Doctors Make the Worst Patients

One element of our weekend included a tour of the Festival of Nations, where people representing dozens and dozens of countries set up bazaars, sell traditional food, dance, etc. in Tower Grove Park. I absolutely love learning about different cultures. We met a woman from Iraq who wrote our names in Arabic, another from Russia, and a third from Japan. We saw dancing, tasted food, saw different traditional crafts, and explored all that the festival had to offer.

My personal favorite was the dancing. I saw Polynesian, Filipino, and West African:



James was thrilled about his name being written in Japanese, and petting the animals at the international petting zoo.

Emma enjoyed getting her hair braided by a beautiful woman from Senegal:

and learning how to make German bobbin lace:

 As for Andrew . . . well, looks like he is allergic to Burma. Yep. The day after the festival, were worried the itchy bumps that began to spread all over his body looked a lot like bed bugs, and he decided that if I woke up this morning with the same symptoms, it had to be so. Lucky for me, that didn't pan out (phew!). After refusing Benadryl cream and a consult from my allergist uncle (who happened to be at my grandma's during a video chat last night), I got a text from Andrew today saying the doctors working with him in the radiology department had him sent down to the ER:

It must have been something in the Burmese food we ate. Sorry, Andrew :( Thankfully, he is on the mend.