Salmonella in San Cristobal: A Pesto Nightmare

I never thought a jar of homemade pesto would teach me to fear food. Salmonella is real, trust me. I didn’t question the disease’s legitimacy, but I was detached from it, like I am from many others. When I decided to go to San Cristobal de Las Casas, Chiapas, I knew feeding myself wouldn’t be a problem. No spending time in the kitchen with complex dishes or fancy in-house dinners. One objective: write. Basic breakfasts like eggs or cereal, and lunching and dining out. A $3 quesadilla stuffed with 200 grams of pulled pork for lunch let me be this lavish.

After three weeks, I gained 12 pounds, which made me rethink my eating habits. Twelve pounds heavier, I swapped greasy street food for “healthy” stuff, including homemade pesto and low-carb pasta. Big mistake—the pesto was contaminated. It sent me to the toilet for two straight days. I’m not exaggerating: I had to drink water on the toilet because seconds after you drink, it goes straight out. Fearing dehydration, I stuck to electrolytes. With a couple of accidents during my sleep, there was no way to get antibiotics because there were no emergency care near by during the weekend. 

Lesson learned: if you want to write without sprinting to the bathroom, skip the off-the-counter homemade pesto and stick to restaurants. San Cristobal’s charm doesn’t extend to every jar of green sauce.