Of food poisoning and golf balls

This weekend, I've been down with a bout of food poisoning. Not cool at all. The suspect? A tiny piece of raw king fish I had for lunch yesterday at a little Japanese Cafe in Chinatown. How does one tiny piece of fish cause me so much pain and grieve?

Backtracking little...I've been taught that life is about causes and effects. So, I was going to meet H in the city for lunch. But the yam char place we intended to patronized was closed. We stood there for about a mere minute at the entrance of the restaurant when objects that looked like...golf balls started falling from the sky! Not kidding. It was freaky (like the 'cloudy with a chance of meatballs' movie) Everyone started running for shelter. Upon closer inspection, the golf balls were actually abnormally huge pieces of ice. It was hailing. Then without any warning, the sky got really angry. I haven't seen Melbourne hit by rain so hard before.

We waited under the shelter for about 30 minutes till the rain subsided a little and then we quickly ran to the nearest eatery which was that dodgy Jap cafe. So really, the real culprit was the golf balls falling from the sky. Had it not hailed, I wouldn't have risked my tummy in that questionable cafe.

And just before, I cooked myself a nice piece of Wagyu steak. It was the most delicious thing I've cooked in a while. The meat was lined with fat that melts in your mouth. So good! I was in euphoria....for about 5 minutes till I instinctively ran to the bin. I could feel my stomach churning.

"Don't puke. Its a good piece of EXPENSIVE steak! Don't puke. Don't puke! You'll need to cook lunch again!" I kept telling myself over and over again.

Let's just say my meditation did not work. I'll keep the gross details to myself.




At Flinders Street Station


Fancy a swim?

Source of pics