hospitals yet again

I'm walking through the a shopping centre without a care. All is well with the world. Suddenly with the next footfall I'm writhing in pain. Each footstep is incredibly difficult. I limp across the shopping centre, along a passage, out a door, across a carpark and into the car. As I do I realise that the pain is in the exact parts of my foot that hurt two years ago when I fell and sprained my ankle. It took me months to recover from that injury ... and here it is again out of the blue.

I limp off to see an orthopedic surgeon as last time it was suggested that I may have broken a bone in my foot. He quickly tells me that despite the pain and despite the swelling, there's absolutely nothing wrong with my foot. What I am feeling is referred pain from a problem with the lower back. As strange as it sounds, I come to terms with that.

A few days later I manage to get an appointment to see a brilliant osteopath in Dubai. Upon hearing my story he doubts the accuracy of the diagnosis. The upshot is that he is sure that the pain I am feeling in my foot is a result of injuries to ligaments and tendons. My back is fine. I look down to see that he is wearing a hard plastic boot; the same one he wore when I visited him two months earlier. He fell off his motorbike and fractured several bones when the bike landed on top of him. I figure he knows about foot pain!

So here I am about to set off on a walking tour of Europe with a gammy foot. Or is it a gammy back? I'm going with the foot.

you've gotta love banks

Well you know it's a funny thing. A year ago I was blogging and grumping about banks here in Al Ain. We were about to do a grand tour of Europe and had applied for an HSBC card. All was going well. The card was approved and we'd received it, but when I decided to test it, it didn't work - declined. That was a great start! I rang the bank. Yes, I'd activated it. Yes, I'd done X, Y and Z. It turns out the bank had cancelled the card for some, still mysterious, reason. It took us several days to figure out that this had happened. After making umpteen phone calls, in desperation, we ended up going to see the bank manager, who was a very nice young-ish Emirati man. With his assistance we finally got the account reinstated and received a replacement card the night before we took off for Europe. This was a great relief to us on the eve of our holiday.

Well, as it happens we are about to head off on holidays again and true to form HSBC have decided that now would be a good time to mess us around again. Our credit card, which had a 35,000 dh limit has just dropped to a 600 dh limit. 600 dh? They have to be joking. It turns out that they reduced our credit limit because we haven't been using the card. Apparently one has to use 1000 dh per month to maintain the limit. Not that we were ever told that, it must be in the extra-fine print. Of course it's not possible for the bank to adjust the limit up again, but if we keep the card at the 600 dh max for six months, they'll review the situation and may adjust our credit upwards. That's so helpful. I am completely underwhelmed!

Cards are now cancelled and we're not in a hurry to have dealings with HSBC again!

new camera

Jumping for joy. New camera ... finally. I've only wanted one for a hundred years. I've been using dicky little point and shoot numbers forever. I figured out my budget, did my research and came up with the perfect camera for my needs. All was well.

Well, that it is, until I got it home. It's so damn fandangled! The last time I had a decent camera it was well before the D appeared in DSLR. It used to be a matter of light, aperature, speed. But this new number has so many buttons, knobs and dials that I don't know where to start. I'm terrified of it.

I've taken it out for a few runs and it keeps producing unexpected results. This camera is the boss of me. I can see myself spending the next year or so attempting to subjugate it.

The first pics are of the apartment. I thought I'd show the folks back home, who are never gonna come and visit us, what the place looks like. The aim of this first one is to make the balcony look bigger as it's really just a tiny elongated postage stamp. And because the folks are not likely to visit, they'll never know the deception I've perpetrated.

View from the postage stamp.
And the loungeroom. The aim here was to give an impression of what the room looks like. That didn't work! I'm sure it doesn't look this messy in real life, does it?

As you can see, it might be a year or more before I can both manage all the bits and bobs on the camera and take a pleasing shot. At any rate I do expect, in 365 days, to be able to award myself a Master of Cameraology. Oh and the camera ... a Canon 450D ... and I'm so far out of my depth it's silly! Imagine being able to step up and manage the Canon 5D MkII. Crikey! How do you do that?

Oh, and we're off to Rome. What are the chances of coming out of the trip camera intact?

I was heading to Al Jimi Mall the other day when I noticed the left lane of the road was blocked off by witches' hats. (I'm not sure if that's Aussie English or international English - witches' hats - you know those orange cones indicating road works or a road hazard). An official yellow, diamond sign helpfully informed me 'lift lane closed.' That was good. I like road signs like that, they get the imagination going, but my all time favourite road signs in Al Ain are the arrow markings on the road.

This used to be my favourite bit of road in Al Ain.


Until I saw this. Sorry? Which way do you want me to turn? Seriously?

long time coming

Decisions have been made. Plans are afoot. This baby (pic) is going to take us on a 20 day Mediterranean cruise. Our cabin comes with a balcony so the plan is to lie back with feet up, book in hand and a coffee or fermented grape substance in easy reach.

Before and after the cruise we're staying in each of Brussels, Bruges, Paris and Rome for a few days.

Sorting out itineraries, accommodation and transport is not a great deal of fun and has the potential to spoil a good holiday. But on the other hand, I guess that it's so wearying that one is ready for good holiday after that!

Another month of teaching, marking and adminning. Then we're off.

New York Paris Rome?

Part of the cost of living in the Emirates is the summer holiday expenses. Staying here in the heat with half the city closed down is just not an option. So where to?

In our holiday planning in the last few weeks, we've taken virtual trips everywhere. We spent a few weeks in South Africa and a week in Zanzibar. We did a road trip of the US and a trip back home to Australia. We did a week in Amsterdam, a week in Rome and a three week cruise of the Mediterranean. But ... we're no closer to making a decision. In fact, after all these virutal trips and decisions we're pretty much sick of the whole thing.

So where to?

some nights one just can't get any traction on the pillow

Three in the morning. Any sensible person would be all tucked up in bed by now.

emeg

Last week we took a trip out to the Emirates Marine Environment Group. What a fabulous trip. I've never seen the girls so relaxed and happy. They had a ball and so did we. There was lots to learn and see. Wonderful place.

Unfortunately I forgot to recharge my camera battery before I left. I'd hoped to at least be able to get a few shots off before it died. I guess that I should be grateful for the one solitary shot I did get. It hardly does the place justice but here it is.

desert days

Two of us ventured out into the depths of the desert the other day with a group of local girls. Okay, it wasn't the depths of the desert, it was just a ten minute trip from Al Ain, but who knew that they were hiding a lake out there. With Jebel Hafeet as the backdrop, it was very pretty.

I loved the colours; the orange of the sand, the blue of the sky and the lake, the green of the bushes and the reeds and the contrast with the black abayas and shailas.

Check the sky.

Three girls go strolling.

Shot!

Jebel Hafeet makes a lovely backdrop.

hospitals

^%$*&%$$ !$@%!

London

Long time passing.

Pics of London. I love the red telephone boxes. I remember them from when I was a kid in Aus, but that was a hundred years ago. They've all packed up and gone now.

I'm a sucker for a romantic comedy, so I had to visit Notting Hill; love Portobello road with its old buildings, ramshackle array of goods spilling out of shops and brightly coloured doors and walls - pink, green, red, orange, blue, purple. And as an extra bonus George Orwell lived there. No sign of Hugh though. How trendy does a street need to be?



And of course there was lots of weather!

cold hot cold hot

Grey skies, rain, hail, momentary glimpses of sunshine (if you look up at the right time!). Of course I'm in London. Love the red double decker buses and the red telephone boxes. They are so iconically London.

Food and drink are criminally expensive. Just a modest snack sets you back an arm and a leg, and most of the fare is very ordinary so one resents having to pay for it. We've had a few nice meals, but they seem to be the exceptions.

Checked out a Kevin Spacey play at the Old Vic; 'Complicit.' Theatre in the round. Minimal set, very talky. The play dealt with the moral issue of journalist non-disclosure. The script didn't get to the nub of the problem and was somewhat shallow. We were disappointed and thus can't presently bring ourselves to book another play - we should though before we leave.

The Tube is fantastic - easy to navigate and trains arrive the instant you set foot on the platform - I think a footfall triggers the trains' appearance. The pace of the city is frenetic. People rush by at a great rate of knots. They've obviously got places to be and things to do!

Galleries and museums being free is fantastic. I gained a new respect for Gainsborough. I'd always thought of him as 'the landscape guy.' Seeing his work up close, I loved it. The detail and brush strokes are stunning.

Today's plan is to take in The Globe, Millenium Bridge and St.Paul's amongst other landmarks.

The weather is icy, especially when the wind picks up, but is quite bearable when wearing lots of layers. The problem is that the indoors are heated/over-heated to the point of being stifling and one doesn't want to strip down to one's undies for fear of offending others! Or maybe I'm just too prudish and should just do it and be comfortable. ('Maybe not' I hear you say.)

quietly adding another year to the tally today

Happy festive season to all my readers (I think that's just me and the stray cat that's walking along the balcony railing and peering over my shoulder). Let's trust that 2009 will bring lots of great things, though of course it is hard to determine just what that is. For me it includes a rocketing British pound and US dollar and a plummeting Aussie dollar.

We've had the usual round of expat do-s, all of which have been enjoyable and all of which involved copious amounts of bubbly. Last night it was a murder dinner and I thought for a moment that 'I done it,' but turned out to be that floozy across the table from me.

One problem that I always have during Christmas - New Year is that my birthday falls smack bang in the middle of that period and brings with it more festivities. I feel that a reprieve from festivities is needed. Maybe if I just say a quiet, "Happy Birthday me," no-one will notice and the day will pass otherwise unremarked.

Well, it's 7:45 am and my son, T, just texted to say that he and his girlfriend, C, have arrived in Doobs. They're staying for a couple of days at a swish hotel right near the Burj. K actually checked The Age newspaper this morning at 1 am to make sure that no planes had fallen out of the sky between Australia and here! It seems that one never stops being a parent and never stops worrying about the offspring!

Looking forward to seeing T & C for a few days before they continue their journey on to Egypt to check out the pyramids and take a Nile cruise.

PS - pic above knicked from net.

how to win friends and influence people

Ennui sets in.

Psychologically limping through to the next hols. Dispute with neighbour over cats. What next?

Actually I feel bad about the cat thing. The neighbour took an instant dislike to me 18 months ago when we first met. I made a flippant remark way back then which I heard through the grapevine was absolutely misinterpreted and held up as evidence of my skinflint ways. Ah well, what can you do?

Said neighbour is one of a small group feeding the stray cats in the neighbourhood. The cats are mangey, thin and some are injured. One has only one eye and one seems to have some kind of conjunctivitis as it can't open it's eyes very much. I understand the pity for the animals, but it seems to me that feeding them only encourages breeding and has the effect of inviting cats from further afield to move into our neighbourhood.

The neighbour has taken to feeding the cats right at the entrance to the apartments. This has encouraged the cats to hang around the door. Instead of the usual one or two cats we had to ensure didn't find their way into the stair wells and common areas, we now have to shoo several cats away. The car park and entrance area sometimes smell strongly of cat pee. The newspapers delivered to our door have even been peed upon.

I don't know what the answer to the cat problem is - letting them starve is hardly humane. A neighbour who has moved out used to have them neutered. That's a better solution, but I really don't know who footed the bill.

I've never been a fan of cats. I don't wish ill for the strays, but nor do I want them, their food or their pee stench at my door. Seeing said neighbour feeding them today, I felt obliged to say something. Needless to say it didn't do anything for our relations! I'm not sure that it did anything to encourage the feeding of the cats in another location either. I guess time will tell.

When you see them like this, they look pretty innocuous, don't they?

of lumbago, subdural haematomas and pain

I've been somewhere on the 'sick ... well' scale during the last several weeks. I'm mostly at the 'well' end now, but have to head in to the hospital for another minor operation in January. It's nothing life-threatening! There were two botched attempts in October/November and I'm going back for more! Some people just never learn!

On each of the previous efforts they gave me an anaesthetic and the doctor assured me that I'd be partially awake, but wouldn't remember anything. Well, I remember everything including the pain and the exact conversations the doctor and nurses were having. I remember the doctor shaking his head and saying 'I've never seen anything like it. Really. Never. Nothing like it!' I remember the nurse saying 'Doctor. The oxygen. She's not getting enough oxygen.' I remember them saying, 'Breathe. Breathe deep. Breathe deep. Keep breathing. Deep. Open your eyes Madam M. Open your eyes. Look at me. Can you look at me? Breathe deep. Keep breathing.' While all this was going on I was thinking, why? What's all the fuss? I'm fine. I just feel like a nap. Leave me alone.

For the second op they told K they knew exactly where they had to snip out some bits and it would just take 20 minutes so he might as well just wait outside rather than go home. I can remember lying on the table watching the clock. 20 mins. 25 mins. 40 mins. An hour and 10 mins. Two hours and 20. Three hours. I remember thinking, poor K. What's he thinking? He must be really worried. He's probably wondering if my life insurance is paid up ... calculating the monetary value of my continued life v my demise. When it got to 3 hours and 30 mins the doctor decided to give up saying it wasn't fair on me or on him. The pain was awful and I'd been begging him for the last hour and a half to give me more anaesthetic or to stop. When he finally gave up I thought 'About bloody time!'

Since then I've been on meds and the challenge has been to get the dosage right. Too much or too little and side effects are just awful. Things were going quite well until today. I'm wondering if today's symptoms are related to the meds or something altogether different! Do you know the senstation of just wanting time to roll on so that you get past an unpleasant episode in your life? That's kind've how I feel. Let's just fast forward a few months please.

Another random thought ... you know how some old people live for their illnesses? It's all they ever talk about ... well ... hmmm. I think I need a new topic of conversation.

went to the hospital and lived to tell the tale ... barely

Oh dear. Another hospital story. These places are run by clowns! I see a GP who neglects to take any kind of medical history and then names my disease. I tell her that is very unlikely to be the case because ... (I give her the details) ... she prescribes meds which I have to point out aren't appropriate because ... (I give her the appropriate information) and then she tells me the next step to take at which point I have to point out that that's an inappropriate course of action because ... (I give her the details). Had she taken any kind of medical history, she'd not have made any of the errors she made, any one of which could have resulted in a law suit. Can you do that here? Sue doctors? Hmmm. I could be rich. Maybe I shouldn't have so arrogantly corrected her.

After seeing her I saw a specialist who was marginally better on taking the history though he wanted to send me off for inappropriate testing.

We've had a few hospital ordeals since we've been here. K can't understand why I'd choose to go to a hospital rather than just lie in a corner and die. He thinks that'd be a much easier option. It's the course he's decided upon should he fall sick again. I just hope it's not a corner of our abode. That'd get smelly after a while.

good one Bill

One of the great things about holidays is that you get a lot of reading done. I've just finished a book called quite simply 'Shakespeare' by Bill Bryson. He questions every 'fact' that we have about Shakespeare and in the process we learn a lot about Elizabethan England. For example spelling was pretty wild. One word could often be written in half a dozen ways and often was on one page. The spelling of Shakespeare for example is not clear. The version we use today wasn't one of those used in Shakspeare's (Shakeshaft's / Shappere's / Shakspere's / Shakespear's - apparently there are up to 80 versions) time. Shakespeare's own signature appears in at least six different forms.

Understandably the printing press back in Shaker's day was not what it is today. Editors took liberties with grammar, spelling and wording. When multiple copies of a book were pressed, it was a big job that could be sent to several different printeries. Each one would have proof-readers/editors pawing over the books. They'd all make different decisions about what went where and what was intended. Lines sometimes got cut because they didn't fit neatly onto a page or because there'd been a transcription error. The original documents were often dodgy. Most of the plays for example had several working versions. Sometimes they were what the actors recalled and were written retrospectively. Sometimes people would sit in the audience and transcribe while listening. These versions became mixed with more original versions. Later no-one was sure which version or which parts of which versions were authentic. One version of Hamlet's soliliquy came out as

To be, or not to be, I there's the point,
To Die, to sleepe, is that all? I all.:
No, to sleepe, to dreame, I mary there it goes,
For in that dreame of death, when wee awake,
And borne before an everlasting Judge,
From whence no passenger ever returned

Hmmm. That doesn't quite have the same ring to it. All that we have left today are the print versions that editors came up with a few years after Shakespeare's death.

Words Shakers contributed to the language incluce zany, abstemious, critical, frugal, dwindle, excellent and eventful. He was big on 'un' prefixes and created unmask, unhand, unlock and untie. Some of his words didn't stick though - undeaf and insultment being among them. Phrases include vanish into thin air, budge an inch, flesh and blood and blinking idiot.

Little is known about Shakespeare's personal life though much clearly incorrect information has been written and repeated through the years.

I loved reading about what Queen Lizzy The First was up to at the time, the politics, the bizarre laws (at various earnings you were permitted to wear silk of various colours. As you stepped up you were allowed to wear velvet) and the lives of ordinary people. If only the Shakespeare course I did at uni in my youth had been as interesting as Bryson's book.

cypriot sunshine

Near Aphrodite's bath

Desert scrub, mountain pines and Aussie gum trees; Cyprus has a varied, if largely brown (due to months of drought)landscape. Yesterday brought the first rains in ten months flooding the roads hastening our exit from Paphos.

We were singularly unimpressed with Paphos. We entered the city and found ourselves in a traffic jam snaking endlessly through narrow streets in the city. We found our way to the beach to be met with an uneventful line of shops. In reality there were only three of them, but they were duplicated ad nauseam; over-priced largely tacky restaurant, tacky souvenir shop and clothing shop. We thought we’d play it relatively safe and cheap by getting fish and chips thinking that at least we’d get a passable version of something the area is reputed to specialize in. However, it seems that they can get it horribly wrong. The streets were crowded with overweight, underdressed, smoking, sunburnt non-natives. Perhaps we found a less desirable part of Paphos on a bad day.


Scenery along the back road home - Paphos to Kato Akourdaleia



Polis is old and a little less tourist oriented, but give it time and it will no doubt offer up the same charmless scene as Paphos.

What I do like in Cyprus is the things you discover off the main roads. There are any number of villages worth a visit. Many have breath-taking outlooks over mountains and sea. Roads through and around many of the villages are narrow and steep, but filled with delights.





Our host, Mrs Angela, cooks the best food we’ve discovered so far on the island. Eating out in the courtyard is lovely and very social. We’ve had some lovely evenings and have befriended a delightful Turkish man and his friendly German wife. We’ve met a Scotsman who has my daughter’s dream job. She always wanted to ‘blow the shit outa stuff’ for a living. He does just that as an explosives engineer. Mrs Angela’s Inn is in the tiniest of villages. It has just a few houses, lots of cats, a few dogs and extremely narrow roads! The buildings, gardens and countryside would best be described as ramshackle, but the village is quite charming with fruit and flowers bursting out of every nook and cranny.

Entrance to the Inn

Views in and around the village

distant memories

Just when I thought holidays were a dim and distant memory, 'they' announced a nine day Eid break. And in that single gesture, holidays are upon me again. So we're off to Cyprus on Saturday.

Life's good.

the party's over

Two days back teaching and I'm thinking, 'Holidays? What Holidays?' They seem so remote now!

I'm already planning my next break, but I'm not sure what to do with K. He's developed planeophobia. He swears he'll never get on a plane again. I'm not sure how he'll make it back to Aus when we're done here. I think he's planning to walk across the dessert and them swim.