I’m back in the real world, and I’m slowly re-learning a few things. People of the real world don’t talk about their poo all the time. People of the real world tend to keep their bodily functions to themselves.

In fact, they look at you in a rather strangely as you snort with joy, glorifying “that” scene in Bridesmaids with how it reminds you of that time in Guatemala the bus screamed to a stop so that American girl could drop her guts in the middle of the highway. And ha! What about the time I pooed so much carrot was the only thing coming out, even though I couldn’t remember the last time I even ate a carrot? That was a fun day in hospital. And then there was that bloke we met and his ultimate Dehli belly story…Good times, good times.

”***”

People of the real world may talk about gluten intolerance, and how it makes them “really sick” but when they’re getting to the good bit - you know, the gory details - they stop. They draw the line. They don’t talk about colour, consistency, frequency. They don’t talk about self-medicating, which slipped-over-the-counter antibotics work best, the fine balance between halting the stream with Gastrostop and not taking a dump for five days. They don’t return from the dunny crowing over the first solid floater in three months.

So yet another reminder of a year on the road gets packed away in the cupboard. Along with my passport, pack, sleeping bag liner - there goes my gastro first aid kit. And my acceptance of poo as a conversation filler shall be tidily placed on the shelf until the time has come to travel again. Transitioning from traveller to person of the real world, step-by-step.