No matter where you are in the world, the morning after a night of celebration feels remarkably the same. The heavy head, the dry mouth, the uneasy stomach, and that vague sense of regret - together they make up one of the oldest and most relatable human experiences: the hangover. But how different cultures respond to this shared misery tells us more about humanity than any scientific explanation ever could. Beyond the Bloody Mary: Ten Unexpected Hangover Cures from Around the World is a witty, enlightening journey through the world's strangest, most comforting, and occasionally stomach-turning remedies for the aftermath of indulgence. While the Western world swears by the Bloody Mary - that spicy, tomato-laced cocktail of vodka and self-deception - author Tamsin Haleshenk ventures further afield to uncover the curious rituals other nations swear by when facing the consequences of a good night out. In Scotland, recovery begins with a can of Irn-Bru, the neon-orange soda adored by generations, its mysterious mix of sweetness and fizz acting as both hydration and nostalgia. Korea answers with haejangguk, literally "soup to chase a hangover," a bubbling bowl of cabbage, sprouts, and ox blood that restores warmth and dignity in equal measure. Peru jolts the senses awake with leche de tigre, or "tiger's milk" - the sharp, citrusy liquid leftover from ceviche that's said to revive even the most regretful souls. Travel further east to Japan, where miso soup provides a lesson in balance and calm, the umami-rich broth soothing the stomach and spirit. Meanwhile, the traditions get wilder in Mongolia, where a hangover cure once involved floating sheep eyeballs in tomato juice - a bracing visual reminder to pace oneself next time. In ancient Rome, the eccentric upper classes opted for fried canary, proving that excess was not limited to the banquet table. Some cures offer more comfort than shock. Canada's answer is poutine - a glorious heap of fries, cheese curds, and gravy that satisfies body and soul. Germany's traditional rollmops - pickled herring wrapped around onions or gherkins - bring sharp, salty relief to a parched system. Ireland keeps things simple with buttered toast and hot tea, a humble nod to the restorative power of plainness. And finally, in the United States, salvation is found in the classic greasy spoon breakfast, a mountain of bacon, eggs, and coffee served with quiet defiance against the morning's pain. Through each chapter, Haleshenk weaves together anthropology, history, and humour to reveal that hangovers are not just physical conditions but reflections of who we are. Each "cure" carries the fingerprints of its culture - its values, comforts, and coping mechanisms. Whether it's the bracing acidity of South America, the salty broths of Asia, or the carb-heavy comfort food of the West, these rituals remind us that recovery is as much about belonging as it is about biology. There's also an emotional truth running through every tradition: hangover cures are not only about healing the body but also the spirit. The ritual of preparing soup, sharing a meal, or reaching for a familiar flavour becomes a small act of forgiveness - a way to reconcile with one's excesses and return, gently, to the rhythm of everyday life. In Korea, friends gather over haejangguk not to nurse their pain in silence, but to laugh, reminisce, and continue the bond from the night before. In Ireland or Scotland, the remedy may be solitary - a quiet breakfast and a cup of tea, offering reflection and calm.