Landed on a tropical island: I'm up to here!

I now really doubt whether I did the right thing… Here I am, up to my neck in the sand. It's hot, very hot and my nose is itchy. As long as it's worth it... but I don't know yet... time will tell...

Only in exceptional cases do I ask a doctor for advice. But my feet, swollen to enormous proportions, tell me it's time for a doctor's visit. Somi suggests going to a good pharmacist who would do acupuncture “on the side”.

Great plan, so off we go. To the pharmacist, a young man with kind eyes who looks happily at the world through greasy glasses. There we find out that he does not do acupuncture, but he is also a chiropractor in addition to being a pharmacist. Of course he would like to take a look at my tense feet and his advice immediately follows; I have to go straight to Poo, the herbal massage parlor just down the street.

Okay, I'm going right away. Poo is run by Wi, who, after a look at the feet, puts me in a chair and starts boiling water. Pffffff and it's already so hot. My feet come one by one in a hot bath and are lightly massaged. Great, I'll keep that up for a while.

Then I have to go inside, because it turns out, the warm foot bath is just the beginning. Because, says Wiiii, the bones in my back are crooked and that's why things don't flow properly. So after the herbal body massage she will give me, she will also crack the bones. With a squeaky voice I explain to her that I don't like the creaking of those bones and that massaging my legs is often very painful.

In the meantime I wonder what that naturopath in the Netherlands has done, because I have already had my bones straightened there for a hefty fee ... and he also gave a guarantee ...). But Wiiii, knows how to convince me, so I go flat on the ground and surrender. Wiii, doesn't hurt me, it's even pleasant and I survived the cracking of the bones.

After the treatment I have to go back to the chiro-pharmacist IMMEDIATELY, no no not tomorrow, because he could sense from my heartbeat whether and which herbs my body needs, so he is also a homeopath. And, she tells me, my legs have to be buried in the sand every day, because the sand has a detoxifying effect. Well, well, I didn't know I was in this bad shape.

Quickly visit that doctor again before it is too late..... I look from the street through the glass front into the brightly lit pharmacy. In the middle of the store in the aisle there is a suntanned tattooed big bald man on the floor, the pharmacist is on his knees next to it and performs actions. Very carefully I open the door, timidly ask if I can come in and if it is still open. Yes, I can come in and wait my turn on the plastic stool next to the bald head. Ooooh what have I started.

After the ground treatment, the treated patient sits on a wooden stool at the counter. The chiro-apo-homeopath gets folders full of small bottles that he displays on the counter, between the Strepsils and the Durex. He turns to the back wall and makes a deep wai and looks like he's saying a little prayer. He takes the pulse of the patient (who is blind and German, as I've since learned) in his right hand and with his left hand hovers over the hundreds of little vials and picks out what he needs.

After this ritual, the private state and mental state are clearly audibly discussed in English for everyone, interrupted by a whirling in drunk tourist who needs medication for a sore throat and a rather rowdy Thai customer. Then it's my turn. I shift uncomfortably on the wooden stool when the chiro-apo-homeopath lets my pulse radiate into him. I see the man with closed eyes that could see through greasy glasses, calmly and confidently choose my medication.

After a few minutes he is ready and gives me the pills that will restore my inner energy and all the ailments that result from it. With a daily tablet for under the tongue I will be as good as new in a week, hopefully with slender feet too, and ready for the rest of my life. So the next day I decide to go for it. Nothing stubborn and I decide to take all the advice of Wiiii and the chiro-apo-homeopath to heart. You know what. I'm going to add a little more to it!!

I go to the beach and get buried up to my neck. Of course I had to do some magic first about the detoxifying powers of the sand. And guess what? In the Sahara, hordes of spoiled tourists are buried up to their necks to detox. Look, that's detoxing again.... not just shitty burying the legs... no then hopsakee the whole body under the sand!! Another additional advantage seems to me that soon not only my fat feet will be thin again ... but my whole body!

And so I'm lying here, pffffffff hot and stuffy up to my neck in the sand.

Didn't I tell the chick clearly on which beach to come and dig me out?