I have the most humiliating predisposition to fainting, and usually at the most inopportune moments. It can be brought on by crowds, heat, fatigue, dehydration, or when I am completely thoughtless its because of all the above.
It has happened at concerts, on Cairo's streets, and in Canada Day's partying crowds amongst other unfortunate scene.
Drinking about 6 liters of water a day has probably been my saving grace up till now against the Indian climate. And although it briefly occurred to me this morning that it was a bad idea to have wandered out of the city without a water bottle in hand, I thought the 2 litres I had this morning would tie me over for a bit. Wrong.
It was highly recommended to me that I visit the tea museum before heading up to the tea plantations, so I made the stop. It was a terrific bore.
As soon as it started to get interesting with a talk from one of the factory workers, the dizziness came on. The giant metal tea leaf vats reached the length of the room, reaching up to our waist. The tourists were packed in in between and the smell of fresh tea leaves quickly transformed from pleasant to nauseating as it filled up the remaining gaps of the room. I focused on not vomiting on the tea.
This time sight was the first to go and as I felt around I tried to squeeze by the tourists next to me, who were obviously perturbed as I heard a faceless voice say, "You can't get out."
"I am very di--,"
I really don't think that I finished the sentence before waking up on the cement floor. My first thought was I cannot believe I just ruined that man's talk about tea, and the close second was I really wish they would stop throwing water in my face, but my body hadn't quite figured out how to use my mouth again.
Then, I heard the universal Indian remedy cried out from a pair of lungs: "Get chai!"
I was so emabarassed and felt terrible for being the cause of everyone being rushed out of that little tea factory. But this was slightly eased by the typical Indian hospitality of strangers who sat me by a window and served me water, chai, biscuts, and reassuring smiles.
I pulled my, now wet, hair out of my face and I thought there might be a fire in my brain.
The massive bump on my right temple told me that I must have smashed my head on one of those giant tea vats and because I blacked out before I fell I couldn't tell how hard I fell and was worried I may have gotten a concussion.
I vaguely remember walking back to my hotel, and couldn't believe I lost one of only a couple days I have in Munnar when I rolled over in bed and my ipod read 7:00 p.m.
It has happened at concerts, on Cairo's streets, and in Canada Day's partying crowds amongst other unfortunate scene.
Drinking about 6 liters of water a day has probably been my saving grace up till now against the Indian climate. And although it briefly occurred to me this morning that it was a bad idea to have wandered out of the city without a water bottle in hand, I thought the 2 litres I had this morning would tie me over for a bit. Wrong.
It was highly recommended to me that I visit the tea museum before heading up to the tea plantations, so I made the stop. It was a terrific bore.
As soon as it started to get interesting with a talk from one of the factory workers, the dizziness came on. The giant metal tea leaf vats reached the length of the room, reaching up to our waist. The tourists were packed in in between and the smell of fresh tea leaves quickly transformed from pleasant to nauseating as it filled up the remaining gaps of the room. I focused on not vomiting on the tea.
This time sight was the first to go and as I felt around I tried to squeeze by the tourists next to me, who were obviously perturbed as I heard a faceless voice say, "You can't get out."
"I am very di--,"
I really don't think that I finished the sentence before waking up on the cement floor. My first thought was I cannot believe I just ruined that man's talk about tea, and the close second was I really wish they would stop throwing water in my face, but my body hadn't quite figured out how to use my mouth again.
Then, I heard the universal Indian remedy cried out from a pair of lungs: "Get chai!"
I was so emabarassed and felt terrible for being the cause of everyone being rushed out of that little tea factory. But this was slightly eased by the typical Indian hospitality of strangers who sat me by a window and served me water, chai, biscuts, and reassuring smiles.
I pulled my, now wet, hair out of my face and I thought there might be a fire in my brain.
The massive bump on my right temple told me that I must have smashed my head on one of those giant tea vats and because I blacked out before I fell I couldn't tell how hard I fell and was worried I may have gotten a concussion.
I vaguely remember walking back to my hotel, and couldn't believe I lost one of only a couple days I have in Munnar when I rolled over in bed and my ipod read 7:00 p.m.
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