Episode III: Revenge of the Poison

Waking up a victorious half-marathoner on Monday Morning, the fever was back, my body felt terrible and my tummy was so bad. I danced into the office wearing my medal and lapped up all the praise, delicately running to the loo every 15 minutes for ghastly episodes. My manager, who is Tunisian and knows all about the dangers of seafood poisoning, spends the morning nagging me to  "take this food poisoning seriously", but although I felt horrible, it felt worse to slink off on another sickie after you spent your weekend running half marathons.

By 3pm I'm half collapsed all over my desk, so my manager insists that I go straight to the onsite medical centre for some treatment. I find in Tunisian (heavily influenced by French) medicine there is a real tendency to over-prescribe. If I went to a doctors in the UK and said I had diarrhea but I just ran a half-marathon, my doctor would tell me that that was a bit stupid, now rest, eat white bread and drink a load of fluids. So I see a nice French doctor, who prescribes three different drugs: some clay drink-thing to line the intestines, something to correct the pH of the stomach, and something to stop the stomach cramps. I went and got them all from the pharmacy. Came home, took them and went to bed.
I woke up suddenly about 7pm, scratching my head like a crazy person. I was dreaming and my head was just so itchy. I stopped myself, but as I did I began to realise that the back of my neck was also swollen, and covered in lumps. My ears were swollen too, like Shrek ears and I couldn't hear. I panicked. My face didn't feel right. I switched on the light and saw a terrible sight. I have a picture. I can't put it here, it's not my vanity, but I just wouldn't want to make you cry. My poor face. On eye was swollen completely shut and I looked like I had had a stroke. And it was covered in red itchy lumps. I was panicking by now.

 Here's some rash from my tummy for you to enjoy

I called my friend Lucy, who is good at medical French and she calmed me and reassured me that my face would go back to normal. That fact that she was even considering that it wouldn't was freaking me out a little. We went to the La Marsa Clinic, a private hospital near to my house. I managed to quickly warn Lucy about my low blood pressure and tendency to faint before they hooked me up to a drip and as predicted, I fainted. Lucy, who had never seen anyone faint before was quite delighted. The doctor genuinely didn't know what was happening.
 
The swelling in my head and neck started to go down a bit and the itchy rash started to subside. The doctor there gave me another prescription - three more drugs... seriously?

Then I went home and slept for two days.

I'm fine now.

If you had asked me three years ago what my biggest fears in the world were, I would almost have definitely said:

1. Having a blood test
2. Having a drip

I have now done both. In Africa. Sometimes I amaze even myself.

xxx

Episode II: Attack of the Half Marathon

Oh Wow. Oh wow it is done. Part of me is still in disbelief, at 10km, wondering if I will ever make it. What a headgame. Blimey. Okay - let me get a bit more coherent, and start at the beginning. Are you sitting comfortably?

The Day Before...
The suspense and exciting began when we went to pick up our race numbers. Everyone else was late, and I was early, as usual, so I spent some time examining the race route and strategising. The event was being organised by the Youth Sports Centre in La Marsa, and as a waited, a big group of boys came out from registering and we talked a bit about target times, and laughed when we realised that my amazement at their predicted times was because they were actually doing the 5km Fun Run and not the half-marathon.
A nice French man, who was collecting a running number for his daughter also came over. When I told him that I was hoping to finish in 2:30, he laughed and said I would be under two hours. It was then that I put a bit more effort into translating the poster and came to realise that the half marathon was targetted at more "professional runners"... crikey...

My race number was 283, and instead of being given a big pre-race goodie bag full of promotional treats, energy gels, dried pasta, magazines, energy bars, we got 4 safety-pins and a map - nice. Infact this was one of the most charming things about the day - the total no-frills approach to running. And the theme would continue, as you shall see.

So that afternoon I spent some time painting my nails with go-fast tiger stripes, before heading to Penny's for the Pasta Party extravaganza. I ate meatball and pasta until it hurt, and then, feeling confident and sipping water constantly to maintain extreme hydration, I headed home to bed.

Superfast Tiger stripes - who knew I could be so girlie?

All of that hydration and the nerves had me up in the night with frequent bathroom stops, but as a measure of my extreme determination, warrior-like prowess and ninja-style readiness, I can report that on one trip in those early morning hours, I encountered a big-fat cockroach and rather than scream and panic, I stamped on him - crushing his golden brown shell, and went about my business. I run long distance buddy, you really wanna cross me?

Yes, Mum, I was wearing slippers.

Race Morning
I woke up excitedly - adrenaline was kicking in already. I'd made some oats overnight in the fridge, whoffed them down, got my running gear on and went to meet the other girlies. The race organisers had recommended that we arrive 2 hours before the race, we rolled up half an hour before, but that was still plenty of time to get a slight headache from the marching band and catch the end of the hour-long Zumba class that was going on for competitors and their families up on the La Marsa Corniche (serious Tunisia, you out-do yourself daily!).

Pre-race nerves and excitement...

9am loomed, suddenly we were counting down (in Arabic) and I could not believe it when we set off on time! It was a bit weird to be alongside so many other people. I had decided with my homegirls to stick together until 10km, then we would all see how we were doing.

The first 5km were a bit tough, I was so nervous, usually I'm a total chatterbox, but the nerves had my mind all over the place. I kept doing little body checks: 

How are my legs? - yep, my legs are okay
How is my tummy? - tummy fine down here, keep going.
Toes? toes? how are you guys? - yep, we're alright, feeling good. 
Okay, let's just keep going then.

The first 5k came in a bit slow, none of us have fancy running watches (yet) so we were just relying on watches and timers on iPods and alike, but it was a bit dis-heartening.

From 5-10km the route was easy, we had praticed it many times before, the problem was it was just dull. It was alongside a highway, which was nice because the millions of marshals had stopped all the traffic and lots of families came out and waved to us. At 10km we had a pit-stop. The pit-stops were brilliant, none of the Western energy drinks or sports gels, here we had segments of blood oranges, sugar cubes and raisins.

From 10km we decided to break off a bit, to run at our own paces. I'm running without music. This is because the full Marathon that I want to do in September bans the use of headphones and so I need to practice without them. I don't really mind, but it takes the distraction away a bit and means that you are pretty much in-it the whole way through. 10-15km felt good. I had lots of little mantras that I had been working on. Tunisia has a very special cheesecake shop called Barista which is unlike anything you would ever find in my United Kingdom, and is more on a par with the mighty US with shelves and shelves of different flavoured cheesecakes to help Tunisia along in her majestic quest for a type II diabetes epidemic. We had already been to the cheesecake shop and stocked up - slices and slices of banana & walnut, raspberry, malteasers and salted caramel flavoured cheesecake lay waiting in my friend Lucy's fridge for our triumphant return. So for the hills, my mantra of choice was:

"I am fit and I am strong,
Eating cheesecake later on"

It worked extremely well.

15km was my "happy place". It was marked by a refreshment stand and Le Cap restaurant where I had had my birthday eve dinner, I knew then that there were just 6km to go and that was about 35mins more running and so I told myself, "I can do anything for 35 minutes... 35 minutes is nothing". The 15th km began with a gigantic hill, that as a highway engineer, I do believe must have required a number of departures. Every time I stand at the bottom of it expletives explode for my chest in sheer terror. I don't know where they even come from. I'm sure I don't usually use words like that...

Hill done, I had intended to think of my family and especially my Mum from kilometers 15-20. They were hard, but drawing on my biggest inspirations made it all so much easier. Long distance running is such a headgame your body is screaming at you: 

"what are you doing?!! err.. can we stop please?" 
And my head would say, "what is it? what do you want? you want water?" 
"Nah, I don't need water, feeling pretty hydrated"
"well what then? you need fuel? I can give you a jelly baby?" 
"Nah, I'm okay, my tummy kinda hurts, I just wanna stop really" 
"sorry team, we can't stop, we're almost there... keep going, I will give you anything" 
"I want a gold Berber chain necklace" 
"and you shall have one." 
"...and matching earrings"
"don't push it now."

At 18km with just 3 to go, I grabbed a cup of water at one of the stops (it was so hot by now) and was delighted to find a big hung of orange inside the cup, lovingly placed by the race marshal. Grateful for the extra sugars, I shoved it in my mouth before checking for pips and choked my way to the 20km mark. 

The last km was all through the suburb in which I live. Running past the pharmacy, the external clock was displaying 11:03am and I panicked that my typically British humility at telling everyone "don't even bother showing up until 11:30 - you'll be waiting round for ages", might mean that there was no-one there to cheer us in. Of course my friends knew that I had completely underestimated myself and were there screaming, cheering and complaining about the sun as I rounded the corner to the Corniche and the finish line.

Time was checked in, and I was bundled from person to person, someone put a medal on my neck, I got a t-shirt and a bag of dates, and some water. And it was over, 2:13 minutes by my stopwatch. Wow.

The experience taught me so much. Here are my key outcomes:

1. Running is hard. That was hard. The full marathon is going to be hard. But I am harder.
2. Don't carry so much stuff - there is loads of support at the stations so you don't need so much fuel.
3. Have post-run refreshments ready. We really messed up here - our post run nutrition was all over the place in all the excitement.
4. Support is amazing - I saw lots of families out cheering for their runners and it made me so so excited for my full marathon in September when I'm hoping some friends and family will come along. What a boost!
5. Pride is intoxicating.

So afterwards we had some gorgeous massages and then had an extremely rich supper of Cumberland sausages and mash, and the gorgeous and well deserved cheesecake, and everyone felt proud and happy and wonderful.

Episode I: The Phantom Oyster

Now I have to tell you a Saga. And this saga, like all great stories happens in three parts, but each part is interlinked so that the full story is woven into a beautiful fabric, which, in the end, you can wrap yourself in and feel like you have a full and complete understanding of everything that happened. This is Episode I. This tells an account of my birthday. Enjoy.

The night before my birthday we went to my favourite restaurant. It's actually a group of restaurants called Le Cap. There are three different restaurants within the complex, one that serves Lebanese tapas, one serving Italian-Tunisian fusion cuisine, and one serving French food. We went to the French restaurant because it was the fanciest, serves the best steaks in the country (in the honest and humble opinion of my South African friend Ian, and trust me, South Africans know a thing or two about steaks), and I had to celebrate surviving 27 Club in style. It was beautiful and that's all there is to say... oh, and there was cake:

Wednesday morning, my 28th birthday. I woke up early and went for the final pre-half-marathon training run with my running buddies. I was excited to see how my 28 year old body compared to that of a 27 year old. Turns out it was pretty similar.

The 20th March is a national holiday in Tunisia. It marks Tunisia's independence from France and is celebrated, not only by a national day, but by a brand of cigarettes, les vingt mars and a number of streets are also named after this date. It all makes me feel rather special and like I belong here.

Loving a day-trip, I organised a bit of a jolly up to the marine city of Bizerte. Bizerte is the most Northerly city in Africa and was a strategic port town during the Roman occupation of Tunisia. Nowadays it's a sleepy fishing city an hour or so north of Tunis.
 

Much of the action is nestled around a beautiful old marina, filled with un-seaworthy looking wooden boats and cafes and restaurants. Although it was a public holiday the whole place was quiet and tranquil and waiting to be explored.

On one side of the marina was a fort which used to serve as a stronghold for the city. We scaled the fort walls for spectacular views of the Mediterranean Sea and access to real cannons, which I naturally climbed all over.

The gang and the Fort walls

In the afternoon we drove to a gorgeous restaurant about 2km north of the city called Le Petite Mousse. It was set in an original 1970's style boutique hotel. The food was absolutely beautiful. Everyone declared it the greatest food that they had eaten in Tunisia. The restaurant specialised in seafood and so it was a typical "select your fish" affair. It was the first time I had seen Oysters (les Huîtres) on a Tunisian Menu, and I just couldn't resist. "Sont-ils frais?" I asked the server with a smile... well what he going to say? really...

Carb-loading-conscious I had some lovely salmon and prawn tagliatelle for main course. And a whole bread basket.

We walked off lunch along an old pier to the lighthouse, and then returned back to Tunis where I caught up with my family via the magic of technology and sighed at having spent the loveliest day in the nicest places with the greatest people.

Thursday night. I am awakened by a terrible pain in my stomach. At first I think it's hunger, but quickly rationalise that as I have been eating for a small village for the past week, this is extremely unlikely. But the pain is very definite and there. I feel feverish and weak. With loads of work to do before the weekend, I drag myself into the office, but just make it past lunchtime before my manager scolds me and sends me home. A quick check in with my Oyster-accomplices confirms my worst fears - food poisoning.

Friday night I am beside myself, willing my poor body to get better. Feeding it soup and water and nothing else and heading to bed with a prayer, hoping to be strong enough for the weekend half marathon.

The Reckless Behaviour of a 28 year old

Soon (tomorrow?) I will write you all about my amazing birthday, the birthday-eve dinner at my favourite restaurant in Tunis, my birthday, early morning 10km and the day trip that I organised for 25 people to Bizerte, the most northerly city in all of Africa.

But first, I must introduce you to someone:

Look at this girl. Look how she smiles with happiness and expectation at the birthday oyster that she is about to embark on, blissfully unaware that in just 36 hours she will be bent over with crippling stomach cramps, unable to stand, offering God her firstborn child in exchange for the pain. Little does she know that she is jepardising months of half-marathon training on the final stretch by ingesting nasty bacteria into her already compromised body, just days away from the longest race of her life.

I hate this girl.

Pray for me, People xxx

It's been 10 long years

It has come. Today is the Birthday-eve of my 28th Birthday. Just ten years ago I leapt into adulthood with excitement, apprehension, hope and a younger pair of legs. I think this is a natural pause for me, to review how the past ten years have gone, to look at where I'm going and to reflect a little on the lessons, changes and outcomes.

I've been thinking about 18-year-old Michelle a lot lately. Since almost all of you gorgeous readers are my family, almost all of you knew her. You'll remember she was very headstrong, hard-working, unforgiving, sarcastic, shy and awkward. Here she is:

On my 18th birthday, ten years ago tomorrow, the UK, US, Poland and Australia declared war on Iraq and began airstrikes on Baghdad, I attended a inter-school conference on the Arab-Israeli peace process and I received a laptop for university from my parents.

I expected to hit a number of milestones over the next ten-years, and though some of them didn't happen for me, I was given new challenges and opportunities that I never thought were possible. I did things that were literally beyond my wildest dreams. For example, when I was 18, I had visited three foreign countries, France, the US and Spain. Ten years later, I have visited those three all again, and 23 others. Oh, you wanna hear them? Well, I did make a little list, (in no particular order); Belgium, Holland, Germany, Austria, Italy, Croatia, Zambia, Zimbabwe, Botswana, South Africa, Morocco, Mozambique, Tanzania, Ghana, Uganda, Kenya, India, Romania, Ireland, Turkey, Qatar, Iceland, (I actually stopped there before I remembered...) Tunisia. And I have skipped over the borders for visas in Rwanda and DRC. Wow!

But more than the adventures and travel, the biggest thing has been how much my mind has opened and changed and developed. When I was 18, things were so black and white, I was very judgmental and self assured. Overtime I have learnt that there is some middle-ground, that balance and understanding are important. I have made mistakes, bad ones, and had to work through the consequences and learnt to forgive myself. I have learnt to relax, to be thankful, to appreciate my family.

In ten years time, I don't know where I'll be, or who I'll be, but I hope to look back at 28 year old Michelle and smile at how she really did think she knew-it-all!

Happy Birthday to Me - I'm off to the beach!

Tutt takes a Tuc-Tuc

It's been such a busy time lately. Work is manic and takes up my every waking minute throughout the week (and some of the dreamtime ones too). I can't complain, it's lovely to feel challenged and busy. But naturally this is leaving me with little time for adventures and reporting. Don't you worry, we have some lovely big events coming up that will be full of fun and excitement. Not least my Birthday on Wednesday, which I share with Tunisia, and so get a public holiday, and for which gifts have already started arriving at the office from lovely friends in land far away - quadrupling my excitement! Then we have the great race (more on this later) and then Easter, for which I am baking a Simnel cake... one of these days, and then I have some days off and my Mummy and Daddy are coming - yippee!

So I just have a couple of little reports:

1. Ghana Independence Day

Last Sunday we celebrated Ghanian independence day at my church. Ghana is a country that holds a really special place in my heart - it was a country that I had eagerly wanted to visit for a long time, before becoming the first African country that I worked in as a professional. I found the people and culture so open and welcoming. They have this delicious food called Kele Wele which is very spicy plantain deep fried and eaten like chips. The spice mix is delicious and so moreish, but your eyes water and your mouth burns from the chilli. 

Ghana boasts a really specific type of cloth called kente which is a woven fabric with quite a blocky style in warm colours like gold, orange and red, so it was lovely to see lots of the congregation wearing theirs and brightening Tunisia up.

I look forward to returning to Ghana someday soon.

2. A Crazy Ride

I moved into a furnished apartment here in Tunis, because I have moved around so much in the last five years and the thought of painstakingly picking out a load of furniture (again), and then selling it at a loss (again) when life moves me on, was just too much to bear. This said, my apartment is a bit sparse, and as I am due to be hosting soon, I thought a couple of investments are probably in order. I decided that I wanted to buy a sideboard for my living room, and so I found a very quaint carpenter's close to my church and picked out one that fit the bill. My problem is that I don't drive.

I can drive, but the sad fact is that I'm a horrible, horrible driver. Easily distracted, bored and thrown into a panic by unanticipated circumstances, my track record in both the UK and Uganda was pretty dismal. Luckily comprehensive insurance or a sorry smile, respectively, can get you out or a rough spot in each of those places, but I fear that this just won't fly here in Tunis. Plus with a very reliable and inexpensive taxi force here, most journeys can be made very easily. Except when you are buying a sideboard...

So the carpenter, like Jesus, sets in motion a miracle, and orders, what he tells me in French, is a "scooter". Immediately alarmed, I breath a shallow sign of relief when this little beauty flies round the corner: 

A Tuc-Tuc! Just like in India! So we took the Tuc-Tuc all the way from Tunis centre to La Marsa, where I live. It's only about 20km, but it took well over an hour, so low was the top speed. And let me tell you, that cabin is not really designed for two people!
We felt every bump in the road and it really made me miss the boda bodas of Kampala.

3. Tunis Artisan Fair
For this week and next a big arts and crafts fair is being held in Le Kram, another suburb of Tunis. We headed along this afternoon so find out what the Craic was - ahh c'mon it's St Patrick's day, If I can't say it now, when can I say it?

So the spirit of the event seems to be applying traditional Tunisian techniques to more modern art pieces. For example look at these mosiacs! Yes, really:
 

 

There was lots of furniture on offer too. Offering flashes of Tunisian Berber culture, with the comfort and practicality of modern pieces.

And there were scarey puppets... and this is from a girl who in general, does like a good marionette.

Tunisien Patesserie artisans were hard at work. I'm now carb-loading in earnest and so avoid too much high fat, but my friend had some some pistachio brittle which she said was amazing. Cow.

Can you see those bad boys up front? They are my favourites. They look like sea shells all curled up and lovely and deep fried with pistachio sprinkled on. They're actually called "ouedhnines el khadhi" which is Arabic for ears of the judge. The name comes from the idea that the local judge would only listen to the grievances of the citizens intermittently, so when he did, he had to have big ears, because there was alot for them to complain about. During Ramadan these are one of the specialty pastries that are served. I didn't have any today... but next time...

And here's a tower of my second favourite, while we're on sweeties... Nougat!

I just like it because it reminds me of my Mummy.

I just bought some single-girl essentials, like shot glasses and soap - classy!

4. One Week to Go
Enfin, it's just one week to go until the half marathon, and by all calculations, we are ready! Two 18km training runs under our belts, it has been an adventure - I just cannot wait to get it done, and get over that finish line. Then I'm planning a month off, before I start my MARATHON TRAINING SCHEDULE. I must be mad!

Right, off to fix a curry, after many failed attempts to get the right spices (The French word for Tumeric is Curcuma, not to be confused with Cumin or Coriander) I think today could be the day.

Big love xxx

Marching through March

Hey Kids,

I'm back! and I'm so much better! I was really sick for a while there, and I was so miserable as I had been bragging so much about my perfect health all through winter and attributing it to my super healthy diet, but in the end, that nasty African bug caught up with me. 

So sadly I don't have many nice "life in Tunisia" stories for you today as things have been pretty quiet - but just you wait, have got some nice stuff planned this weekend that you're going to LOVE.

Otherwise I have been plodding away with my little 30before30 goals.

10. Run a Marathon
The half marathon training has taken up everything. Seriously. I feel like I have become one of those crazy people who are completely obsessed with exercise. I have plenty of friends who have had babies lately and they often remark that they are in completely in awe of their bodies - that they were able to grow a human in their tummies, that the human body is amazing. This is how I feel. And this isn't even as magical and miraculous as procreation - but I still can't believe that I am still doing this, and that even though I keep feeding it M&Ms and dolly mixtures, my body keeps going.

I am almost 6 weeks through the 8 week training schedule. I did some sums today, and so far I have run 168.7km (sorry it's a crazy number it's to do with km/mile conversions) of the 265.6kms that are in my training plan (that includes the Halfy herself). So I am 64% of the way through - which makes me feel nice.

Now I don't usually take a whole load of selfies, but I took this picture for my sister who bought me new top for the gym. This is how disgusting 13kms looks:

26. Read the Big Russian Novels
I am tearing through Anna Karenina. I wish I hadn't spent so long worrying about which translation to read and had just cracked on with it years ago. It's brilliant. There are about 800 pages and I'm on 550. It's solidifying my St. Petersburg Dreams.

27. Read the Whole Bible
So I've finished the new Testament now - it was a hoot, especially Revelations which I had definitely never read before. It was a bit out there - think I would have remembered that.
Now back in the Jewish Law. It's heavy, but I've got a little reading plan and am just marching through.
On the religious note, I gave up alcohol for lent. It's even harder than when I gave up eating mammals. It's really tough. I have a bottle of Californian wine in the fridge ready for Easter Sunday. Social occasions are a nightmare - I even had a work function with ever-flowing champagne. This is so unbelievably rare, you cannot imagine.

Other nice things:

• My friend had a baby - and I knit her a hat, but she is tiny and the hat is huge. She's working on growing so that it fits. My friend filmed the birth - he is a nutter.

• A new Kate Nash album came out and it's keeping my ears very busy. I can't wait until it's warm enough to lie on the beach and listen to it.
• A new restaurant opened near to my house and they have a special license to serve pork. I had a Parma Ham salad there last night and it was so delicious that I bit my tongue. Hard.
• Tomorrow is payday! 

Big Kisses xxxx