A bizarre phenomenon from the Big Boot
As many of my millions of readers are aware, I experienced the first eight weeks of my current pregnancy in Italy and Malta. This time 'round, my morning sickness was much more severe than last (I still didn't chuck though - I've forgotten how to), and the worst was in Sicily, Malta and Pompeii. Our sight-seeing was curtailed a little as a result, but I soldiered on as well as I could on most days, not wanting to miss out on Important Roman Ruins and island cruises.
Incidentally, if you are already nauseous and someone offers you a cheap day cruise around Malta on a hulking great rust-bucket from the middle ages and the swell is about a metre and a half, turn them down politely. That was a loooong day. And I must apologise to my father, who called me on that day to congratulate us on our recent expecting-ness and ask how I was feeling. My end of the conversation consisted mostly of "Brrrrgh", "Mm" and "Just a sec - no, I'm ok...". Sorry, Pa.
Now to the point. Once we returned to Sydney, the nausea was fading, but still not completely gone. It always returned, however, when I saw, heard or recalled anything Italian. Walking past a pasta restaurant made me clutch my stomach. Chatting to girlfriends about shoe-shopping in Florence made me burp. And I had to take a few deep breaths before I entered the new "Quattro Stagione" deli in my neighbourhood.
Ooh - that reminds me - now that I'm starting to get a belly, I should post a belly shot. Stay tuned.
Get me a bucket.