BUCHINGER DIARIES – DAY SEVEN
23 Jul 2011
— Buchinger, Buchinger am Bodensee, Buchinger Clinic, Buchinger Klinik, Fasting diet, Francoise de Wilhelmi, Otto Buchinger, Uberlingen
BUCHINGER DIARIES – DAY 7
It’s official I am losing my mind. Sunday morning and the sun is shining, Annie Lennox is singing about ‘diving into your ocean and talking like lover’s do’ and long, tall Stephanie is looming over me, asking me to hold it in, while holding a warm water bag at the right angle. I close my eyes, maybe this is happening to someone else. Stomach starts gurgling and rumbling. Oh God it is me, I am here and there is a tall, blond woman standing over me asking me intimate details about bowel movements. Oh God there are two more weeks of this. Suddenly I remember, my brother-in-law sending me escape plans via twitter. FUCK AND DOUBLE FUCK. There is no wi-fi in the room.
Stephanie finally leaves to ‘Love Is A Many Splendored Thing’. Yes, I am losing my ever loving mind but wait…hey is that my reflection in the mirror… I can fit into my bikini. Um…sweet Stephanie when are you coming back??
I saunter down to reception admiring my new silhouette in every piece of reflective glass between the first floor and the front door. I suddenly realise that I have spent a week thinking and focusing on one subject – me. Inside and out. I need to get out. Rosa (guest relations) smiles at me, huh little does she know, I am leaving and never coming back to this hell hole. Do you have a map? I ask innocently. Of course Mrssss Mooouuunaaayeeerrr – no one can pronounce the name and it it’s beginning to really irritate me.
Have map, have Euros will escape.
Half way down the street, I realise the map is in German – well Mrssss Mouuunnaaayeeerrrr you can figure it out. Left, right, left and oh look there’s – the BAD HOTEL – really that’s what it says on the big sign outside. In fact as I circumnavigate the building it has BAD HOTEL written on every surface, proudly. Ok that’s cool, the owners obviously don’t cater to the English speaking public. Suddenly, a bride comes out of the BAD HOTEL entrance. Wearing some kind of dark grey layered chiffon Grecian style dress with a white veil and black platform shoes. Ok the BAD HOTEL caters to brides with BAD taste – that makes sense. Surreal but hey I’m looking forward to my next meeting with Stephanie – so what do I know.
Feeling better I continue my escape. Down the street turn the corner and oh…look at that…a forest track leading to an ancient tower and a lake beyond with fluffy clouds and dappled sunshine. I think I’ll sit awhile and admire the view. Ok Mrs Mounayer get up your leg’s tingling, luckily the hell hole is not far away and oh there’s smiling Rosa and hey they’ve got soup in my room. Maybe I’ll stay awhile longer.
OVER & OUT