Seasick

Try this quick word association: fishing tour.

And you respond … barramundi? Snapper? Mackerel?

Actually, I didn't come up with these targets when we took a boat ride in Darwin. I was completely at sea. And seasick. Or both. As the boat departed from the ferry terminal, I was overcome with a wave of nausea. My heart went wonky in my chest, my brow knitted with anxiety and my stomach spinning. My tummy flopped and bloated like a puffer fish on the hook.

Still lost in thought after I threw up in the toilet, I took few photos that weren't in focus. Yet what could I do? I didn't have energy to hold the fishing rod. I could not eat. I simply could not keep on an even keel.

The irony is that I didn't have to worry about my daughter who was as excited as kids in Ferris wheel.

On the way back, my friend told my daughter the good old stories in the Outward Bound course. It was the year I graduated from medical school. The summer course took place on a yacht Ji-Fung, and in the rough sea. We didn't have to hold fishing rods at that time, but were told to put on harness and make sure we vomited on the right direction on the deck – the lee side and never windward. Obediently I followed. When it was our turn to clean the cabin toilet, it was going to be much, much harder than what you'd thought. Harder than that of Sisyphus. Obviously, enclosed area inside the cabin is the last place in the world to go when you have seasickness. Up, down and around my stomach plunged, like a bad roller coaster ride. Wait. What else could I complain? Isn't being nearest to the toilet better than running to the leeward deck? Well, if and only if you're not supposed to clean up the toilet.        

How could I have believed myself joining the course on Ji-Fung 19 years ago? Yet I had.