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Well, this is debilitating and humiliating. I had an accident in a nice restaurant today. White shorts, no less. Everything showed. There was no saving the drawers - I had to jettison them. I wrapped them up like a biohazard and stuffed them in the garbage.

The shorts had to be scrubbed vigorously - and yet, not 100% effective. I walked out of there nonchalantly, with a very stiff stride. Folks smiled politely, but they probably all knew something was... amiss.

I am very grateful to Krishna that it was a single stall bathroom. Had it been a shared bathroom, Moksha might have come early -via shame-induced spontaneous combustion. 

It's a good idea to stay inside the Airbnb today. 

After an afternoon rest and several Norflox tablets, I ventured outside and chose the busiest restaurant within walking distance. Safety in crowds, I figured. To my surprise and delight, hamburgers were on the menu. Real ones I was told.

I ordered one; the manager promised me it was a beef. But being an ugly American, I know beef, and this definitely was not. What I don't know are the myriad of other animals it could have been. Goat? Buffalo? Dog? Who's to say?

The possibilities are endless - it was ground up something, slapped between two pieces of bread, and served up with Ketchup that the manager swore was better than Heinz.

The ketchup was excellent. As for the burger, I think the dog outside the restaurant enjoyed it very much. I slipped it to him under the table like some guilty child at the dinner table with the turnips.

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