I wake up for the first time at 1 a.m., urgently needing to relieve myself. I quickly get out of the sleeping bag, throw on my green sweatpants, and dash into the cold, dark night to find a spot away from the tents.
I can’t lie back down for long. Camping, cold, and diarrhea make for a toxic combination - it’s exhausting.
On my third trip to the bathroom, Martin rushes out of the tent and behind a bush as well. So, it has hit him too. He tells me it’s only his second time, and luckily, that’s where it ends for him. I think to myself, “All good things come in threes,” and optimistically hope this will be my last trip.
Not a chance! It’s certainly not a good thing. I end up dashing to the bushes a total of six times that night! Apparently, all bad things come in multiples of three. The reason becomes clear the next morning: after being served tap water at a restaurant in Mostar without any issues, we assumed the hostel’s tap water would be safe too. We were quite naïve.
In any case, the night wasn’t restful. However, we are rewarded with a beautiful sunrise, complete with fog.
