Disclaimer: this post contains graphic content not intended for the faint of heart (or should I say any male). You have been warned.
It's was like a dream come true when I finished my period the week before I set out for a three week adventure. Guess I can unpack the tampons, the period panties and Midol. Honestly, who wants to have that in the back of their mind while basking on the beaches of Bali? Not I!
A couple days into the trip, my travel companion was less than surprised (or excited) to receive her monthly reminder of celibacy, but was prepared for her regular seven day cycle. Life continued per usual as we trucked around Ubud on motorcycles, doing yoga and avoiding the constant monsoon of rain! After a few days in the lush green jungle, we were ready for the beach portion to begin! I can see it now... white sandy beaches, turquoise as far as the eye can see, clear skies and sunshine. Ok, ok, so when we actually arrived to the tiny island off the coast of Lombok after a rough 2 hour boat journey, it was cloudy skies and still raining, but we were on the island and that was all that mattered. After settling into our beach bungalows and reserving our bicycles for the duration of our time, my first mission was to book one of the infamous snorkeling trips around the three small islands. Ten US dollars including everything but your own swim suit... done and done. All set for the following day!
That night, we perused around the island on our peddle bikes, enjoyed some cocktails in a cabana and dinner with our toes in the sand! Back at the bungalow, Ayesha announced, "My last tampon. My period has been ridiculous... on a day, off a day... hope it is actually finished now. Ugh, I need to get back on birth control!" We settled into our shared king size bed in the romantic honeymoon sweet we were given (not per request). That night, I dreamt of sea turtles (if you don't see sea turtles during the snorkeling trip, you get the whole ten dollars back), millions of Nemo's and killer sharks... ok, so I am a little bit afraid of the ocean.
When the alarm went off, I bounced out of bed excited for the day! I head to the bathroom for the usual morning routine when low and behold, who decides to join our vacation... none other than Aunt Flow herself! You have got to be kidding me! I rush out of the bathroom. "Ayesha, do you have another tampon?"
"No, I used the last one yesterday!" She responds
"You have got to be kidding me!" I am practically pulling out my hair. "Thanks Ayesh, I started my period and I blame you!"
"Why me?" She defends herself against my words like knives hurdled at her head.
"Because I already had my period and I wasn't supposed to get my period while on vacation!"
"Well it's not my fault but good luck finding some tampons on this island!" She snorts and I stare at her with repugnance. She knows just as well as I do that I have a better chance of getting eaten by a shark than finding tampons.
"Fucking Muslim South East Asia!" Ok, so that was harsh, but it is true.
Already it is next to impossible to buy tampons in Asia, but add the Muslim factor and you're proper screwed! I don't really know why Asians don't use tampons. It is beyond me while they would rather walk around with a diaper between their legs, and then dispose of the feminine hygiene products in the waste bins of public bathrooms (if it makes it into the waist bin) in the least discreet manner possible [insert image; face up bloody pad laying next to the toilet - visualizing it? Good, because I get to actually see that image ALL. THE. TIME] than use tampon. Muslims, I guess I can understand. Religious purposes. They believe that using a tampon is equivalent to losing their virginity. But what about after they are no longer a virgin, or after they have a baby? They have got to see some purpose in the most amazing cotton ball on a string God-given gift for women!
Anyway, I start tearing my backpack and purse apart, praying that I missed one in the midst of my I-am-not-going-to-be-on-my-period happy dance! To no avail, I was thorough in my removal, thus rendering me tampon-less! Clearly the only option at this point is to quickly go to the store in hopes of finding something to control my situation.
"Of course," I yell from the bathroom, "now we are also out of toilet paper. Let me just jump on my bike and ride God knows how long to the nearest store." Yes, it was a bit dramatic, but I was in a serious state of affairs. So I did just that... jumped on my bike and rode a mile or so down the dirt road clenching my legs together in the process. The first store (this term is being generous to the one shelf of goods for sale in the shack) had a small box of pads, but I was still feeling a little hopeful, so we headed forward to the bigger store further down the road. Just as we expected, pads, pads and more pads. My choices were sizes big, large and extra large. Decisions, decisions. After paying TEN DOLLARS for a package of five adult diapers, I was back on my bike returning to the bungalow.
Again, I dug through my backpack looking for the "bigger" or the two swim suits I had brought - holding them up against the diaper trying to gage which would offer more coverage (of the pad, not my goods). After settling on the older swim suit with polka dots, simply because I did not want to risk ruining my favorite new black bottoms, I declared, "Victoria does not make swim suits for depends!"
After all was adhesively secured in place, and the wings were cut off, my confidence was surely out the window. There was no way I was going to feel comfortable strutting around in a bikini, nor was it going to be fun swimming in the diapers barely tucked into my cheeky VS biniki bottoms.
"Don't worry. You can't see it!" Ayesha assured me. "The idea of it is much worse than the actually ordeal and you stop bleeding when you are swimming in water anyways, you'll be fine!"
"Thank you, but I think that is just something a friend made up to tell her friend right before she jumped into the water, sank because of her extra absorbent pad and was eaten by a shark because, in fact, she had not stopped bleeding." I huffed.
As we loaded the boat of a couple dozens of other people, I did a quick survey. Family, family, good looking guys, good looking guys, ooooh, really good looking guy, family, family. Of course, my luck continues. As we arrived to our first snorkeling destination, the captain yells for us to gear up and jump in the water. People start shredding their clothing and diving in. I thought that I could take my time getting ready so that most of the people would be off the boat when I was ready for my grand entrance. The first time it worked and I was safely in the water without anyone noticing my Little Swimmer (or at least, I don't think anyone noticed... or maybe they did and were kind enough to not bring it to everyone's attention). Once I began swimming, I was only mildly aware of the extra baggage weighing down my drawers. The beauty of the sea below was a nice distraction - sea turtles, tons of bright fish and lively coral!
I had a mini panic attack when it was time to get back into the boat. There was a small ladder attached to the side. Let's be honest, not even Pamala Anderson looks good haphazardly climbing up a boat ladder while it crashes in the water and bobs against the waves. I made a quick dash to the boat to climb up before the queue started. I modestly ascended the ladder in the most lady-like legs-clenched way I knew how, praying that I had not ruined things for the young boy coming in behind me, ran back to my seat and SQUISH. Yes, things were worse in my head [and in my VS] than it really was, but it did not make me feel any better.
I repeated this in and out cycles two more times before we stopped off on the smallest of the three islands for lunch. Although Gili Meno was the smallest and most beautiful, it also had no more than a handful of restaurants and a guesthouse or two on the whole island. I searched out the first "bathroom" I could find to sort myself out and boy, was I in luck! The public porta-potty down the dirt alley had not been cleaned in... well, maybe ever... did not have a light, toilet paper or a waist bin nor did it flush, but at least it was a squatty and was hot enough that nothing could actually survive inside for any lengthy period of time. I took care of business the best, and most discretely way I could (I will spare the details). It was no easy task to secure a new diaper to my now wet bikini, and I was feeling a little bit defeated at this point.
Following lunch, the snorkel instructor suggested that we take a walk down the coast to see the turtle sanctuary. The turtle population is rapidly decreases because of the pollution, people and illegal poaching, so they dig up the eggs, and raise the turtles before releasing them back into the ocean to increase their survival rate. But back to the real story... After visiting the turtles, Ayesha noticed a store and gift shop on the walk back and suggested I give it a whirl for tampons. I headed straight to the hygienic isle and gave it a thorough investigation before claiming yet another defeat. Then as we were walking out, Ayesha caught eye of a small blue box on the bottom shelf under a locked cabinet of cologne. No way. We grabbed the box to inspect it - off-brand, super, stringless, cardboard applicator tampons. SOLD! I may be the world's pickiest person when it comes to my regular tampon purchases (and this little blue box could not have been farther from my normal standards), but I felt my quality of life already improving as I held it in my hand.
I enthusiastically set it on the counter in front of the old man. He gently picked up the box as if he had never seen it before and walked out from behind he counter and across the dirt road without saying a word. A minute later, he came back with a younger (and cuter, of course) man, now holding the box.
"11,000 rupiah." He rambles out the price, now looking carefully at the box, flipping it around and around. "What is this?"
"Tampons." I dig out the 11,000 [11 dollars, seriously? Are these stringless, cardboard inclosed, chunks of golden cotton? 11 bucks for 5 tampons? Doesn't matter] and hand it to the man behind the counter.
"Yeah, but what it is for?" He inquires, adorably.
"It is just for women." I offer a modest explanation as I try removing the box of gold from him hand.
"But what is it?" Seriously?
"They are tampons... for women... like for that time of the month..." He is clueless and still staring at my waiting for me to enlighten him. "Menstruation. Period. Bleeding... and if you don't give them to me right now I am going to bleed all over your shop!" I really didn't say that last part, but I was screaming it in my head. Finally, the light turned on, "Red days" he said handing the box over to me with a smile.
Glad I just had that conversation.
So another walk, another quick stop into my favorite bathroom, and I re-entered the world with a little bounce in my step. I was wearing the most uncomfortable tampon known to man, but I was at least feeling like I wasn't going to die [breaking news: American girl eaten by shark because menstruation leak].
You would think that my day could have only dramatically improved from there, as did I, but I was wrong.
After lunch, one more snorkel spot, and we were heading back to our island... that's when it hit. At first, I thought it was cramping from the unidentified object being rejected from my body. It didn't take too long for me to realize that it was actually my body rejecting the lunch I had just consumed. What did I have for lunch? Oh yes, we had eaten at a local place near the dock. I had ordered noodles with veggies as I was steering clear of meat while on this vacation, but they mixed up my veggie noodles with the chicken noodles of the girl at the next table. She had started chowing down before realizing, and I didn't want to be difficult so I accepted it. The chicken actually tasted good, so I smothered the chicken and noodles with the local spicy saucing sitting on the table and bon apetite.
As I was nearly running back to my bungalow from the dock, I was regretting that decision. "I am not feeling well." I told Ayesha, "You should probably steer clear of the bungalow and give me a couple minutes." Hey, I was trying to be kind as I already knew it was anything but sound proof. Once I made it to the throne, I was huddled over in pain as I experienced the worse diarrhea of my life [would using the words explosive, volatile, or perilous be too descriptive?] Usually with food poisoning, you feel better after ridding the body of the toxins, but I found no relief. I was up all night with terrible stomach pains, running to the bathroom. It continued into the next day and throughout the rest of our stay on the beautiful island - FIVE DAYS! I drank nothing but water, and although I was starving on a constant empty stomach, I was running to the bathroom at the first bite of food. It was miserable (because I am such a foodie), but working wonders for my beach bod and my confidence was back on the rise following the Little Swimmer snorkeling incident.
Towards the end of my stomach spout, after arriving in KL, we had ventured out to China Town to do some shopping. I was feeling optimistic that I could be away from a toilet for an extended period of time (and I just really wanted to go shopping). Our short shopping trip turned in to a couple hours and it wasn't long before I was stopped dead in my tracks with the oh-so-familiar stab of pain in my lower intestines. So I approached the women working at the store we were in, "Excuse me ma'am, can I use your bathroom?" I pleaded.
"No bathroom." Clearly unaware of what is about to transpire.
"Ok, can you tell me where the closest bathroom is?" I am nearly begging.
"No bathroom."
I am on a limit time table here. "If you needed to go to the bathroom while at work, where would you go?" She looks at me with sympathy and directs me to a bathroom around the corner and behind all the tattoo shops at the market. I know that look and I anticipate the worse bathroom scenario possible.
I do a quick jog around the corner and behind the tattoo shops to find the bathroom just how I had imagined it. There is a guy sitting outside the bathroom with a sign that says "0.50 for toilet. 0.50 for paper". I dig out my wallet. "I only have a fifty." He shrugs, takes the bill, and oh so slowly begins to count out my change. one. at. a. time. I throw a pack of tissue on the table, "This too," for good measure, but I am hoping less money back will be less time counting so I can get on with my business.
The bathroom is really more of a stall with a squatty (thankfully) - one for men and one for women - with a broken wooden door clinging on for its life, not conservative with the amount of stall it is actually covering. The man is sitting right outside the door, and although I tried to be as discreet and lady-like as I could, he was no longer sitting there when I came out.
This was not the first of uncomfortable adventures during my travels, and I am sure it will not be the last, but two important lessons I learned was to ALWAYS pack tampons and Imodium no matter what or where.
My friend's take away lesson "Cramps are always better than contractions."
She has a point.
It's was like a dream come true when I finished my period the week before I set out for a three week adventure. Guess I can unpack the tampons, the period panties and Midol. Honestly, who wants to have that in the back of their mind while basking on the beaches of Bali? Not I!
A couple days into the trip, my travel companion was less than surprised (or excited) to receive her monthly reminder of celibacy, but was prepared for her regular seven day cycle. Life continued per usual as we trucked around Ubud on motorcycles, doing yoga and avoiding the constant monsoon of rain! After a few days in the lush green jungle, we were ready for the beach portion to begin! I can see it now... white sandy beaches, turquoise as far as the eye can see, clear skies and sunshine. Ok, ok, so when we actually arrived to the tiny island off the coast of Lombok after a rough 2 hour boat journey, it was cloudy skies and still raining, but we were on the island and that was all that mattered. After settling into our beach bungalows and reserving our bicycles for the duration of our time, my first mission was to book one of the infamous snorkeling trips around the three small islands. Ten US dollars including everything but your own swim suit... done and done. All set for the following day!
That night, we perused around the island on our peddle bikes, enjoyed some cocktails in a cabana and dinner with our toes in the sand! Back at the bungalow, Ayesha announced, "My last tampon. My period has been ridiculous... on a day, off a day... hope it is actually finished now. Ugh, I need to get back on birth control!" We settled into our shared king size bed in the romantic honeymoon sweet we were given (not per request). That night, I dreamt of sea turtles (if you don't see sea turtles during the snorkeling trip, you get the whole ten dollars back), millions of Nemo's and killer sharks... ok, so I am a little bit afraid of the ocean.
When the alarm went off, I bounced out of bed excited for the day! I head to the bathroom for the usual morning routine when low and behold, who decides to join our vacation... none other than Aunt Flow herself! You have got to be kidding me! I rush out of the bathroom. "Ayesha, do you have another tampon?"
"No, I used the last one yesterday!" She responds
"You have got to be kidding me!" I am practically pulling out my hair. "Thanks Ayesh, I started my period and I blame you!"
"Why me?" She defends herself against my words like knives hurdled at her head.
"Because I already had my period and I wasn't supposed to get my period while on vacation!"
"Well it's not my fault but good luck finding some tampons on this island!" She snorts and I stare at her with repugnance. She knows just as well as I do that I have a better chance of getting eaten by a shark than finding tampons.
"Fucking Muslim South East Asia!" Ok, so that was harsh, but it is true.
Already it is next to impossible to buy tampons in Asia, but add the Muslim factor and you're proper screwed! I don't really know why Asians don't use tampons. It is beyond me while they would rather walk around with a diaper between their legs, and then dispose of the feminine hygiene products in the waste bins of public bathrooms (if it makes it into the waist bin) in the least discreet manner possible [insert image; face up bloody pad laying next to the toilet - visualizing it? Good, because I get to actually see that image ALL. THE. TIME] than use tampon. Muslims, I guess I can understand. Religious purposes. They believe that using a tampon is equivalent to losing their virginity. But what about after they are no longer a virgin, or after they have a baby? They have got to see some purpose in the most amazing cotton ball on a string God-given gift for women!
Anyway, I start tearing my backpack and purse apart, praying that I missed one in the midst of my I-am-not-going-to-be-on-my-period happy dance! To no avail, I was thorough in my removal, thus rendering me tampon-less! Clearly the only option at this point is to quickly go to the store in hopes of finding something to control my situation.
"Of course," I yell from the bathroom, "now we are also out of toilet paper. Let me just jump on my bike and ride God knows how long to the nearest store." Yes, it was a bit dramatic, but I was in a serious state of affairs. So I did just that... jumped on my bike and rode a mile or so down the dirt road clenching my legs together in the process. The first store (this term is being generous to the one shelf of goods for sale in the shack) had a small box of pads, but I was still feeling a little hopeful, so we headed forward to the bigger store further down the road. Just as we expected, pads, pads and more pads. My choices were sizes big, large and extra large. Decisions, decisions. After paying TEN DOLLARS for a package of five adult diapers, I was back on my bike returning to the bungalow.
Again, I dug through my backpack looking for the "bigger" or the two swim suits I had brought - holding them up against the diaper trying to gage which would offer more coverage (of the pad, not my goods). After settling on the older swim suit with polka dots, simply because I did not want to risk ruining my favorite new black bottoms, I declared, "Victoria does not make swim suits for depends!"
After all was adhesively secured in place, and the wings were cut off, my confidence was surely out the window. There was no way I was going to feel comfortable strutting around in a bikini, nor was it going to be fun swimming in the diapers barely tucked into my cheeky VS biniki bottoms.
"Don't worry. You can't see it!" Ayesha assured me. "The idea of it is much worse than the actually ordeal and you stop bleeding when you are swimming in water anyways, you'll be fine!"
"Thank you, but I think that is just something a friend made up to tell her friend right before she jumped into the water, sank because of her extra absorbent pad and was eaten by a shark because, in fact, she had not stopped bleeding." I huffed.
As we loaded the boat of a couple dozens of other people, I did a quick survey. Family, family, good looking guys, good looking guys, ooooh, really good looking guy, family, family. Of course, my luck continues. As we arrived to our first snorkeling destination, the captain yells for us to gear up and jump in the water. People start shredding their clothing and diving in. I thought that I could take my time getting ready so that most of the people would be off the boat when I was ready for my grand entrance. The first time it worked and I was safely in the water without anyone noticing my Little Swimmer (or at least, I don't think anyone noticed... or maybe they did and were kind enough to not bring it to everyone's attention). Once I began swimming, I was only mildly aware of the extra baggage weighing down my drawers. The beauty of the sea below was a nice distraction - sea turtles, tons of bright fish and lively coral!
I had a mini panic attack when it was time to get back into the boat. There was a small ladder attached to the side. Let's be honest, not even Pamala Anderson looks good haphazardly climbing up a boat ladder while it crashes in the water and bobs against the waves. I made a quick dash to the boat to climb up before the queue started. I modestly ascended the ladder in the most lady-like legs-clenched way I knew how, praying that I had not ruined things for the young boy coming in behind me, ran back to my seat and SQUISH. Yes, things were worse in my head [and in my VS] than it really was, but it did not make me feel any better.
I repeated this in and out cycles two more times before we stopped off on the smallest of the three islands for lunch. Although Gili Meno was the smallest and most beautiful, it also had no more than a handful of restaurants and a guesthouse or two on the whole island. I searched out the first "bathroom" I could find to sort myself out and boy, was I in luck! The public porta-potty down the dirt alley had not been cleaned in... well, maybe ever... did not have a light, toilet paper or a waist bin nor did it flush, but at least it was a squatty and was hot enough that nothing could actually survive inside for any lengthy period of time. I took care of business the best, and most discretely way I could (I will spare the details). It was no easy task to secure a new diaper to my now wet bikini, and I was feeling a little bit defeated at this point.
Following lunch, the snorkel instructor suggested that we take a walk down the coast to see the turtle sanctuary. The turtle population is rapidly decreases because of the pollution, people and illegal poaching, so they dig up the eggs, and raise the turtles before releasing them back into the ocean to increase their survival rate. But back to the real story... After visiting the turtles, Ayesha noticed a store and gift shop on the walk back and suggested I give it a whirl for tampons. I headed straight to the hygienic isle and gave it a thorough investigation before claiming yet another defeat. Then as we were walking out, Ayesha caught eye of a small blue box on the bottom shelf under a locked cabinet of cologne. No way. We grabbed the box to inspect it - off-brand, super, stringless, cardboard applicator tampons. SOLD! I may be the world's pickiest person when it comes to my regular tampon purchases (and this little blue box could not have been farther from my normal standards), but I felt my quality of life already improving as I held it in my hand.
I enthusiastically set it on the counter in front of the old man. He gently picked up the box as if he had never seen it before and walked out from behind he counter and across the dirt road without saying a word. A minute later, he came back with a younger (and cuter, of course) man, now holding the box.
"11,000 rupiah." He rambles out the price, now looking carefully at the box, flipping it around and around. "What is this?"
"Tampons." I dig out the 11,000 [11 dollars, seriously? Are these stringless, cardboard inclosed, chunks of golden cotton? 11 bucks for 5 tampons? Doesn't matter] and hand it to the man behind the counter.
"Yeah, but what it is for?" He inquires, adorably.
"It is just for women." I offer a modest explanation as I try removing the box of gold from him hand.
"But what is it?" Seriously?
"They are tampons... for women... like for that time of the month..." He is clueless and still staring at my waiting for me to enlighten him. "Menstruation. Period. Bleeding... and if you don't give them to me right now I am going to bleed all over your shop!" I really didn't say that last part, but I was screaming it in my head. Finally, the light turned on, "Red days" he said handing the box over to me with a smile.
Glad I just had that conversation.
So another walk, another quick stop into my favorite bathroom, and I re-entered the world with a little bounce in my step. I was wearing the most uncomfortable tampon known to man, but I was at least feeling like I wasn't going to die [breaking news: American girl eaten by shark because menstruation leak].
You would think that my day could have only dramatically improved from there, as did I, but I was wrong.
After lunch, one more snorkel spot, and we were heading back to our island... that's when it hit. At first, I thought it was cramping from the unidentified object being rejected from my body. It didn't take too long for me to realize that it was actually my body rejecting the lunch I had just consumed. What did I have for lunch? Oh yes, we had eaten at a local place near the dock. I had ordered noodles with veggies as I was steering clear of meat while on this vacation, but they mixed up my veggie noodles with the chicken noodles of the girl at the next table. She had started chowing down before realizing, and I didn't want to be difficult so I accepted it. The chicken actually tasted good, so I smothered the chicken and noodles with the local spicy saucing sitting on the table and bon apetite.
As I was nearly running back to my bungalow from the dock, I was regretting that decision. "I am not feeling well." I told Ayesha, "You should probably steer clear of the bungalow and give me a couple minutes." Hey, I was trying to be kind as I already knew it was anything but sound proof. Once I made it to the throne, I was huddled over in pain as I experienced the worse diarrhea of my life [would using the words explosive, volatile, or perilous be too descriptive?] Usually with food poisoning, you feel better after ridding the body of the toxins, but I found no relief. I was up all night with terrible stomach pains, running to the bathroom. It continued into the next day and throughout the rest of our stay on the beautiful island - FIVE DAYS! I drank nothing but water, and although I was starving on a constant empty stomach, I was running to the bathroom at the first bite of food. It was miserable (because I am such a foodie), but working wonders for my beach bod and my confidence was back on the rise following the Little Swimmer snorkeling incident.
Towards the end of my stomach spout, after arriving in KL, we had ventured out to China Town to do some shopping. I was feeling optimistic that I could be away from a toilet for an extended period of time (and I just really wanted to go shopping). Our short shopping trip turned in to a couple hours and it wasn't long before I was stopped dead in my tracks with the oh-so-familiar stab of pain in my lower intestines. So I approached the women working at the store we were in, "Excuse me ma'am, can I use your bathroom?" I pleaded.
"No bathroom." Clearly unaware of what is about to transpire.
"Ok, can you tell me where the closest bathroom is?" I am nearly begging.
"No bathroom."
I am on a limit time table here. "If you needed to go to the bathroom while at work, where would you go?" She looks at me with sympathy and directs me to a bathroom around the corner and behind all the tattoo shops at the market. I know that look and I anticipate the worse bathroom scenario possible.
I do a quick jog around the corner and behind the tattoo shops to find the bathroom just how I had imagined it. There is a guy sitting outside the bathroom with a sign that says "0.50 for toilet. 0.50 for paper". I dig out my wallet. "I only have a fifty." He shrugs, takes the bill, and oh so slowly begins to count out my change. one. at. a. time. I throw a pack of tissue on the table, "This too," for good measure, but I am hoping less money back will be less time counting so I can get on with my business.
The bathroom is really more of a stall with a squatty (thankfully) - one for men and one for women - with a broken wooden door clinging on for its life, not conservative with the amount of stall it is actually covering. The man is sitting right outside the door, and although I tried to be as discreet and lady-like as I could, he was no longer sitting there when I came out.
This was not the first of uncomfortable adventures during my travels, and I am sure it will not be the last, but two important lessons I learned was to ALWAYS pack tampons and Imodium no matter what or where.
My friend's take away lesson "Cramps are always better than contractions."
She has a point.
