Medical Mayhem

Visiting the doctor, in a country you are not familiar with, is always a bit of a challenge.  If you don't speak or read the language, it becomes a bit more so.  But you can't avoid the doctor's office forever (well, maybe you can, but if you know me, you know I can't).  So, you just have to take a deep breath, muster all of your courage, and realize that mistakes will be made, misunderstandings will happen and, at least once, you will embarrass yourself.  It's all temporary and you will be able to laugh about it all.  Eventually.

I can laugh about it now, so I think it is time to recount the story of the first time I visited the specialists' office here in the Czech Republic.  Which is a much different than just seeing the doctor.

Seeing the doctor (ENT, allergist, pediatrician, GP etc) is pretty straight forward.  It involves calling Canadian Medical Center, pushing 2 for an English speaking receptionist and making an appointment.  The day of the appointment, you go to their offices, speak to the English speaking receptionist, get shown to the doctors office (yep, you see the doctor in their office) by an English speaking nurse, and then spend 10-15 minutes talking, in English, to the doctor about why you are there.  All very easy.  All very English.  I have done this various times in the year I have been in Prague. But then I was referred to a specialist.  Which meant navigating the hospital because most of the specialists offices are in the hospital that they have privileges.  It means dealing with all of the hallways and paperwork and offices, all without the aid of English speakers.

I had my paperwork with all of it's appropriate stamps (the Czech's love them some stamps) because without that I wouldn't be able to even get in the front door.

The only thing I could read on it was the date and time I was to be at the hospital.  I was also given a map on how to get to said hospital, with instructions to go to the International Patients department on the 5th floor.  Sounds easy enough but understanding that would prove to be all that was easy about the process.

I get to the hospital and realize, it is HUGE.  And I have no idea where I should even park.  I take a deep breath, drive up to the gate and show the guard my paperwork.  He speaks in rapid fire Czech and, when he sees my slack jaw and glazed eyes, he simply points to the left.  So, I go left.  And am almost instantly confronted with no fewer than 3 different roads I could take.  Another deep breath, and I choose one of the middle ones and find a parking space.

Mustering my courage, I head in the direction of the big, giant building in front of me, thinking that it can't be that hard to find the 5th floor.  And once I find it, I can just wander around until I find the International Patients sign.  How naive of me...

I find an entrance.  Any entrance will do, as I have no idea where I am, or am supposed to be.  First try, I end up in a building with nothing but small, closed doors lining a square hall.  And no 5th floor.  Strike one.  I go back out, thinking I am very glad that I got there an hour before my appointment.  Next building, more closed doors, but this time there is a 5th floor.  I go all the way up and see...nothing.  I found the 5th floor, but it is big and empty and only has one entrance and exit and I am standing in it.  Strike two.  Back outside again, I seriously consider calling someone who can help me, but I have no idea who that would be.  While I am running through a list of people I know that speak both Czech and English, I stumble upon what looks like the main entrance.

Jackpot.

But not so fast.

I am greeted with a bunch of signs that are all a different color and each list a large selection of specialties, departments and pharmacies.  Thankfully, many of the specialties have a very similar spelling in Czech and I finally find Gastroenterologie (where I was headed).  I now knew that it was on the 7th floor.  But that didn't really help, as I still had to get to the 5th floor to register before I could go see my doctor.

This yellow sign had a 5th floor, it had recepce on it (though not international - which is mezinárodní) and I didn't have any better ideas, so yellow it was.  But what did that mean?

At least this part was seemed easy - each of the signs had a corresponding colored bank of elevators and a line leading from the sign to said elevator bank.  I followed the line for yellow, stepped on and pushed the 5th floor.  And thankfully, when I got off, I was greeted by this...

It's a bit hard to read but it says, in the only English I saw all day, Foreigners Reception and Department of Commercial Services.  It had only taken me 35 minutes to get here!  Inside there was a wonderful lady who spoke perfect English and she registered me for my appointment and handed me a stack of papers, with many more stamps, to take to my appointment.  And then she started me on the longest journey I have ever taken to a simple appointment.

She instructed me to follow the green line on the floor.  I was to take the green elevator down to the 1st floor and go to room 147.  I nodded my understanding, took a deep breath, and followed the green line...

And kept following it around and through hallways, through the hospital portion, past surgery and back to the elevators, so that I could get to the first floor.

Long, but simple enough.  I kept following the green line to room 147, rang the little doorbell and when it was answered spouted what I always start with, "Dobrý den.  Nemluvím česky."  Which is simply, "Good Day.  I don't speak czech."  It doesn't usually stop the stream of Czech that comes next, but at least I have stated my case.  In this instance, it got a laugh and the woman that took my paperwork handed it off to someone who spoke English.  

At least this is what I assume because she closed the door on me and left me standing there, with no paperwork, trying to figure out what came next.   Did I wait?  Was I supposed to come in?  Would she ever come back out?  Was I supposed to just know where to go next?   I stood there for about 5 minutes, wondering how long I should wait before heading back up to the 5th floor, and the one person that spoke English, to ask what was happening.  Finally, the door opened and a gentleman handed me my papers and said in broken English - Yellow line, 4th floor, Room 723.

By now I was a pro at following the lines on the floor around to the elevators.  Full of confidence I had no business having and an I got this attitude, I pushed 4 and got off to see this...

And all of that attitude and confidence slowly left my body, leaving me slightly deflated.  What this picture doesn't show is that the hallway these doors lead to is under construction with no way of passing through.   And it is the only way you can go.  I was at a loss.  I was told to be on this floor, at this elevator, but couldn't get anywhere because of the construction.  Again, I stood for a minute assessing my options.   And just as I made the decision to go through the hallway anyway - even though it was under construction and you could hear the jack hammers working and it was a really bad idea - a woman passed through on the staircase. Hoping against hope I stopped her and asked, "Mluvíte Anglicky?" (Do you speak English?).  She did.  She said that I would have to go up a floor, follow the green line, go back down a floor at the staircase and then follow directions to the room I was given.  Easy as pie, right?  By now, you should know that this is not the end.

Her directions were perfect and I get to the Gastro department...

And I start looking for room 723.  After walking around for awhile, I realize that even though the numbers are going in the right direction, they all start with 4.  And it makes sense, we are on the 4th floor.  It finally dawns on me that I will never find 723, at least not on this floor.  So, deep breath in and out, and I get in line for the receptionist knowing full well that she will not speak more than 3 words of English and we will be playing Charades.  My turn and I somehow explain that I am seeing Dr. Spačil, room 723.  And she somehow makes me understand that I need to take the green line to the 7th floor.  That makes sense, so I do as told.  Again.

This time I find room 723, but Dr.  Spačil is not one of the names on the door.

Oh well, I knock anyway.  And no one answers.  I knock again.  No answer.  Deep breath, off to the reception desk to play Charades again.  She tells me, "Ne, Spačil čtyři patro".  And I understand but I want to cry.  She just told me that my Doctor, Spačil, is on the 4th floor.  NOOOOOOOOO.  I am not going to run in circles!  I tell her Ne and hold up a finger to tell her to wait a minute.  I begin typing furiously on my phone.  I have an app that will translate my English into Czech - and it is useful but very time consuming and most people I encounter don't know what to do with my phone when I hand it to them, so I rarely use it.  This time though, she must have understood what I wrote, or she saw it written all over my face and in my body language that I was going nowhere, because she picked up the phone and had a short conversation.  She then walked me back to room 723 and gently sat me down in a seat.  She then left.

And again, I was left to wonder if I was being put in time out for being such a problem patient, or if I was waiting for someone else to come.  Or if I should knock again, or if this was all just a bad dream.  I didn't matter to me because I was going to give them 5 more minutes and the I was leaving, and never coming back again.

Not 2 minutes later someone show up with a ring of keys and opened the door.  It was the same gentleman that had told me to go to the 4th floor, Room 723.  I was just about to tell him about how horrible his directions were and how he shouldn't be giving them without knowing exactly where he was sending people when he introduced himself...as Dr. Spačil.  He was my doctor.  HE was MUDr. Spačil.  HE was the reason I kept getting lost and given the run around.  This did not bode well. But
I guess I understand why he sent me to the wrong place.  This wasn't his normal office.  His usual office is on the 4th floor, in the Gastro department.  But because it is under construction, he is temporarily on the 7th floor.  I understand it, but I was still a bit peeved.  I almost felt like they were all playing a  game of Let's Mess with the American.

And then it was all over.  In about 5 minutes.  He handed a whole new set of papers, all with stamps of course, and told to go back to the 5th floor to International Patients to check out.   And told me I had to come back at least two more times for different appointments.   No problem.  At this point I had seen about half of the hospital and could find my way around easily.

Finally, I checked out, walked back to my car and took a few deep breaths.   I was exhausted from the effort of keeping a simple doctor appointment.  But I didn't have time to really wallow in it because it was then that I  I the whole thing had taken over 2 1/2 hours and my girls were in danger of getting out of school before I could get there.  

All in all it was an adventure.  One that I can laugh about now, but it wasn't so funny then.  It really can be hard being a stranger in a strange land sometimes.  It can be frustrating, and nerve wrecking, and time consuming.  But it does get easier.  I have been back several times since that day in January, and each time it gets a bit easier.  But every time my heart still beats a bit faster and my blood pressure goes up because I know that just because I have done it before, doesn't mean that it will be easy this time.  But so far, so good...

And then they sent me to a different hospital and it started all over again...

The Language of Liquor

There are so many new experiences to be had when you become an expat.  You learn about new cultures and customs.  You taste new foods and delicacies.  You learn to speak new languages.  And, it seems, that even my liquor cabinet is trying to teach me something new these days.  I was taking inventory a few days ago, and realized that over half of what was in my cabinet, would have been unrecognizable and unknown to me less than a year ago.  Though now I couldn't imagine not having at least one or two of these on hand at all times.  (See below for a description of each)

Black Balsam (Latvian) - A traditional Latvian herbal liquor.  It is a blend of 24 different plants, flowers, buds, juices, roots, oils, berries (and the kitchen sink- I jest) mixed into pure vodka and the recipe has been unchanged for over 250 years.  It is black as the night and bitter, but with a slightly sweet aftertaste.  It is considered to be a cure for the common cold, and for digestive problems.   Legend has it that Catherine the Great of Russia fell ill while visiting Latvia and was cured by drinking a few shots.

Hajdu - (?) Given to B by a dealer at work, I can't trace this one.  I have googled it and searched it and tried to find it in message boards and I can't find a single thing about it.  I think it is wine.  I think B brought it back from some part of Hungary. I think it is a small operation run by family or friends of the dealer.  I know that at some point we will crack it open and taste.  And probably love it and never be able to find it again.

Ouzo (Greek) - An anise flavored liquor, said to be created as part of a project by a group of 14th century monks.  It was not widely distilled until the 19th century, and did not become popular until absinthe fell out of favor, and Ouzo replaced it as the drink of choice, in the early 20th century.  Prepared in copper stills, Ouzo starts at 96 percent alcohol by volume and is basically flavored ethyl alcohol.  It is then double distilled, bringing its alcohol by volume content to about 50 percent.  Still, a pretty potent drink.  In 2006, Greece became the only place in the world that can produce authentic Ouzo

Slivovice (Moravian/Eastern Europe) -  This is simply fermented plums.  No added sugar, no added yeast, no added flavorings. At least, when it is homemade, which the best of them are. (Notice that my bottle above - behind the Ouzo and Tokaji- has no label.  It was made by a work associate of B's).  It is a national treasure here in the Czech Republic and people travel from all over the country to the Southern provinces to pick up their own stash of this home brew.  While the government has declared home distilleries illegal, probably due to the fact that if it is done incorrectly you end up with a lethal methanol and not a drinkable, sweet brandy, they do provide a local distillery in most towns.  Of course, they can also make sure they are getting their fair share of taxes this way too.

Tokaji (Hungarian) - I have written about this liquor before so I won't go into too much more detail.  This spirit, like Ouzu or Champagne, can only be produced in a certain region in the Carpathian Mountains to be labeled Tokaji.  A sweet wine, produced from only 6 approved varieties of grapes, is rated in Puttonyos.  3 is sweet.  6 is teeth rottingly so.

Becherovka (Czech Republic) - produced in Karlovy Vary, this is an herbal bitters, often drunk as a digestive.  There are only two people in the entire world that know the exact recipe for Becherovka.  Once a week, one of them enters the Drogikamer room to mix the herbs and spices used in the drink. Whatever it is that they put in there, it gives an end result of ginger and cinnamon flavor.  Usually served chilled as a shot, the Czech people also use it to cure the common cold.

The next time you are nearby, come on over for a drink.  I am sure we can introduce you to something new. Or perhaps, you can add something new to our cabinet.

Cruisin' Home

This sums up how we all felt about the end of our adventures.

Thank you E and J, for joining in the adventures and being such a great travel guides/outfit planners/compasses.  We couldn't have asked for better traveling companions.

And to B, thanks for sending your girls on such a great adventure, while you were stuck at work.  But it is only a few short weeks until our next adventure - this time ALL together.

And to my girls, the best sidekicks I could ever have asked for, I thank you for always being up for anything.  You covered a lot of ground this week (literally - over 50 miles walked) and experienced so many new things.  I hope you never lose your love of travel and adventure.  

As for me, I am just so grateful for the whole experience.  I know it is something I will never forget.

Gusty Genova

Back in Italy for our last full day, we stopped at the port in Genoa.  Thankfully, it was the day that we had the least planned because Stinkerbell woke up, but barely.  She was so tired I think she could have pulled a repeat of the Disney Cruise of 2013 and slept for 23 hours.  

Ironically, the place with the least to see and do, was the place that we were in port for the longest.  But just because we did not have a packed agenda, did not mean we had nothing to see.  After our usual breakfast, we sauntered off of the ship at a leisurely pace.  And were immediately greeted by one of the strongest winds I have ever encountered.  At times, it was a challenge to move forward, without also moving sideways.  But the skies were clear and the sun was shining, so that kind of made up for the gales of wind that tried to sweep us off of our feet.  Almost.

The first thing we encountered was Il Galeone Neptune, a replica of a 17th century pirate ship.  This particular ship was built in 1985 for the filming of Norman Polanski's Pirates and, more recently, was used to portray the Jolly Roger on the TV show Neverland.

Heading away from the port (and hopefully some of the wind) we arrived at our first stop, the Cattedrale di San Lorenzo.  Located on the square of the same name, this was the city's only public square for the whole of the Middle Ages.  The church, built in the 5th or 6th century, is still the seat of the Archbishop.

I am not sure she saw much after her initial walk around in the church.

Next up, the Pallazo Ducale.  Now a museum and space for events, including the 2001 G8 Summit, we did not get a chance to get inside since it was closed.  But we did get a few moments to hide from the wind, and sit in the sun while admiring it.

We continued our wanderings, this time passing through the Porta Soprana, part of the Walls of Genoa.  During the long history of Genoa, the city has always been fortified by walls.  The most famous of those that remain is the Porta Soprana located at the top of St. Andrew Hill.

Continuing our walk, we wound our way through narrow streets...

Past the house that is the birthplace of Christopher Columbus...

Past picturesque buildings...

And suddenly we found ourselves in a beautiful park in the center of the city called the Villetta di Negro.  Stinkerbell was past the point of exhaustion at this point, so we sat in the sunshine for a bit before heading in, and up, to see what we had found.  Turns out, the park is quite popular with the people of Genoa since there are few green spaces in the city.  We explored the nooks and crannies and waterfalls that once made up a zoo and took in the panoramic views of the city, before heading back down.  And sadly, back into the wind.

The statue of Mazzini - at the bottom entrance to the park.

Our ship, as seen from the top of the park.

Back down we found MadHatter's street..

A napping spot for Stinkerbell...

Seeing as she wasn't feeling well, and kept laying down where ever we stopped, E took pity on her (and my arms) and gave her a piggy back ride for a bit.

We knew at this point that our time was growing short.  Stinkerbell wasn't going to make it much farther so we had some lunch - Genoa salami and their famous pesto, of course.  We were only a short way from the ship at this point, so we headed back.

The famous Lanterna.  One of the 5 tallest lighthouses in the world.  Between 1543 and 1902, it was actually the tallest.

Our ship.

Our ship with three girls being blown away.

We were back on board with plenty of time to have an ice cream treat, a nap and time to do our journals before heading to our last dinner.  My girls stopped to have their picture taken by the photographers one last time on the "sparkly stairs".

Stinkerbell cut dinner short by falling asleep.  Not much of a surprise to anyone.  But it was ok because we needed to have all of our bags packed and outside of our stateroom doors before bed so that they could have them off the ship for us at disembarkation in the morning.  Which, as always, was fairly early.

Un Bonne Journée

We arrived in France early on Saturday morning.  It was overcast, and a bit cooler than the past few days (but still warmer than Prague), so we grabbed our jackets and umbrellas and headed out to catch our shuttle bus to the Vieux Port (Old Port).

Deposited on the banks of the Mediterranean Sea, we looked around to get our bearings and where we would like to head first.    Looking up, we saw our reflections.  

To our right were fisherman, just off of their boats, selling the days catch.  Some still moving.

Behind us, the Ferris Wheel.  (Looking very much like the famed travelling Paris one...)

But our first destination was right in front of us.  Well, it was in front of us, but I can't really say it was right there.  We had a ways to walk.  Both forward, and up.

We headed out on foot in the general direction of the Notre Dame de la Garde.  Along the way, we stopped for a picture in front of the Palais du Justice (closed), and continued on.  

We stumbled upon this set of stairs.  They seemed to be going in the direction we wanted to be headed so we walked up...and up...and up.

It brought us to this set of stairs, and a great view of our target, so we kept heading up...and up...and up.

Closer...

And finally we were there.

And the views were stunning.

The island in the middle of the picture is If.  Housing the former prison and Chateau D'If, which was made famous by the movie The Count of Monte Cristo.  We briefly thought of visiting, but then decided that the small boat ride, on choppy waters, would not be conducive for two sea sickness prone adults.

As the thunder started to rumble and the lightning streaked the sky, we ducked inside the church so that perhaps we could get back down before it really let loose.

The Notre-Dame de la Guard is a Neo-Byzantine church built on the highest natural point in Marseilles and the citizens see it as the protector of the city.  The fisherman also see it as the protector of their livelihood.  They come to the basilica to pray for protection of their boats while at sea, and for good catches.

We said a prayer...

And lit a candle.

Back out on the streets, we began to wind our way back down to the port, hoping to beat the rain.  And we did, just barely.

Random Sheep.

Once the rain started to fall, it really started to fall.  It was coming down in sheets and even had hail mixed in.  We ducked into the nearest creperie to dry out our sloshing boots.  Which turned out to be a great little lunch spot.  We had crepes, a glass of wine and warmed up a bit.  All in a really quaint, old restaurant.

Raindrops on the lens even.

Tummies full, we still had to get back to the port and our ship.  The rain had let up a bit, but it was still coming down.  It didn't dampen the girls enthusiasm.  They refused umbrella's and splashed and played as we walked...

And then they spotted the Carousel.  Who could refuse them a ride...

And then we needed to dry out again.  Thankfully, there was a bakery right next door.  Another check mark on our list of things to do - eat macaroons in France.

And then we were spent.  We had climbed as many steps as we could.  And we had dodged and weaved around too many raindrops.  We bought our final souvenirs (Savon de Provence and our traditional magnet) and boarded the last shuttle bus back to the ship.

Once aboard, we decided to call it a day.  E and J had a family dinner in the dining room while we took advantage of our free room service, ordered a movie from the t.v. and settled in on our couch for a low key evening in the room.   And we got to share it all with a guest...