Psst. C'mon over here. No, closer. Closer. Close--OW! Okay, close enough. Wanna know a secret? Something to shock and amaze you? Something to shake up your world and change your perspectives forever? I'll assume that since you're still reading, the answer is yes.
Here it is: I've been having trouble sleeping lately.
All right, perhaps it's not quite world-view-shaking or perspective-changing, but it's happening, none the less. And it's weird. Getting to sleep is fine, but that's when it all starts to get interesting. See, I've been having weird, vivid dreams. Every night, and all night to boot. And I've been waking up in places where I haven't gone to sleep like the kitchen, or the other bedroom. And I've been waking up to find myself doing strange things, like the other night when I awoke sometime around 4am in the midst of trying to stuff all my bedding and towels in the closet. I gather it was to protect them from cockroaches or the like. Or last week, when I awoke in the middle of my bedroom floor, standing on one foot and holding my pillow over my head (I still haven't figured that one out). And mornings are just unpleasant - every morning for weeks now I've shot awake and gotten halfway across the room in a panic that I was late for something before I've realized that I'm fine.
I figure I'm either possessed or suffering some undue anxiedty about finishing this term. Personally (and it is personal), I'd rather be possessed, since there really isn't anything to be anxious about. Grades are good, flight is booked, USMLE plans are made, stuff is sold, food is being eaten, and friends are skyped/facebooked. Hospitals are not yet assigned, but I don't really have much of a stake in where I'm sent so it's not really a big deal to me. But on the other hand, possession is harder to deal with than anxiety. I have yet to see a late-night tv ad for possession medication, after all. Though I'd love to, because honestly - that would be kinda cool. In any case I suspect the only thing to do is ride it out - another month of nocturnal crazy isn't likely to kill me. Of course, if anyone sees my head rotate all the way around on my neck, call an exorcist, k?
10 November 2009
08 November 2009
I didn't work hard, but I did work. That counts, right?
They say that all good things must come to an end (or at least Star Trek said it; I don't know who the original "they" is), but apparently this is also true for the less-good things, like exams. here's the recap:
Monday was pathophys. This time around, BSFCR and pathophys were in different packets (they told us it was too much work to have them mixed up together), generating absolutely no confusion whatsoever until the proctor decided to explain it to us. Other than that and the actual material covered, it was exactly the same as the previous exam, complete with random questions pulled out of nowhere (though fewer than before) and a hefty curve. In other words, meh.
Clinical skills was on wed and aside from the 18-line stems in typewriter font with the occasion correct answer still bolded and/or in a different font (okay, only one) and questions about treatment strategies (a few) and required question about Reiter Syndrome (can't see, can't pee, can't climb tree - we get it already!) and (alleged) 10 point curve, it was decent. Meh the second.
Pharm, on friday, managed to overcome the horridness intrinsic to the material and prove to me once again that this is the best-run department in second year. I maintain my undying love for Dr D and his merry men, though whether or not I choose to act on it depends on what my grade looks like.
Friday night was dinner with DSO at Vasta Baankan, where we split everything and still came away stuffed and happy. Is there any sweeter phrase in English that "compliments of the chef?" If so, I don't want to know. Afterward, Bananas and drinking and good conversation and a nice boy with pretty eyes. What more could I really want?
On a completely unrelated (okay, mostly unrelated) note - my AC is broken again, so I had to move into the other bedroom at my apartment. J - you were entirely right - your room is FREEZING! How did you stand it - even set really low (high?) it's still cold!
Saturday involved renewing my CPR training with 69 of my peers on the floor in Taylor (and no, that's not a euphemism, as much as I'd like it to be), visiting the ICSA cultural show (definitely an improvement on the show I saw back in Term 1, though it would have been hard to be worse).
A couple of train wreck performances (as a general rule, I'd advise practicing your routine at least once as a group before getting on stage. I don't care how sexy it looked when you did it alone in front of the mirror, 15 minutes of uncoordinated step-ball-change + hand-waving with 7 of your closest friends on stage is a bit monotonous to watch), but some genuine talent managed to get through this time around (including B, who sang such a sweet love song to his girlfriend that half the audience spontaneously developed cavities, but he did it so well that I voluntarily listened to it again when I saw the facebook video. Oh, and J + band, who did a pop song that apart from bringing back memories of high school I'd thought were safely repressed was still a lot of fun). And of course, plenty of lame jokes by the emcees and fun acts by people who were plainly enjoying themselves so much that it was almost as much fun to watch (yes D - I'm looking at you and yours'). It's almost enough to make me miss this place when I leave.**
Today was the infamous Clinical Meeting, where we were informed that it doesn't matter which hospital we end up at, but that they'll try to get us where we want to go anyway. In other words, we should stop whining and be glad they don't just randomly assign all of us. But as a result, I'm mainly basing my choices on ValueMD posts and Srav's fantastic advice.
And now it begins again, for the final time!
**Okay, that's a lie. Psych!
Monday was pathophys. This time around, BSFCR and pathophys were in different packets (they told us it was too much work to have them mixed up together), generating absolutely no confusion whatsoever until the proctor decided to explain it to us. Other than that and the actual material covered, it was exactly the same as the previous exam, complete with random questions pulled out of nowhere (though fewer than before) and a hefty curve. In other words, meh.
Clinical skills was on wed and aside from the 18-line stems in typewriter font with the occasion correct answer still bolded and/or in a different font (okay, only one) and questions about treatment strategies (a few) and required question about Reiter Syndrome (can't see, can't pee, can't climb tree - we get it already!) and (alleged) 10 point curve, it was decent. Meh the second.
Pharm, on friday, managed to overcome the horridness intrinsic to the material and prove to me once again that this is the best-run department in second year. I maintain my undying love for Dr D and his merry men, though whether or not I choose to act on it depends on what my grade looks like.
Friday night was dinner with DSO at Vasta Baankan, where we split everything and still came away stuffed and happy. Is there any sweeter phrase in English that "compliments of the chef?" If so, I don't want to know. Afterward, Bananas and drinking and good conversation and a nice boy with pretty eyes. What more could I really want?
On a completely unrelated (okay, mostly unrelated) note - my AC is broken again, so I had to move into the other bedroom at my apartment. J - you were entirely right - your room is FREEZING! How did you stand it - even set really low (high?) it's still cold!
Saturday involved renewing my CPR training with 69 of my peers on the floor in Taylor (and no, that's not a euphemism, as much as I'd like it to be), visiting the ICSA cultural show (definitely an improvement on the show I saw back in Term 1, though it would have been hard to be worse).
A couple of train wreck performances (as a general rule, I'd advise practicing your routine at least once as a group before getting on stage. I don't care how sexy it looked when you did it alone in front of the mirror, 15 minutes of uncoordinated step-ball-change + hand-waving with 7 of your closest friends on stage is a bit monotonous to watch), but some genuine talent managed to get through this time around (including B, who sang such a sweet love song to his girlfriend that half the audience spontaneously developed cavities, but he did it so well that I voluntarily listened to it again when I saw the facebook video. Oh, and J + band, who did a pop song that apart from bringing back memories of high school I'd thought were safely repressed was still a lot of fun). And of course, plenty of lame jokes by the emcees and fun acts by people who were plainly enjoying themselves so much that it was almost as much fun to watch (yes D - I'm looking at you and yours'). It's almost enough to make me miss this place when I leave.**
Today was the infamous Clinical Meeting, where we were informed that it doesn't matter which hospital we end up at, but that they'll try to get us where we want to go anyway. In other words, we should stop whining and be glad they don't just randomly assign all of us. But as a result, I'm mainly basing my choices on ValueMD posts and Srav's fantastic advice.
And now it begins again, for the final time!
**Okay, that's a lie. Psych!
03 November 2009
I will not change my test answers
I will not change my test answers.
I will not change my test answers.
I will not change my test answers.
I will not change my test answers.
I will not change my test answers.
I will not change my test answers.
I will not change my test answers.
I will not change my test answers.
I will not change my test answers.
I will not change my test answers.
I will not change my test answers.
I will not change my test answers.
I will not change my test answers.
I will not change my test answers.
I will not change my test answers.
I will not change my test answers.
I will not change my test answers.
I will not change my test answers.
I will not change my test answers.
31 October 2009
From my notes
"An appropriate frequency for timed intercourse is every 2 days, performed within the periovulatory period with more emphasis on intercourse prior to, rather than following, ovulation."
I wonder how they define "emphasis"?
I wonder how they define "emphasis"?
30 October 2009
wow
We got our hospital list today, and suddenly leaving grenada and starting clinicals in the spring seems a lot more real. Also, how in the world am I supposed to decide which hospital to spend the next year at when I've never lived anywhere even vaguely near New York or New Jersey?
29 October 2009
Trapped in TEAM
Please send help. This has to violate the Geneva conventions or something. Cruel and unusual doesn't even begin to cover it.
So TEAM is a mandatory one-day course inflicted upon all 5th termers at SGU with the admirable intent of making us more effective doctors. Unfortunately, we all know what good intentions pave and I'm fairly sure we're already there. I mean, practical practice at c-spine evaluation and ABC's and other aspects of trauma management can be kind of fun at the very least and useful at best, and a hands-on practice session might even have been welcomed by some of us were it to have been organised earlier in the term. However, stuffing 500-odd med students in Bell Hall (capacity: less than that) for 4 hours of robotic lecture complete with outdated blurry videos and interspersed liberally with grammatically-adventurous (to say the least) multiple choice questions isn't really the most motivating way to teach anything, let alone something as important as this seems to be.
Scheduling the entire thing 3 days before exams mean they're lucky anyone's even willing to fake interest long enough to read the questions before filling in the scantron.
Hiring a smug, self-congratulatory "neurosurgeon" who alternates his agonised, robotic mumblings with awkward, poorly-timed jokes and monotone diatribes against OUR taking too long (that is, more than 5 seconds) to answer the questions (because he want to get out early, as he oh-so-professionally told us at the start of all this) means that well, you get the idea.
It was here that my laptop battery died, thanks to the extreme lack of electrical outlets in Bell. First termers - I blame you for getting us kicked out of Charter with its available wireless and in-seat outlets, where I could have actually accomplished something during the final hour of this torture such as completing my CS writeup or kicking S's butt at facebook scrabble. Because of you, I was instead forced to spend the next hour hearing about DSO's adventures at home last week while she was treated for the uterus worms she contracted on Grand Anse Beach during one of her unauthorized extracurricular activities. Because of this, I am scarred for life and will never look at the Grand Anse sand the same way again, for more than one reason.
So TEAM is a mandatory one-day course inflicted upon all 5th termers at SGU with the admirable intent of making us more effective doctors. Unfortunately, we all know what good intentions pave and I'm fairly sure we're already there. I mean, practical practice at c-spine evaluation and ABC's and other aspects of trauma management can be kind of fun at the very least and useful at best, and a hands-on practice session might even have been welcomed by some of us were it to have been organised earlier in the term. However, stuffing 500-odd med students in Bell Hall (capacity: less than that) for 4 hours of robotic lecture complete with outdated blurry videos and interspersed liberally with grammatically-adventurous (to say the least) multiple choice questions isn't really the most motivating way to teach anything, let alone something as important as this seems to be.
Scheduling the entire thing 3 days before exams mean they're lucky anyone's even willing to fake interest long enough to read the questions before filling in the scantron.
Hiring a smug, self-congratulatory "neurosurgeon" who alternates his agonised, robotic mumblings with awkward, poorly-timed jokes and monotone diatribes against OUR taking too long (that is, more than 5 seconds) to answer the questions (because he want to get out early, as he oh-so-professionally told us at the start of all this) means that well, you get the idea.
It was here that my laptop battery died, thanks to the extreme lack of electrical outlets in Bell. First termers - I blame you for getting us kicked out of Charter with its available wireless and in-seat outlets, where I could have actually accomplished something during the final hour of this torture such as completing my CS writeup or kicking S's butt at facebook scrabble. Because of you, I was instead forced to spend the next hour hearing about DSO's adventures at home last week while she was treated for the uterus worms she contracted on Grand Anse Beach during one of her unauthorized extracurricular activities. Because of this, I am scarred for life and will never look at the Grand Anse sand the same way again, for more than one reason.
27 October 2009
Finale the first
Today was my last hospital rotation, thus signaling that we are indeed on the downward slope of this term. For those playing along at home we finished with surgery, meaning that we managed to fit in path, anesthesia, psych, peds, rads, orthopedics, emergency, and surgery into the course but missed such notables as family, IM, and OB-Gyn (not that I'm complaining, mind you. I just think it's interesting how it worked out). If you're wondering, every group got a different variety of rotations, so it was really a luck thing.
Sadly, our surgery rotation was rather lacking in, well, surgeries today. Normally this would drive me out of my mind with boredom as we practiced our H&P's on patient after patient for 3 hours, but as luck would have it, today the floor was playing host to a couple of fairly uncommon cancers for us to see. The second was an older patient with cutaneous lymphoma, visible as multiple growths over the body of different sizes and severities. From what our surgeon told us, it appeared to be affecting a number of the patient's internal organs as well, quite substantially limiting the possible treatments that might actually have an effect.
The first patient had a more localized and more treatable disease, though I'm sure most people would find it harder to deal with as a general rule. Simply put, he had high grade squamous cell carcinoma of the penis, progressed to such a point that the only possible treatment was amputation. Specifically, amputation of "as much as possible" - apparently he'd been ignoring it in hopes it would go away on it's own, and let it get to the point where metastasis was a significant possibility - something that almost never happens (because any guy in his right mind would realize something was wrong long before that should even become an issue, and see the doctor about it!). I won't go into any gruesome details, but you know when you're BBQing really good smokies, and the end kind of pops and bursts out of the smokie skin a bit? It was sort of like that.
In other news, exams are in a week and procrastination has not been my friend. Pathophys isn't terribly frightening, but my pharm strategy of ignoring the hard drugs and hoping they'd magically makes sense before the test doesn't appear to be working. As a result, the next few days are going to be devoted to getting and keeping a number of polysyllabic drugs that all end in "mab" straight.
Sadly, our surgery rotation was rather lacking in, well, surgeries today. Normally this would drive me out of my mind with boredom as we practiced our H&P's on patient after patient for 3 hours, but as luck would have it, today the floor was playing host to a couple of fairly uncommon cancers for us to see. The second was an older patient with cutaneous lymphoma, visible as multiple growths over the body of different sizes and severities. From what our surgeon told us, it appeared to be affecting a number of the patient's internal organs as well, quite substantially limiting the possible treatments that might actually have an effect.
The first patient had a more localized and more treatable disease, though I'm sure most people would find it harder to deal with as a general rule. Simply put, he had high grade squamous cell carcinoma of the penis, progressed to such a point that the only possible treatment was amputation. Specifically, amputation of "as much as possible" - apparently he'd been ignoring it in hopes it would go away on it's own, and let it get to the point where metastasis was a significant possibility - something that almost never happens (because any guy in his right mind would realize something was wrong long before that should even become an issue, and see the doctor about it!). I won't go into any gruesome details, but you know when you're BBQing really good smokies, and the end kind of pops and bursts out of the smokie skin a bit? It was sort of like that.
In other news, exams are in a week and procrastination has not been my friend. Pathophys isn't terribly frightening, but my pharm strategy of ignoring the hard drugs and hoping they'd magically makes sense before the test doesn't appear to be working. As a result, the next few days are going to be devoted to getting and keeping a number of polysyllabic drugs that all end in "mab" straight.
23 October 2009
cinquante
Happy Thanksgiving! Grenadian thanksgiving, that is (obviously, since Canadian thanksgiving already happened, and it is not yet time for the American one). In which we all give our thanks to the noble and self-sacrificing American soldiers who were sent by Jeebus to rescue the people of Grenada from the evil, godless Cubans. Or so I gather. Personally, I give thanks for a 4 day weekend, a turkey dinner, and a birthday party. I also give thanks to the only 50 days left until I go home.
Yes, that's right. 50. Five-zero. And then I'm gone, forever, from this place. Boo-yah.
But first, I have a week to make sense of renal pathophys and cancer drugs and arthritis drugs, which are also cancer drugs except when they're not. Good luck to my homies in 4th term this week - stay calm and it will all be over soon. Well, then it will start up again, but that's another story.
Yes, that's right. 50. Five-zero. And then I'm gone, forever, from this place. Boo-yah.
But first, I have a week to make sense of renal pathophys and cancer drugs and arthritis drugs, which are also cancer drugs except when they're not. Good luck to my homies in 4th term this week - stay calm and it will all be over soon. Well, then it will start up again, but that's another story.
18 October 2009
710
I just paid $710 to sign up to sit USMLE Step 1. Yes, it really costs that much. And no, I have no idea why. That is all.
17 October 2009
Better than Temptation Island
Dear bleached-blond, miniskirted, purposely too-small shirted, braless first term girl and (presumed) boyfriend,
I get it. You're into each other. And you want the world to know. Perhaps this is a new relationship, or maybe you decided years ago while you were still high school sweethearts that it was your destiny to go to med school together and become doctors so that you could moved to africa and help people and change the world together. Maybe you haven't seen each other in hours, or perhaps it just feels that way. Either way, it doesn't matter.
No matter how sexy an environment Taylor hall is (I know, I find the ants an irrestible turn-on too), and no matter how hot and bothered pelvic anatomy gets you (enjoy it while you can - the functional anatomy lecture is truely cringe-worthy), the middle of the aisle of the study hall isn't really an appropriate place for have your tongues down each other's throats. I mean, there's an enclosed alcove not 10 feet from where you are sitting right now. And there's multiple classrooms and at least two walk-in closets in the rest of the building. Heck, it's dark out - you could really just head out to the field if you're in that much of a hurry. The point is, I'm trying to study cancer drugs, and I can't keep my 'mabs and my 'cepts and my 'nibs straight when one of you has your hand down the other one's pants, and the other is giggling madly over your daring/nautiness. Sure, it's entertainment of a level that could make it to a Thursday night television slot, but I have neither the time nor the money to hire a film crew and pitch a new show, and besides - it's been done to death already.
Glad we could have this little chat,
-R
I get it. You're into each other. And you want the world to know. Perhaps this is a new relationship, or maybe you decided years ago while you were still high school sweethearts that it was your destiny to go to med school together and become doctors so that you could moved to africa and help people and change the world together. Maybe you haven't seen each other in hours, or perhaps it just feels that way. Either way, it doesn't matter.
No matter how sexy an environment Taylor hall is (I know, I find the ants an irrestible turn-on too), and no matter how hot and bothered pelvic anatomy gets you (enjoy it while you can - the functional anatomy lecture is truely cringe-worthy), the middle of the aisle of the study hall isn't really an appropriate place for have your tongues down each other's throats. I mean, there's an enclosed alcove not 10 feet from where you are sitting right now. And there's multiple classrooms and at least two walk-in closets in the rest of the building. Heck, it's dark out - you could really just head out to the field if you're in that much of a hurry. The point is, I'm trying to study cancer drugs, and I can't keep my 'mabs and my 'cepts and my 'nibs straight when one of you has your hand down the other one's pants, and the other is giggling madly over your daring/nautiness. Sure, it's entertainment of a level that could make it to a Thursday night television slot, but I have neither the time nor the money to hire a film crew and pitch a new show, and besides - it's been done to death already.
Glad we could have this little chat,
-R
Part Three
Meanwhile, back at the camp, M and I were returning from our minor adventures in Castries. Tired, filthy, and hungry, we immediately scouted out a steakhouse, a spa, and a gelato bar (in that order) within walking distance of our hotel. Plans were made, and within a short course we were gelato'd (passionfruit - is there anything it *doesn't* make delicious?), pedicured (I went with shiny dark green, M choose seafoam to match her sandals), steaked (but not like a vampire so much as a cow. Mmmmmmmmm - best food I've had all term! Who'd have thought we'd find a really good steakhouse in St lucia, of all places?), tiramisu'd and coffee'd (at a little italian place down the road. M decided she NEEDED tiramisu, I was happy with cappuccino, and so we finished the evening off in a fairly pleasant manor.
Our final day of St Lucian excitement dawned bright and obscenely early, as does any dive day. We grabbed some snacks we'd picked up the day before, made hotel-brand coffee in our hotel-brand coffeemaker (yuck), and hiked up the beach to a scary little shack on the sand that had no working phone lines but nevertheless promised us a PADI-certified undersea experience, gloomily speculating as to which of the half-sunken little boats off the beach was to be ours. Luck would be on our side however as the little shack soon became crowded with like-minded young adults, followed shortly afterwards by a perfectly respectable dive boat to ferry us over to the *real* dive shop.
On a completely different side note, M learned the folly of choosing nail polish colours in the dim lighting of a spa. What appeared by the soft glow of indirect lighting to be an understated sort of seafoam green revealed itself in the harsh natural light of day to be a fluorescent shade not seen in public since Saved By The Bell was popular. While it was certainly striking, it wasn't exactly as expected.
I, on the other hand, got lucky. My shiny dark green has remained a shiny dark green under all conditions so far experienced.
Our 2 dives were both fairly shallow, but the water was the clearest I've ever seen and there was plenty of life to look at in the marine park. Tons of barracudas, seahorses, a turtle or 2, lots of eels, some flounder or sole of something similar, and bajillions of the bright-coloured fish that most people only ever see in tanks were enjoying the area that day. No sharks or other charismatic species, but you can't have everything and I was fully satisfied with what we got. Lunch was tuna pizza (a weird but surprisingly tasty caribbean staple), and we were tired enough by the time we got back to the hotel that we spent most of the rest of the afternoon sleeping.
Dinner was once more at the steak house (not as good this time around, but still better than much of what you'd find here in GND - we'd wanted Polynesian but it was closed on Sundays). The end of the evening was spent tooling around, walking around the area, and packing to head back to GND.
The next day we came back to Grenada, and immediately (yeah, right) commenced our attempts at catching up. Odds are 50/50 as to whether it'll happen in the next 56 days.
Our final day of St Lucian excitement dawned bright and obscenely early, as does any dive day. We grabbed some snacks we'd picked up the day before, made hotel-brand coffee in our hotel-brand coffeemaker (yuck), and hiked up the beach to a scary little shack on the sand that had no working phone lines but nevertheless promised us a PADI-certified undersea experience, gloomily speculating as to which of the half-sunken little boats off the beach was to be ours. Luck would be on our side however as the little shack soon became crowded with like-minded young adults, followed shortly afterwards by a perfectly respectable dive boat to ferry us over to the *real* dive shop.
On a completely different side note, M learned the folly of choosing nail polish colours in the dim lighting of a spa. What appeared by the soft glow of indirect lighting to be an understated sort of seafoam green revealed itself in the harsh natural light of day to be a fluorescent shade not seen in public since Saved By The Bell was popular. While it was certainly striking, it wasn't exactly as expected.
I, on the other hand, got lucky. My shiny dark green has remained a shiny dark green under all conditions so far experienced.
Our 2 dives were both fairly shallow, but the water was the clearest I've ever seen and there was plenty of life to look at in the marine park. Tons of barracudas, seahorses, a turtle or 2, lots of eels, some flounder or sole of something similar, and bajillions of the bright-coloured fish that most people only ever see in tanks were enjoying the area that day. No sharks or other charismatic species, but you can't have everything and I was fully satisfied with what we got. Lunch was tuna pizza (a weird but surprisingly tasty caribbean staple), and we were tired enough by the time we got back to the hotel that we spent most of the rest of the afternoon sleeping.
Dinner was once more at the steak house (not as good this time around, but still better than much of what you'd find here in GND - we'd wanted Polynesian but it was closed on Sundays). The end of the evening was spent tooling around, walking around the area, and packing to head back to GND.
The next day we came back to Grenada, and immediately (yeah, right) commenced our attempts at catching up. Odds are 50/50 as to whether it'll happen in the next 56 days.
14 October 2009
IIIII Waaaaant it Thaaaaat Way
Dear Grenada at large,
For three days now, every bus I have ridden (3), stereo I have walked past (2), and random singing student I have encountered (2. Wait, 2? Weird.) has been blasting the greatest boy-band hits of the late 90's. While I appreciate the enthusiasm and I certainly relish the nostalgia this ellicits for my early teen years, experiencing the Backstreet Boys, N'Sync, and 98 Degrees once was enough. I'm not sure what your point was, but rest assured it has been made. Please stop now.
Love,
R
For three days now, every bus I have ridden (3), stereo I have walked past (2), and random singing student I have encountered (2. Wait, 2? Weird.) has been blasting the greatest boy-band hits of the late 90's. While I appreciate the enthusiasm and I certainly relish the nostalgia this ellicits for my early teen years, experiencing the Backstreet Boys, N'Sync, and 98 Degrees once was enough. I'm not sure what your point was, but rest assured it has been made. Please stop now.
Love,
R
12 October 2009
The Return of The Bride of The Son of The St Lucia Trip (Part 2)
Day two found M and I rising bright and early at the crack of noon, toying with a vague idea to the effect of "going shopping, and maybe for a hike or something."
Since all know that morning (okay - afternoon) isn't the best time for planning, we did the dressing thing and headed to Rituals to come up with a plan of attack. Mocha, panini, and a donut or 2 later, we had one - we would take the bus to Castries (the capital city), and go exploring. Sure, it doesn't sound like much, but trust me - for us, that morning, it was a plan worthy of invading Normandy.
M was running low on a prescription, so our first goal was to find a doctor who could see her. It was a Saturday, so we figured we'd drop into a clinic, get the script renewed, fill it at the closest pharmacy, and then get on with the day - how hard could it be?
Stupid question. The bus driver didn't seem to understand the concept of a "medical clinic." Likewise, "doctor's office" got us little more than a blank stare. (Incidentally, buses in St Lucia lack the guy who in Grenada, flags down potential passengers, opens the door, and takes the money - instead, you have to open the door yourself and pay the driver directly. Also, while knocking on the ceiling is an acceptable way to tell the driver that you want to get off the bus in Grenada, in St Lucia it is considered more appropriate to shout to the driver to stop. Small changes, but noticeable). We failed to spot the clinic that we had been promised we'd pass ("no really, you can't miss it." Oddly enough, if was perfectly obvious n the drive back to Rodney Bay), and so ended up in downtown Castries ahead of schedule, still hunting a doctor's office.
1st attempt - directions from a lady at the open market sent us 3 blocks north. Further directions from a well-dressed lady on the street sent us 1 block further north, and 2 blocks west...to a plastic surgeon's office. We tried it anyway - 10 minutes of arguing with the secretary in the lobby (when she could be bothered to tear her eyes away from her soap opera), and M finally got the doctor to tell her in person that he couldn't help her.
2nd attempt - random guy in the lobby sent us 5 blocks east and 2 blocks south, where we wandered around lost for a few minutes before finding the GP's office he was talking about...in a scary back alley...closed.
3rd attempt - a kindly passing policeman told us that all the doctors closed at 1 on Saturdays (it was 1:30 now), and attempted to give us directions to the hospital. We listened attentively, clarified a couple of details, then headed for the market. Screw it - we wanted to spend some money/get some souvenirs/pick up xmas presents for our various friends and relatives.
Sadly however, the market disappointed. Same old useless tourist crap and overpriced clothing as in Grenada, with none of the charm. I DID find a delicious cup of fresh lime juice to drink and a shot glass for my mom's collection, but that was about it. We then attempted to find any or all of the fabulous duty free malls that my map raved about, but they too were closed. On a Saturday? Huh?
Oh, oh course - the first cruise ship of the season isn't due till Monday. How silly of us. We checked out a mall, but half the stores were closed and the rest weren't worth the time to check them out.
A bit more wandering around had us both tired and discouraged, certain that the city core must be larger but unable to figure out where it could be that we hadn't seen yet, so we left town in search of something more interesting to see. At my suggestion, we decided to check out a cemetery I'd noticed on the drive from the airport.
Our cab driver mentioned that it was the largest cemetary on the island, and was actually outgrowing the space they had for it, and it was true - we could see bulldozers off at one end expanding the area. Other than a few minor difernces (burial in concrete boxes semi-above ground makes sense, as it was literally on the beach, but why do most markers list "died/buried" instead of "born/died?"), it was a pretty typical catholic graveyard...until we got to section V:
Buried directly in the sand, no markers - I suspect, but don't know for certain, that this is where the less wealthy go when they die. And I actually kind of prefer it - further along, the bumps smooth out and the only difference between it and the rest of the beach is the wildflowers. I think I'd prefer to be here, actually - at least until the hurricane destroys the shoreline and all the corpses end up drifting off to sea, poisoning the ocean life with the toxic chemicals we inject into our dead.
This seems like a good place to stop - stay tuned for the third and final installment of our story, "In Which M and R Discover That Green is a Matter of Opinion."
Since all know that morning (okay - afternoon) isn't the best time for planning, we did the dressing thing and headed to Rituals to come up with a plan of attack. Mocha, panini, and a donut or 2 later, we had one - we would take the bus to Castries (the capital city), and go exploring. Sure, it doesn't sound like much, but trust me - for us, that morning, it was a plan worthy of invading Normandy.
(Castries)
Stupid question. The bus driver didn't seem to understand the concept of a "medical clinic." Likewise, "doctor's office" got us little more than a blank stare. (Incidentally, buses in St Lucia lack the guy who in Grenada, flags down potential passengers, opens the door, and takes the money - instead, you have to open the door yourself and pay the driver directly. Also, while knocking on the ceiling is an acceptable way to tell the driver that you want to get off the bus in Grenada, in St Lucia it is considered more appropriate to shout to the driver to stop. Small changes, but noticeable). We failed to spot the clinic that we had been promised we'd pass ("no really, you can't miss it." Oddly enough, if was perfectly obvious n the drive back to Rodney Bay), and so ended up in downtown Castries ahead of schedule, still hunting a doctor's office.
1st attempt - directions from a lady at the open market sent us 3 blocks north. Further directions from a well-dressed lady on the street sent us 1 block further north, and 2 blocks west...to a plastic surgeon's office. We tried it anyway - 10 minutes of arguing with the secretary in the lobby (when she could be bothered to tear her eyes away from her soap opera), and M finally got the doctor to tell her in person that he couldn't help her.
2nd attempt - random guy in the lobby sent us 5 blocks east and 2 blocks south, where we wandered around lost for a few minutes before finding the GP's office he was talking about...in a scary back alley...closed.
3rd attempt - a kindly passing policeman told us that all the doctors closed at 1 on Saturdays (it was 1:30 now), and attempted to give us directions to the hospital. We listened attentively, clarified a couple of details, then headed for the market. Screw it - we wanted to spend some money/get some souvenirs/pick up xmas presents for our various friends and relatives.
Sadly however, the market disappointed. Same old useless tourist crap and overpriced clothing as in Grenada, with none of the charm. I DID find a delicious cup of fresh lime juice to drink and a shot glass for my mom's collection, but that was about it. We then attempted to find any or all of the fabulous duty free malls that my map raved about, but they too were closed. On a Saturday? Huh?
Oh, oh course - the first cruise ship of the season isn't due till Monday. How silly of us. We checked out a mall, but half the stores were closed and the rest weren't worth the time to check them out.
A bit more wandering around had us both tired and discouraged, certain that the city core must be larger but unable to figure out where it could be that we hadn't seen yet, so we left town in search of something more interesting to see. At my suggestion, we decided to check out a cemetery I'd noticed on the drive from the airport.
Our cab driver mentioned that it was the largest cemetary on the island, and was actually outgrowing the space they had for it, and it was true - we could see bulldozers off at one end expanding the area. Other than a few minor difernces (burial in concrete boxes semi-above ground makes sense, as it was literally on the beach, but why do most markers list "died/buried" instead of "born/died?"), it was a pretty typical catholic graveyard...until we got to section V:
Buried directly in the sand, no markers - I suspect, but don't know for certain, that this is where the less wealthy go when they die. And I actually kind of prefer it - further along, the bumps smooth out and the only difference between it and the rest of the beach is the wildflowers. I think I'd prefer to be here, actually - at least until the hurricane destroys the shoreline and all the corpses end up drifting off to sea, poisoning the ocean life with the toxic chemicals we inject into our dead.
This seems like a good place to stop - stay tuned for the third and final installment of our story, "In Which M and R Discover That Green is a Matter of Opinion."
08 October 2009
Patron Saint of the Blind
The short version: we traveled, we played, and now we're back.
The long version:
We left on friday at the entirely unDOYCly hour of 6am aboard Liat flight whatever to St Lucia.
A couple of hiccups in transit (including sitting on the runway for close to an hour while we waited for some lady to first show up, then demand that half the plane switch seats to accomodate her need to sit near her children, and then for the pilot/whoever to realize that we didn't have the necessary paperwork to take off), but they are always expected with Liat and we made it to the island more or less on schedule. Found a cab, found our hotel, found breakfast (overcharged on two of the above, but not excessively so), and found a taxi tour of the island, curtesy of some guy who wasn't named Lloyd.
Not-Lloyd took us most of the way around the west side of the island, introducing us to such sites as The Place Where Part Of The Superman Movie But Not The New One Was Filmed,
The Bay From Doctor Dolittle But Not The One With Eddie Murphey,
A Shop He Knows With Good Homemade Bread,
and Don't Forget To Tip Your Tour Guide (we did. Forget, that is).
Back to the hotel, eventually. M was on antibiotics so no drinking for her. In the dual interest of being a good friend and saving money, I joined her in sobriety and we decided to get Indian for dinner. It was...interesting. Tasty - yes. And it looked exactly right. But there was no spice at all. It was the blandest of bland curry I've ever tasted. Luckily, the waitress found us some hot sauce to dump in the curry, making it more appropriately spicey. Crisis averted!
Following dinner, we went for a walk around Rodney Bay, decided that the clubs all looked lame, made plans to skip diving the next day in favour of exploring on foot, and discovered an italian restaurant that, while closed, promised us Tirimisu if we came back the following day.
General thoughts on the island:
-It's so clean! And prosperous! If they can do it, why can't Grenada?
-The pidgeons here are prettier than Grenada's
-Water is cheaper! Coffee is more expensive...wait - hey, a Rituals!
-Hey! This Rituals actually has donuts! And good food. Is something wrong?
-No. Nothing's wrong. They just know how to keep tourists happy.
-Ooh...Gelato. Closed?! Boo. Will return tomorrow.
Stay tuned for part 2 of our St Lucia Adventure: In Which Our Heros Discover The Beach of The Dead And An Amazing Steakhouse.
The long version:
We left on friday at the entirely unDOYCly hour of 6am aboard Liat flight whatever to St Lucia.
A couple of hiccups in transit (including sitting on the runway for close to an hour while we waited for some lady to first show up, then demand that half the plane switch seats to accomodate her need to sit near her children, and then for the pilot/whoever to realize that we didn't have the necessary paperwork to take off), but they are always expected with Liat and we made it to the island more or less on schedule. Found a cab, found our hotel, found breakfast (overcharged on two of the above, but not excessively so), and found a taxi tour of the island, curtesy of some guy who wasn't named Lloyd.
Not-Lloyd took us most of the way around the west side of the island, introducing us to such sites as The Place Where Part Of The Superman Movie But Not The New One Was Filmed,
(Diamond Falls)
(Marigot Bay)
A Shop He Knows With Good Homemade Bread,
(M,or as I like to call her, Double-Stuf Oreo. Don't Ask)
and Don't Forget To Tip Your Tour Guide (we did. Forget, that is).
(Volcano!)
Back to the hotel, eventually. M was on antibiotics so no drinking for her. In the dual interest of being a good friend and saving money, I joined her in sobriety and we decided to get Indian for dinner. It was...interesting. Tasty - yes. And it looked exactly right. But there was no spice at all. It was the blandest of bland curry I've ever tasted. Luckily, the waitress found us some hot sauce to dump in the curry, making it more appropriately spicey. Crisis averted!
Following dinner, we went for a walk around Rodney Bay, decided that the clubs all looked lame, made plans to skip diving the next day in favour of exploring on foot, and discovered an italian restaurant that, while closed, promised us Tirimisu if we came back the following day.
General thoughts on the island:
-It's so clean! And prosperous! If they can do it, why can't Grenada?
-The pidgeons here are prettier than Grenada's
-Water is cheaper! Coffee is more expensive...wait - hey, a Rituals!
-Hey! This Rituals actually has donuts! And good food. Is something wrong?
-No. Nothing's wrong. They just know how to keep tourists happy.
-Ooh...Gelato. Closed?! Boo. Will return tomorrow.
Stay tuned for part 2 of our St Lucia Adventure: In Which Our Heros Discover The Beach of The Dead And An Amazing Steakhouse.
29 September 2009
Spoke too soon
Pharm grades are up, and I am most definitely NOT a happy camper.
Okay, I did fine. But I failed to rock it, and as such I am disappointed. If only I had a trip to some tropical paradise (that isn't Grenada) planned for the near future to take my mind off of this...
Oh, wait. I do. I feel much better now.
Okay, I did fine. But I failed to rock it, and as such I am disappointed. If only I had a trip to some tropical paradise (that isn't Grenada) planned for the near future to take my mind off of this...
Oh, wait. I do. I feel much better now.
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