Malarone

On the fourth day of my five-and-a-half-day journey up the Amazon River, I popped my first Malarone tablet. Most of the Amazonian basin, starting just inland from Belém, is a malarial zone. We entered this zone on our second day cruising upriver, but the riverboats move fast, and far away enough from the shorelines, so mosquitoes aren't a problem while aboard ship. However, on that Saturday, we were only a day from docking in Manaus, and I was two days from heading right into the jungle.

I had a certain trepidation with regards to taking Malarone. In speaking to friends, and fellow travellers, with experience taking anti-malarials, I'd compiled a plethora of side-effect horror stories -- stuff that almost made my hair curl. Brian talked about one guy in Africa breaking out in blisters because the anti-malarial the guy was on made him hypersensitive to sunburn.

Malarone is supposed to be the "good" stuff -- the most expensive anti-malarial, with the least amount of side-effects -- but I was still receiving reports of weird dreams, stomach issues, trouble sleeping, vomiting; and, in rare cases, anaphylaxis (a severe allergic reaction).

But I took the drugs anyway -- a full course of fourteen daily pills.

I only got one side-effect from the drugs: the really trippy dreams.

On awaking from that first night on Malarone, I immediately grabbed my journal and jotted down all the stuff I could remember (names have been removed to protect the innocent from the drug-addled mechanisations of my subconscious; I'm only giving certain information on how I know these people, to illustrate how random everything was):

"(Female friend from university), on a research vessel, which morphed into a Hong Kong junk, then running away on a solstice rendezvous with (a guy I met in a hostel in Brazil). Then, KGV (my secondary school back in Hong Kong) reunion in Malaysia, trying to sneak into a charity casino. All the casino employees were dressed up like giant playing cards -- (a school friend from Singapore) was one of the employees. Found myself trying to book a bed at a hostel in Cairns before being informed that the hostel really was an overnight train to Chicago. Started thinking about sleeping in (my friend's) Mini, which was in a parking lot in Bhutan. Then back at the reunion in Malaysia, examining rough tattoos outlines on the legs of (some of my high school chums). Then, London, walking around a convenience store in one of the Tube stations, being jostled around by queues of people lining up to purchase bottles of hot sauce with their Oyster cards."

Now, I've never been on psychedelic mushrooms, but I have to imagine those dreams are a good approximation of the experience. I went to sleep the next night actually looking forward to seeing what type of shit my mind could come up with next. But that first night was it. No more dreams. In fact, I had no further side-effects from the Malarone. At all.

Pity.

But I see that the consumption of Psilocybin is legal in the Czech Republic and the British Virgin Islands.

Malarone: Prevents Malaria AND is a Gateway Drug!

(Photo stolen from catchsafaris.com)

Related Entries:
1. The Long, Slow Boat Ride up the Amazon
2. The Amazon Jungle
3. Goodbye to the Jungle

(Mom: I'm kidding about taking magic mushrooms in the future. Maybe. Sort of.)