un-glorious experience.
Some will say it is that one time that I ate street food, or some of the iffy non-bottled hotel water, or perhaps any of the exotic meals we ate. No one exactly knows. But I was good enough to snap some sunrise pictures before I descended into a fever-induced funk for the rest of the day with my sick Florence Nightingale.
Hopefully tomorrow will be better.
Blogs, like Facebook, tend to glamorize events, buff them up until they practically glow. Well, except for the view out the window of the Ganges, there's nothing glamorous about how we are feeling. After praying at the porcelain alter yesterday morning, and traveling across the country, my fever skyrocketed last night. Ilana was my Florence Nightingale, wiping me down with a clean, wet sock as I was too delirious to make it to the bathroom.
The fever lasted nearly all night. Then, at about 3 a.m. I heard  Ilana in the bathroom, having her own un-glorious experience.
Some will say it is that one time that I ate street food, or some of the iffy non-bottled hotel water, or perhaps any of the exotic meals we ate. No one exactly knows. But I was good enough to snap some sunrise pictures before I descended into a fever-induced funk for the rest of the day with my sick Florence Nightingale.
Hopefully tomorrow will be better.