The interviews went okay - my interpreter was really nice and put up with my nervousness, especially when it turned out that the first set of interviews was three people, in a group, which was slightly overwhelming. When you word questions badly, it's painfully apparent when three people - and your interpreter - look at you quizzically as you desperately, artlessly try to rephrase.
I got my first 4 interviews out of the way, which isn't so bad when I'm gunning for a sample of 32 people. Granted, it's going to be tricky finding 28 more people to interview, but I'm not going to panic about that until mid-September. For now, I'm going to concentrate on the fact that the nausea I chalked up to nerves hasn't gone anywhere, and I'm beginning to suspect that it's tied to the odd grinding feeling and sharp pains that I've got in my stomach. The fact that I got away with drinking tap water and eating fruit from the back of carts for two weeks was probably impressive, but I have a sinking feeling that this is going to be a puke-till-your-neighbors-hate-you type of evening.
UPDATE: I kept down dinner, except I've broken out in a sweat and full-body aches. Because sitting upright is starting to hurt my back, I think I'm going to go lie down, finish I Am Charlotte Simmons, and feel sorry for myself. (I was going to watch the first half of Friends With Money before I went to bed, but the thought of balancing a hot laptop and sitting jackknifed on my bed makes me queasy. And possibly sterile.)
UPDATE: I survived! I seem to remember waking up a few times in the middle of the night and might have been delirious, but it was a fleeting delirium. And no puking yet. This is obviously a sign that I should keep eating fried bananas from street vendors and oily lunches that have been sitting out on a counter all morning.