My Stomach Hurts like Hell. Now What?Stomach ailments are kind of an occupational hazard. Tums, Rolaids, etc., do me no good. I need something else, something more.
In LAX earlier this year, waiting for a flight to Taiwan, I was sitting in a long row about four seats from another guy, about my age, like me, dressed all in black (as old guys do). On the loudspeaker, someone announced something like “Sveltlana Kornisky, please report to gate 10. Your Aeroflot flight blah-blah to Kiev is leaving.” This message was repeated about seven times, at which point I looked over to the guy, and his look reflected mine, I’m sure, and we were both thinking, I know, “Can you believe this Russian nitwit is going to miss her flight?” We both smiled.
Turned out, we were seated next to one another on the flight to Taipei. When he saw me order a Taiwanese beer, he started telling me how he was from Taiwan, but now he’s a rich guy in Texas. He goes to visit his mom in Taiwan a few times a year, hitting the night markets specifically for stinky tofu, which I evinced a keen interest in trying.
“Here,” he said, handing me a small long box with Chinese characters on it. “I take these with me whenever I visit Taiwan. You’ll need them.”
What he gave me was Po Chai (pronounced Poe-Che), a stomach remedy from Hong Kong, no longer available in Taiwan (I’m guessing after the Hong Kong handover to PRC, relations between Hong Kong and Taiwan got chilly fast).
I used them in Taiwan; they worked; a few months later, I bought a box – a beautifully designed box – in Hong Kong. Under $10. An incredible bargain, based on packaging alone.

Last month in Mexico, something bad inhabited me. Just for one day, as it turned out, but I was having a rough night and an uncertain morning. Over about eight hours, I took almost a full box of Po Chai (the cigarette-sized box in the pic above contains ten smaller boxes, each containing something like 100 very small pills).
When I arrived at the cooking class I was scheduled to take at Chiles and Chocolate, a cool little catering service cum café in Huatulco, I was messed up. I told my hosts, Jane and Alfredo Patiño, what was up and going down; they had an armamentarium of home remedies (it’s Mexico).
Alfredo made me a tea of guaco, a vine, from which one can make a tea or simply throw in mezcal. This is an old folk remedy.

Jane fed me a teaspoon of aloe goo, cut out of the cactus spike (I did not know that was in there). She warned me it would taste terrible. I slammed it back, so I’m not sure what it tasted like. Also an old folk remedy.


Upshot: no upchuck. By noon, lunch; by dinner, mezcal.
What do you take when your tummy is in tumult?
"Don't you ever underestimate the power of a female." Bootsy Collins