Mind the spit! 

People, who know me well, will agree…me and bodily functions don’t get along to well. Yes, not only does it mean that I wouldn’t want to have them over for tea and discuss world politics (yuck) but it is the talking about them that does it; sends shivers down my spine. Or seeing any (god forbid) or hearing about it. It is what happens to other people. 


I don’t talk about bowl movements (oh wait I just did! – besides this) or condom flavours and the thought of squatting in the bush or the pushing out of a baby (the miracle of the birth they call it) leaves me crippled with fear and literally makes me nauseous. Which I tell you, is uncomfortable for someone who would never be caught throwing up in public – unless during the rugby world cup and there were too many shooters drunk and it only happened once! 


So you get it right? Just like I tell myself beef is made clean and fully wrapped, and does not come from a brown eyed cow with long luscious lashes  named Daisy, so I have deceived myself into believing that bodily functions, happen to other people – in the private of their homes – and as far away from me as possible. 


As unrealistic (and somewhat disturbed) this denial is, I packed it up into my suitcase and left for China, Asia. I can hear you laughing. It is okay; get it out of your system. Asia, bodily function issues hahahahahaha. Go ahead! I didn’t say it was rational thinking. 


I stepped off the plane in Chengdu and followed the crowds onto the tarmac on the way through those arrival doors when I heard, from in front of me, a growl. A long phlegm growl which was followed by a spitting noise. I followed it to a man three people in front as he wiped is mouth and carried on walking. I cringed as all my judgemental western words came into my head…Uncultured (the guy was wearing a very quality suite I might add, very cultured), uncouth, rude! 


I walked passed the scene of the crime and kept my eyes down looking for stray “shrapnel”. And for the next two days, I started to hear all the growls and spits around the city, and I caught on that this was not a one off occurrence. I began to watch the pavement as we walked the cobbled streets of old town, or walked through gardens and bright coloured temples. I walked with my head down. 


A funny thing started to happen. I got less shocked with every leftover I saw. And surprisingly there weren’t too many, perhaps if I had looked up I would have noticed a lot of those spits where done into bins and bushes.  I also realised I was totally bored with looking at spit. 


So I started to look up from time to time. A starbucks here, a clothing store there. Oooo pretty lights, some people practising ti-chi in the park. A toasted duck in the window – ok not so pretty. A cute dog, groomed with pretty shoes on. And then it hit me! Like a ton of bricks or like a spit wad hitting the pavement! For three weeks I had chosen to look at spit instead of the city I was here to explore!  


As I slowly come to terms with my bodily function “issue” by googling birthing info and looking at Dr Phil’s website, I have decided to put the fear of phlegm behind me (well unless the wind changes and I get caught in the cross fire, because then, my friends, I will be teaching Chengdu an array of English and Afrikaans  swearwords).  And as Shrek will tell you, “Rather out than in I always say!”…


Mind the spit? Na, not too much!