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How to Avoid Getting Sick while Traveling: • Paul Michelson You're asking me? It's a dangerous world out there ...

Most of us know the drill: if you’re traveling to a place where food safety’s an issue, you stick to the rules: don’t eat uncooked or unpeeled produce, don’t drink tap water, don’t use ice made from tap water, don’t eat something that’s been sitting out all day. And so on. 

I know all those things. I’ve known them for for ages. So why do I get sick?

Maybe it’s just that I’m a bit dim, but I like to think my problem’s more a lack of discipline than a lack of brains. Whatever the reason, it’s been going on awhile.

For starters, decades ago when I was traveling in Mexico, I stopped for a few days in Zihuatanejo, a town that’s now a tourist magnet on Mexico’s west coast. When I was there, it wasn’t like that; it was pretty much a fishing village. I spent lazy days swimming, body surfing, and baking in the sun.

My five dollar a day room had a deck over the water. I wasn’t a big drinker, but one evening, happy and relaxed, I bought a miniature bottle of vodka and some grape juice, mixed them, and sat on the deck sipping the drink and looking out at the bay.

It was showtime out there: Pelicans, huge birds, would circle high up for a while, then suddenly plunge to the water, hit it with a splash, and moments later pop up with a fish.

Eventually I got hungry, so I wobbled to a store across the road and bought some raisins. I came back, drank my drink, munched raisins, and watched the pelicans some more. I’m not sure why I picked raisins. Maybe because they were dry and shriveled they didn’t seem like fruit with peels. Woozy from vodka and dazzled by the bird show, I probably wasn’t thinking real well.

Pretty soon an intestinal bug hit, and it didn’t stop. It was ugly. I cut short my travels and made it home to Seattle, but it took a month and some powerful medicine before I was rid of the bug.

That was the worst episode, but there were others.

When I got married, my wife Mardena and I traveled a couple times in Southeast Asia. One afternoon in Luang Prabang, Laos, we stopped at a street stand for a plate of noodles. A chunky, well dressed Laotian man took a seat at our counter, directly across from us, not two feet away. There were empty tables all over the place. He seemed totally indifferent to us, never looking our way, riveted to his phone from the moment he sat.

It was a little perplexing, not to mention disconcerting. Maybe we could have moved, but it would have felt pretty awkward.

Our noodles came topped with bean sprouts. Crowded and uncomfortable, distracted by the guy, I ate mindlessly. By the time Mardena reminded me about the sprouts, notorious for food poisoning, I’d already taken a couple bites. The messy upshot set us back two days.

Then there was the time in Sukhothai, Thailand, that I put ice in my juice at breakfast. I’d gone for a run at seven that morning in weather that even at that hour was warm and humid. I got dehydrated. I knew about ice, but thirsty and brain-addled by heat, I forgot. Mardena might have said something, but if she did it was too late. We lost only a day of travel that time.

I could go on, but the pattern’s probably clear. I wouldn’t blame anyone for wondering at this point, “Doesn’t this guy ever learn”?

It’s puzzling to me, too, but I can trot out a couple of excuses. First, I’m not in the habit of eating on high alert. Meals for me aren’t a time to think, they’re a time to enjoy. At home, when something tastes good, I’ll likely toddle back for more. There the consequences are minimal. At worst I’ll feel a little full an hour later.

Then, too, I have to wonder if adventurous … okay, risky … eating might be mostly a male trait. It’s no secret that men are more likely to take risks than women. When my son Max and his wife Hanna are in Mexico, Hanna says Max eats everything on his plate. He mentioned once that he likes to immerse himself in the places he travels to. That probably includes eating like the local people eat. But it costs him: He usually gets sick at least once.

To be fair, Mardena got sick one time, too, in Spain, but only that once and the cause was hard to pinpoint.

I was hoping that about here I could impart some painfully-earned wisdom, specific advice that could help other travelers. But looking back, all I can come up with are a bunch of hazy generalizations: things like, pay attention; think; don’t be distracted. Pretty lame.

Maybe I’ll just say that while knowing the rules is easy, applying them in the moment, keeping them in mind when you’re on the road, out of your element, more attuned to what’s happening around you than what’s on your plate, isn’t so easy.

You could always avoid places where food illnesses are more common, usually warm weather places, but a lot of us don’t want to limit ourselves like that. Or you can travel with tours and cruises where most meals are provided. A lot of us don’t want to do that, either.

Last resort, you can make sure any risks you take are calculated. Eat super carefully, for instance, beginning two or three days before you fly home. Needless to say you don’t want to be sick on a plane. Up there, with all that motion, stomach and intestinal issues can be twice as miserable, not to mention that if a restroom isn’t free when you need one, that flight could get mighty embarrassing.  

© Paul Michelson June 2025
Paul lives and works in Seattle.

Travel Essentials:
Travel Insurance. Immodium. Passport (with a minimum six months validity) · Adapter Plugs · Underwear · Socks · Portable Phone Charger · PJs · Waterproofs · Walking shoes . Paracetamol . Mini travel shampoo . Mosquito repellant. Avoid ice cubes!

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