The day that Princess Diana died I went to a Filipino picnic in Toronto to celebrate the first birthday of the son of an acquaintance of mine. The kid, Xavier, was just a little drooly thing who had no idea what it was all about, but everyone else was keen for a party, Philippines style. I was the only white person there, which didn't bother me at all, as I have spent substantial periods of my life surrounded by people of other skin hues speaking languages I don't understand. What did unsettle me was the pig. I've since discovered that a whole pig is de rigueur at a Filipino picnic or celebration of any sort, and this one was no exception. The pig had been cooking all night in preparation for this shindig.
Pride of place on the main table was yielded to the carcass of the barbecued pig itself, head (no fruit in mouth, disappointingly), feet, and tail prominently displayed in case we might think they had skimped and only served half, or three quarters of a pig. You could carve a hunk of roast pork off this baby, and then choose from a host of pig-related items as accompaniments: pork crackling salad, pork slices, pork fat, cracked pig leg bones filled with marrow...It was a pig fest, for sure. Lucky thing I'm not a vegetarian.
I've got a strong stomach, but an hour or so after polishing off my second plate of pig-related food items I started to feel a bit bloated. I just thought I ate too much. But by the evening I was feeling very strange indeed, feverish and dizzy. Unable to do much, I turned on the TV, and all that was on was Di Di Di, on every channel. I lay shivering on the bed and stupidly watched the coverage, bolting to the bathroom frequently while I ate bananas and drank tea to try and calm my stomach. Luckily this was a very mild bout of pork poisoning, and by the time the news stories wound up to repeat their babble for the fifth time, I was feeling much better.
Though not as dramatic as the time I repeatedly projectile vomitted all over the train tracks in Bangkok, or the time in Chiang Mai that I evacuated so much that my shit was totally clear and odourless, this experience was nonetheless memorable. Now, the death of Diana, the barbecuing of a whole pig, and food poisoning are inextricably intertwined in my mind.