I Moved To Oaxaca

Thursday, October 09, 2003

Hello again. It's Thursday, and I'm at school. I got here early thinking I had a class at 4:30, but it's not until 6pm. Bummer. But better than the other way around.

To recap my week: on Saturday after class Greg and I show up at Claire and Oscars, but they haven't picked a place, and don't show much inclination to start. Greg is tired, too, so when they suggest a movie and a day trip on Sunday, Greg agrees. Bummer. Sunday rolls around, and we go over at the agreed time, a dismally late in the day noon, and Oscar is sick. Oh, no! Bummer. We end up driving to Gringolandia instead and buying an iron.

By that time I am in a terrible funk. I wanted to get out and into the mountains bad, and it wasn't happening. And I had nothing to read, having missed all the good magazines at the English-language bookstore. So I took a nap, and when I woke up, my eyes were all gummy. Bummer -- pink eye. And as the afternoon progressed I began to feel worse and worse. Monday morning wasn't so good. I stumbled into work, but felt completely awful. Bummer. So Greg got the name of an English-speaking doctor near our house, and after arranging for someone to take my Monday afternoon class, I walked down in the rain to the doctors. Only the address hadn't been transcribed correctly, so I had to walk back the other way. Then I discovered the doctor's name hadn't made it down right, either. But I wandered through the clinic, which was closed for siesta, until I found someone sitting at a desk and could croak out "┬┐Donde esta?" and wave my little scrap of paper at her. She told me the right door to go to, but it was closed. Ah, payphone out front. No phone card on me. Bummer.

Now, I was supposed to be there, according to the directions I got, before 4pm or the doctor would be gone, and it was fast approaching 4pm. After dithering for about 5 minutes, trying not to cry, I decided to walk home, get a phone card, walk back, and call. Which I did. But the English-speaking doctor's receptionist does not speak English, and I couldn't understand what she was saying. So I trooped back through the clinic, found another random person, and managed to understand that the clinic reopened at 6pm. So I walked back home to wait.

Back at 6pm, waited about 45 minutes, went in to see the doctor who it turns out is a surgeon. But he takes me downstairs to see another doctor (a geriatric doctor, but closer than a surgeon) who takes a look and says, yep, pink eye and laryngitis, hands me a prescription for a bunch of stuff, and sends me off to get it. Oh, the office visit was only 200 pesos! Try wandering in off the street and seeing a doctor for $20 back home.

So I wander off to find the farmacias he'd suggested, but couldn't find them. Bummer. So I went back up to the Llano to the farmacia across the street. They had half the stuff, which I got and took home. And there I stayed until this morning, when I got up and stumbled off to teach this morning. After my class, Greg and I went over to Immigration to pick up our FM3s, but ... and you knew this was coming, we need two small things first. So we left empty-handed. Bummer.

And I realize that this is a bummer of a post, and I hope it gets better soon. But I think I'm hitting an adjustment wall.


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