So some of you have heard about my latest adventures in itchiness... but for those of you not privy to me scratching my bum in public I will diviludge the story. I am taking a card from Ari and deciding that my own embarassment shouldn't stop me from sharing a story. It all started last time I was on Utila, I ended up with a bunch of what I suspected were sand fly bites all along my bikini line. Then I woke up in Monteverde with my entire right ass cheek covered in bites. Being my own blase stubborn self I refused to see a doctor and put up with the incessent itch for two and a half weeks. I did try a number of home remedies, hydrocortosone cream, calamine, benedryl, chammomile tea, but nothing worked. I mean not at all in the least. Of course for a girl who picks her nose in public, scratching your ass is not that big of a deal.
But I finally broke down another girl, well call her Jane, woke up with similar looking bites all over her arms and forehead. She put up with them for almost a week until we got to Ometepe. By then all the bites were swollen and raised, so we enlisted the help of Donald one of my favorite Nicaraguans. Donald told us to go to the local clinic up the road. We did make a visit there, where I witnessed a Nicaraguan tooth extraction, before getting distracted by wanting to eat breakfast. Over waffles, Nestor (my nica van man) convinced us to go to the hospital when we were in Myogalpa on our island tour.
Cue Nicaraguan hospital experience! The local hospital is a low one story building, you enter into the waiting room filled with yellow metal seats that are welded together into long rows. Nestor went to inquire about an apointment and we posted up. Jane took a page from the Nica's and laid down and started taking a nap. Nestor and I shot the shit about transport prices until he flagged down a passing doctor who began to examine my sleeping friend. We ended waking her up and his prognosis was wavering until he saw one of the bites on my bum. And then the death blow was delivered, "Escahbies," he said with certainty.
"Excuse me? Scabies!" Gross. He then went on to explain about huevitos under our skin. Barf. Little eggs under my skin? By some parasitic bitcho? Yuck. Nestor and I started cracking jokes about how I have huevos, and being entirely inapropriate. Then came the prescriptions... one cream, two lotions and because Jane had had an allergic reaction to the bites he advised two cortosone shots for her, and two antihistamine shots for me.
Yes, shots in the poorest central american nation, good times! Of course we had to get the camera out and start taking pictures. The institutional green walls with the nasty overhead flourescent lighting made for fantastic photos. Here is gemma getting shot in the ass cracking up as friends take photos. My favorite part was that Jane was wearing a che cap, I got a couple good ones of here laying on the hospital bed with a huge oxygen tank in the frame.
It's the best time I've ever had at a hospital! We left and returned to the hotel where we proceeeded to boil water to wash our clothes in. That left us wearing only sarongs back to the hospital, this time accompanied by one of my coworkers. More photos, more jokes, and then a trip to Nicaraguan pharmacies.
The first pharmacy didn't have scabies cream, at the second the Pharmacist was out with his girfriend and his mother couldn't reach him, the third was a pharmacy/hardware store/funeral home. Finally we got to head back to the hotel for dinner. We called ahead and ordered it over the phone, I had a victory dinner of waffles. What a day.
My suggestion, don't get scabies they itch like hell, but they sure make a great story!
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Friday, February 22, 2008
throwing down in granada
Well life has been a bit of a throw back lately. Just when I thought I might have lost my ability to party like a rockstar I got my giddy up back. I think it is a result of my new group and their crazy energy and love for a good time. We´re about a week into this trip and things haven´t slowed down, I have gone to bed close to dawn more times in the last week than in the last six months.
Highlight include....
being serenaded by my guaro-drunken passengers at the local karaoke spot on Valentine´s day... I believe it was sweet caroline (which reminds me of another memorable night).
dancing salsa (some of us barefoot) at the infamous Amigos in Monteverde, then getting almost back to the hotel and deciding that we should take off in search of another party, which we started along the road side.
pissing everyone at the hotel off while we laughed and had an evening picknick at the hotel.
and finally last night happened...
Sarah who has been named of late the Disco Queen, bet me $10 to say to a booty shaking englishman, ¨You`re not a local are you? I can tell by how you dance.¨ As I was fairly far into the evening it didn´t take much for me to take her up on it. Luke, my new friend from the other side of the pond, turned out to be a friendly chap. He was passing the time in Granada with to ridiculously drunk friends, one especially so. Patrick was the lovely man`s name, he came complete with the irish flag tatooed on his arm. Patrick was game to attempt to dance to reggaeton and salsa which provided me with much entertainment. We were all getting along nicely until Patrick got into it with a nasty Norte Americano. Punches were flying, gringos and nicas running. The whole thing was broken up pretty quickly and Patrick ended up escorted outside. Patrick being a well bred Irishman was not through with the fight. I was trying him to walk home with the local watchyman, but he didn`t know his hotel name. In the time it took me to run inside and inquire about his lodging, Patrick`s nemesis emerged from the bar. The guy looked at me and said, ¨North American? Where are you from?¨
¨California.¨
¨It f`ing figures.¨
I only mention this part of the interaction because I am still not sure what he meant by that, but no matter. Then the guy set into speaking some of the most ridiculous spanglish I have heard in a while, ¨Telefono the police-o. I want this guy in jail-o.¨
The security guards only looked at him puzzled while trying to hold back an eager Patrick, whom I ended up grabbing and throwing up against a wall while telling him that he did not want a trip to a Nicaraguan jail. The security got the Norte Americano to retreat to the bar, and I finally got Patrick to walk back to his hotel with the watchyman but only after buying a single cigarette and a pack of gum.
The whole thing was a fascinating experience, mostly because I kept thinking that had that been me fighting and any of the Nelly ladies had been around the whole thing would have turned into a brawl.
Any how thought I would share a little bit of the madness...
besos.
Highlight include....
being serenaded by my guaro-drunken passengers at the local karaoke spot on Valentine´s day... I believe it was sweet caroline (which reminds me of another memorable night).
dancing salsa (some of us barefoot) at the infamous Amigos in Monteverde, then getting almost back to the hotel and deciding that we should take off in search of another party, which we started along the road side.
pissing everyone at the hotel off while we laughed and had an evening picknick at the hotel.
and finally last night happened...
Sarah who has been named of late the Disco Queen, bet me $10 to say to a booty shaking englishman, ¨You`re not a local are you? I can tell by how you dance.¨ As I was fairly far into the evening it didn´t take much for me to take her up on it. Luke, my new friend from the other side of the pond, turned out to be a friendly chap. He was passing the time in Granada with to ridiculously drunk friends, one especially so. Patrick was the lovely man`s name, he came complete with the irish flag tatooed on his arm. Patrick was game to attempt to dance to reggaeton and salsa which provided me with much entertainment. We were all getting along nicely until Patrick got into it with a nasty Norte Americano. Punches were flying, gringos and nicas running. The whole thing was broken up pretty quickly and Patrick ended up escorted outside. Patrick being a well bred Irishman was not through with the fight. I was trying him to walk home with the local watchyman, but he didn`t know his hotel name. In the time it took me to run inside and inquire about his lodging, Patrick`s nemesis emerged from the bar. The guy looked at me and said, ¨North American? Where are you from?¨
¨California.¨
¨It f`ing figures.¨
I only mention this part of the interaction because I am still not sure what he meant by that, but no matter. Then the guy set into speaking some of the most ridiculous spanglish I have heard in a while, ¨Telefono the police-o. I want this guy in jail-o.¨
The security guards only looked at him puzzled while trying to hold back an eager Patrick, whom I ended up grabbing and throwing up against a wall while telling him that he did not want a trip to a Nicaraguan jail. The security got the Norte Americano to retreat to the bar, and I finally got Patrick to walk back to his hotel with the watchyman but only after buying a single cigarette and a pack of gum.
The whole thing was a fascinating experience, mostly because I kept thinking that had that been me fighting and any of the Nelly ladies had been around the whole thing would have turned into a brawl.
Any how thought I would share a little bit of the madness...
besos.
Friday, February 1, 2008
cold front fun in belice, bitch!
ciao guate!
the cold front coming in
the familyJust a bit of pixelated love from my new year´s mission to country six. An adventure full of fish, bitters, and banana leaves.
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