Thanks... but ewwww!

           Okay, so I got a call from the doctor today. Yay! She wanted to talk in person. This tends to be a good idea when you have limited knowledge of a language. So off to the 'urgencia' I went.
           I thought she had more information on my neurology appointment. Maybe she even had the name of the neurologist I would be seeing. At the very least, the neurology department phone numbers. Something to that effect. No. Wrong again.
           I know it's shocking that I was wrong. I am usually so right about everything! Heh, heh. When I arrived, however she was right there smiling. Unfortunately, I ended up waiting because as per usual my special brand of luck has continued on in Spain! An emergency arrived right behind me. Poor sod, there was no reason he had to have problems because I have bad luck. Sorry dude.
          After a short wait, the doctor came out to me in the waiting area. She sat down and told me that she had a niece with epilepsy and the first thing she thought when she woke up was, 'Kimberly!' Huh, imagine that?! Know that this conversation is spoken oddly. She speaks in very small bits of English. I speak in almost all Spanish. Somehow, this works.
          Then she got to the point. She called me to tell me she had an idea to help me in case of emergency. Since she knows I'm having problems getting a neurology appointment and am changing the timetable of my medications based on an educated guess. I am just hoping for the best until I can see a neurologist. How liberating... right! Right.
          She wanted to offer me the equivalent of Valium. I have had it prescribed before to break a cycle of seizures (what was supposed to be taken in 5 days lasted me 5 years). For me, it's horrible stuff. I just feel tired, bored and disinterested in everything. That is a crappy feeling if you ask me. You don't have to, I'm just sayin'. Back then I had an hour to an hour and a half of warning before a seizure. It was possible for me to use it as a quick fix (my term for it, probably not something a doctor would appreciate), back then. Now, by the time it is obvious I am going to have a seizure, I am completely out of my mind, doing weird things and NOT making good decisions. I told her that most likely I wouldn't think to take it.
           She told me about her niece again (a kid) and she keeps it just in case. She has only had to use it once, but she has it, and it makes everyone feel safer. Then it occurred to me, that if my boyfriend and his family knew exactly where it was they could force it on me.
          Having said that, the scenarios I get in my head of that happening are quite...... interesting to say the least. Funny really, in the way that only someone who knows that, it is what it is, accepts it, and is aware that you have to keep the humour to survive, knows funny to be. Maybe ridiculous is a better word.
          What makes it even funnier (or ridiculous) is what I found out next. It comes in the form of a stick, which you crack open (this is point that I start picturing one of the greenish glow sticks... nice, right!). After you crack it.... wait for it.... you put it in your butt. Yeah, that's what I said. So now the images that are floating in my head are completely insane. Seriously? How am I going to do that if my mind isn't even working right.
          Now is when I remember the conclusion I had come to earlier. It will really have to be my boyfriend or his family or friends that will have to give me the meds. But NOW  there is a whole new level  to the meds they would possibly be giving me. What if it's not my boyfriend (he's seen my hairy arse), but his family. Jeez. How many people do I tell this to? How do I approach them with this information? "Hi, at some point you might have to stick Valium up my butt, here's how you will know when it's necessary...." Ughhhh.
         My boyfriend doesn't think this is funny. I know he is right, it's not actually funny. In reality. However, if I intend to remain a rational person for the rest of my life, things like this need to be laughed at and taken with a grain of salt. It just is what it is. Hopefully, I will never have to use it. That would be the best scenario. If I do, I am glad I won't really be aware of what is going on. However I am already sorry for whomever has to be 'the one' to come to my rescue. That's probably the most polite way to put it. It sucks to be that person. Butt meds or not.
          So that was my day so far, I've not even had lunch or my siesta yet. What more will the day bring? We shall see. Let's hope for something less repulsive and more acceptably funny.

          I would like, however to respectfully thank my doctor. I was not only impressed with her dedication (calling me on a Saturday). She had no responsibility to call me at all. She also was extremely patient and good at trying to work with our language barrier. And the best part, as hokey as it sounds (but I am a big, sentimental sap at heart) was she couldn't stop herself from reaching out and giving me a hug before I left.

kimbersfrog

A knowledge flash...or just another thing I noticed...

              I don't mean to be repetitive. However, as anyone who knows me can tell you, I am. Actually, my guess is I've just told a bunch of people who know me something they already know!! Case in point. Heh.
             I have made yet another self-discovery. True. And, no it is not earth shattering, news breaking, and I am pretty sure it wouldn't even make it into the Sun (maybe, with a lot of fancy writing, but I digress).
              I have grown accustomed to not being able to communicate as well as I like. When I am more relaxed about it, I do much better. On occasion. I certainly understand better when I am less worried about whether or not I will be intelligible.
             There are the times when I know it is desperately important that I get it right. I have to be comprehensible. Also, I need to understand completely, what I've been told. This it seems, is an insurmountable task! For the moment.
             Right now, I am not at that level of the language. Unfortunately, I am highly aware of this. In a social situation, or at a store, I am quite happy to make a dork of myself. Have I mentioned before, it usually works to my advantage. I am good at embarrassing myself and then recovering because of whatever inane thing I've done. Here, I manage to do it with language most of the time. Although wearing white socks is pretty uncool and a dead give away that I'm not from here. But really, let's face it, I have never been a fashion queen, and I think the language thing would give me away if the socks didn't.

            Being aware of my capabilities, or lack there of can be good. It can help you progress. It's the occasions in which I feel I have to be understood, and to understand that this knowledge is a problem. That is when the tension increases. When the tension is higher I can't concentrate as well. My Spanish becomes all sorts of weird. Well, weirder than usual. And I understand virtually nothing, unless someone has the patience of a saint and will talk to me very slowly and reword things a million times until I can actually grasp what they are saying.

            Today, one of these situations occurred. I had to go get my prescriptions renewed. I also had to find information on getting a specialist. This was my second time around, so this time, I was determined to get it right. I took about 15 minutes with the receptionist. Now that I think about it, that isn't really that long. It seemed like forever. She was incomparably patient, and exceedingly nice. One thing down. All I needed was the prescriptions, with some kind of provision so I wouldn't have problems from the mean pharmacy woman again, and I would be all set.
            Now, I would like to point out, that with the receptionist, I was completely tense. My Spanish sounded more like I was having those verbal myclonic jerks I get at times. My comprehension level you ask? Well, I was leaning over the desk, to listen. It was as if I thought that hearing her louder was going to change the language she was speaking. I guess that is why some people feel the need to shout at people with accents or speaking a different language. Same premise, only in reverse. (Oh, you know who you are!)
            Back to point. My ears are tuned to the opening doors like a cat's nose to tuna. I have to make sure I hear my name being called. Hearing your name called in a noisy room in an accent is not as easy as you would think. Today, I had no problem, but I think I've gotten used to the sound of my name here. Low and behold, when I got in the room, my new doctor, said she spoke a little English. Yay!!
            She spoke very little English as advertised. She didn't understand me much in English. I was too quiet, and too complicated. Fair enough. I ended up speaking to her in Spanish. Almost entirely. She spoke to me in English. Almost entirely. What I learned was, it calmed me. I was able to understand the little she did say in Spanish. I was able to speak. I think knowing I had a back up lifted some of the stress. I was able to just speak.
            It was only a couple hours later that I realized this, but still, I found it at once wonderful and completely useless. There will be plenty of times when I won't have any back up, and I can't just bow to the pressure.
           It reminded me of what I learned in the previous visit. The last visit, everything was 100 times worse. And the 'thing' everyone tells you about moving to another country that doesn't speak your language... about 3 months in, you have problems... blah, blah. Well it had been a bit over that, and it was all coming to a head that day.
            What I learned that day was because I actually cried a little in the doc-o's office. She was really nice. However after an entire 20 minutes of speaking horribly with her in Spanish (and 15 minutes of equally bad Spanish with the receptionist earlier), all of the sudden I was capable of Spanish that was beyond my current level. I have had a few times like that.
           I have a theory. Due to a mix of stress, lack of sleep, not having had lunch yet, being near my period, and/ or being upset enough to cry, my medication could not work as well. Usually what happens if the meds aren't working so well is I have some flinches, or a seizure, etc. What about the times when all those things come together and I have no seizure activity? Maybe the meds are still compromised. And maybe I am just able to think a little clearer, a little quicker. I don't really know, and honestly, I thought I was clear to begin with. (shut it!) Maybe I could be clearer. I don't know. I never will.

         So I learned two things. Both to do with when I seem to excel (in a manner of speaking) in Spanish. One is something I can and should try to recreate some of the time, but not all of the time. The other I should avoid like the plague.

        just life I guess

kimbersfrog

If i've misinterpreted... please don't burst my bubble!!!

           I mean what I wrote in the title. If I have misread the signs or underestimated the ability to be polite of others, I could be about to write a complete misrepresentation of the truth. However, we all have our own way of looking at things. I usually think we should try looking at things from as many other points of view as possible, especially when they are extremely different from our own. It probably won't change our minds, but it might give us a bit of empathy towards other human beings that are different from ourselves. In this case however, if I have missed clues that I should have seen, ehh... I don't want to know. I would prefer to see it only my way.
            In my household, we had very good meals. I don't mean expensive or healthy. What I mean however, is our meals were tasty! My mom can cook. Anything! And my dad, he can grill, mash potatoes like there is no tomorrow, and make some mean french toast! (We only recently found out he can make a wine reduction sauce... however we don't actually know if it was edible, maybe we'll get him to make it for someone who has taste buds someday!) The long winded point I'm making here, is in our wonderful dinners, we had a lot of garlic. We didn't have it in every meal, but we ate it a lot. Although I was a picky eater as a child (and teen), if memory serves, I never had a problem with garlic.  
           I knew from early on that people had garlic breadth, and apparently garlic farts (although, I wasn't really able to differentiate those from the other horrifying odors that emanated in our house... oh, well, we had dogs, right). I didn't ever actually think about the fact that I might smell like garlic until after college. And I just realized that now, as I am writing this. Huh.
        The restaurant I worked in closed for a couple hours during the day. During this time I could have anything I wanted to eat for free! One day, I had the chicken garlic dish. Have you ever had that? Did you ever notice (especially buffet style), that the chicken looks an awful lot like garlic cloves? I must have eaten somewhere between 6 to 8 garlic cloves that day.

        I had this great roommate, a friend of mine. She might remember even better than I how many cloves I eventually concluded that I ate. The reason she might remember, is because we were going to a pool tournament that night. I had gotten home and showered right away. When she got home, she was in the bathroom, I don't know... doing her hair, she like me doesn't do much in the way of preparation. She doesn't need to. Anyway, I came in, and before I even got to do whatever it was I came in to do...she said, "Did you have garlic today?" and I answered affirmatively, but still didn't really think I had that much, and I think I might have said that. Her response was, "You might want to shower again." (or something very close to that). I knew, it must have been bad. So I showered again. I could see it on her face when I came downstairs, my stench had preceded me. The garlic was emanating from my sweaty-arse pores!

        We went to the pool tournament. It was going as a small local pool tournament goes, slow, friendly, and strangely captivating. Somewhere in the middle of it there was an old man who thought it was time to show everyone his potato shooter. No, that is not a euphemism. So we all went into the parking lot across the street, and watch him shoot potatoes. It  was odd. There were only four of us in our twenties. The rest were regulars of that bar I think, and quite old. After 15 minutes or so of watching an old guy shoot potatoes (which was actually much more entertaining than it sounds), we went inside again to resume the tournament. About three quarters of the way through one of my games I walked by Mr. Potato Shooter to take my next shot. Just after I passed him, he says, "Hey, did someone eat garlic?"
         That was the night I began to realize that I might be emanating odors other than the air that escapes the cracks! Heh,heh. (Still funny, at almost 39) That is also when I noticed the societal preoccupation with garlic stink in America. I already knew, people had issues with odor, even I did. I just didn't realize that there was an objection to garlic. I really shouldn't say America, when I was in Britain and Ireland it seemed no different there. I was used to it by then. And frankly, I didn't care.
       The last disheartening encounter I had in the states with garlic was at a wedding I went to. After the wedding we went to a bar. They had bloody marys. I've never had a bloody mary so good. It was even better than mine and my mom's (sorry mom). I couldn't quite place the ingredient, but I wasn't really trying. There was a lot going on. There was a girl from England there who I befriended. She was very funny, real- it was refreshing. She said, "Oh is that a bloody mary? I haven't had one in a long time. Is it good?" I told her it was the best I had ever had. She went and got one. She too was impressed. About 15 minutes later, she said,"Is that garlic in there?" It hit me, that's what made the drink so..damn..good! Then I told her so. She went and brought hers back, then got a different drink. She did have a boyfriend there, can't blame her. I am pretty sure I would choose garlic over a man more often than not. Now I don't have to.
       Now I'm in Spain. The first day I was here I tried Gazpacho for the first time. It's brilliant, I highly recommend it. My boyfriend was really happy that I liked something so very definitely Spanish, he told everyone the first time I met them. I think he also knew it was one word I would recognize, that way I would feel like I was following the conversation.
       The reaction everyone had was the same, laughing and the word 'ajo'. Ajo means garlic. At first I thought they were giving him a jab because his girlfriend was going to have smelly breadth, or wasn't going to mind his smelly arse. Then I started noticing how much garlic is in the diet here. And I began to pay attention to the reaction to me or my boyfriend after having a meal with enough garlic to fell a horse. There was NO reaction. This could mean people are just extremely polite. However, even his friends didn't say... damn you stink. Not his family either. It is possible that culturally it's not appropriate. But, all signs point to garlic not being one of the odor issues here. People still dislike, sweaty people being too close or smelly feet, but no one seems to mind garlic.
       Obviously this has rocked my world. I am so happy about this, you can't even imagine. I never actually stopped eating garlic. I did however start at some point to worry about my odor. This used to irritate me greatly. I'm less worried about others catching a whiff of my very own personal wind.....probably because I think it's a little funny, and.. they really are quite nasty.
      This is why I say that if I have misread the signs, or am deluded in any way, I am good with that. Please, don't ruin this for me. There are so many cold hard truths in the world that we have no choice but to pay attention to. This one, is fine to believe in whether I'm wrong or right.

 Good night, and if you live anywhere near me, you might want to close your window... mine is open!

kimbersfrog

The workplace, scissors, a nose- a primitive incident

I must, ABSOLUTELY must, dedicate this story to a friend, who had the misfortune of being with me during this disturbing 'event'....you know who you are.

          This is a story that should have been written long ago. I think anyone who has ever worked with anyone can relate to being irritated with their co-workers, even more those that... well, let's say, have "issues" with a co-worker or boss (quite polite, don't you think?), I think YOU might reallllly enjoy this!
          I had a job, oh about 6 or 7 years ago that was my basic default job. I'm good at it and have alot of experience. For me it's a little boring, but I do get to occasionally use my artistic skills, use hand tools, chemicals (that smell oh so nice!), work with customers, sometimes I even get a shot at the power tools (always a bonus). At this job I was lucky enough to not only like my co-worker but also my manager. However.... and it does seem there is always a 'but' or 'however' when it comes to the work place doesn't it?, there was my boss. (There is no point in wasting any effort on his wife, so I won't, enough said) My boss...in all fairness- he is NOT and will never be an innately bad person. He basically is just an ass. Plain. And simple. Again to be fair, I don't actually think he means to be an ass, I just don't think he realizes he is, nor do I think he could help it if he tried. He's never learned how.
          His assdom, as much as you might want it to be... is not the story. Only one of his asinine moments is. And my manager and I were oh soooo lucky to be there, if we weren't, there would BE no story.
          There I am... bored, putting famed picture together after framed picture. There my manager is.... doing the same. Both of us trying to avoid our boss as much as possible, even more so as the day goes on. That day, as quite a few Saturdays he and his wife are going out with friends straight after work. This entails them changing clothes, bickering, huge amounts of aqua net for men (he may have created his very own hole in the ozone), and of course my boss' ever increasing level of anxiety. That part was always fun.
         The more the day went on the more anxious he got. The more anxious he got... the more irrationally irritable at us he got. Ahhhhh, good times, good times!!! (It's a good thing my manager and I had a similar sense of humour and could laugh it off later or I never would have survived) So, you may be getting the picture. That day this was how it was progressing, but it was also not unexpected. We pretty much knew how to avoid the worst.
         What we didn't expect was what came towards the very end. Maybe we should have. I mean for all his rules on appropriateness and what is and isn't professional, the man usually comes in with a stink that is too disturbing to describe. There are many things that should have given us a clue that SOME DAY something like this could happen. But who wants to believe such disturbing things.
          And there we are, still working, my boss rushes up... looks quickly around by my managers tools. He apparently doesn't see what he's looking for. He rushes over to my side, and looks to my tools... still not seeing it. So he asks with a worried look, "Do you know where those little scissors are?"
         This is where I should have blocked his view and said," No, I haven't seen them for a week." Did I do that? Of course not....I didn't even see it coming. How could I have not seen it coming? I still am a little embarrassed by that today. My manager looking on, I show my boss the scissors. He hurriedly grabs them and scuttles down the three stairs, and steps over to the mirror. Now just so you have a clear picture here, my manager and I have a clear close bird's eye view of him from the back (and front due to the mirror). What you probably didn't guess, is that any customer that happens by the back or even middle of the store... can ALSO see him and what he's doing. Keep that in mind.
         He's at the mirror, not even 2 or 3 seconds before he starts trimming his nose hairs. And yes, they were sticking extremely far out of his nose... I'm glad they were being trimmed, finally, but really? In front of everyone? Could he not have done it at home?
Over his sink? With scissors that his EMPLOYEES don't have to use for work?
        Ten minutes later, my manager and I stunned and disgusted. My boss runs up and puts them back on my desk.     He has not cleaned them.     Does he think I don't know that? I just watched him cut his nose hairs out!!!! I know he didn't clean the scissors! I was deeply disturbed at this point, but to the point of such shock that I was finding it kind of funny. My manager as well. Shortly thereafter, my boss and his wife left the store.
         There was something else he did not wash. The sink. Again, I say really? I'm not sure what happened with the scissors, nor do I remember who cleaned the sink... but I'm pretty sure it was not me. Disturbing, yes. Crude, definitely. Vexing possibly. Overall I'd have to pick primitive.
kimbersfrog

My new Tabacs....change is good sometimes.

             
             Sometimes a person gets used to a place. I got used to a certain Tabacs shop. When I first arrived in Spain the key was to slowly get me to buy things on my own. My boyfriend, picked a specific Tabacs store as the first one. I believe he picked it for a reason. I could be wrong, but now that I have been in the area long enough, I think he had a good reason.
             This particular store, was small, friendly and busy. The people who worked there somehow managed to not make me feel like an imbecile for murdering their language. In only three or six words. I've got talent, what can I say! They even fairly quickly started treating me as a regular. They gave me a mix of knowing, surprised, and pleased smiles when I said something new. However, as I mentioned they were always busy.
             I kept thinking, I should try to start a conversation. These are the perfect people to do it with. Unfortunately, as someone who has worked in customer service for a lot of years, that would be cruel and unusual punishment for them. Even if they have the patience of saints. The store is just too heavily travelled.
            There is a Tabacs shop that is very close to our house. Once or twice we went to this place, probably out of forgetfulness more than anything. Recently, I have gone there only if I have had seizure issues and didn't want to stray across too many roads. That is when I realized, I needed to change shops. 
            It wasn't straight away really. They are nice at this store also. They aren't as busy,  due to the placement of the store. The older man is a bit more quiet than the lady that works there. The lady that works there is quite chatty. Each time I went in there she would say something to me. Either, she never remembered that I wasn't good at Spanish, or she overestimated my learning curve. I'll go with the latter! The fact that I didn't come in that much probably had something to do with that.
        Last week however, I was on my way into Barcelona and I stopped for some ciggies. I commented on the day (yes in Spanish). She responded quite quickly in Spanish to me. Low and behold... I understood! And she was charming and funny. Of course I was so shocked I almost couldn't think of anything to say! I managed to utter something understandable but grammatically incorrect out. Then I went smiling and nodding on my merry way! That event made my day!
        While that didn't convince me in full, it did give me a nudge. Today, I really decided. I went there, and she started talking to me, really fast. Oddly I understood. It did take me a couple seconds after she paused for my mind to catch up. But I got it! Then I heard, "Entiendes?" Heh. Of course I said yes, but sometimes I'm a little slow to understand. Imagine what my grammar must have been like if I can't even get it grammatically correct in English!? Moving on, no reason to point out all my faults. Heh, heh. Then she repeated the entire story, with more detail. She told me the parts that went on before I got there, etc. and she said it a little slower. It was awesome! She also had the time to do it.
         I think this is a place to go for learning Spanish. I don't want to sit there all day. Though they do have an incredibly inviting, yet uncomfortable looking chair for customers to sit in. However, if I'm going to buy ciggies anyway, why not learn too? And more importantly, I like her, she's nice.
         I told my boyfriend of my new plan. He thought it was a great idea. Then he told me something I didn't know. He said she knows him and his whole family. She's known him since he was a kid. So, I should tell her who I am. That is more subject matter on a day when there is no conversation happening! 
         Come to think of it, that is probably another reason we didn't go there all that often. I wouldn't have learned anything if it were him, her and I. They would have spoken in Catalan, and I would have heard random words, there would have been hugs multiple times and a ton of smiles would circulate all around. He would receive congrats and maybe a little razzing, I would get called pretty, and my discomfort would increase with every passing second. Until I just wouldn't concentrate anymore.
         This way, I can have the same conversation, equally as genuine, but I will understand it. I will be a participant. That makes all the difference in the world. It's much better when people can talk to you instead of about you, right in front of you. It's not anyone's fault either. They are doing their best to try to include you. Unfortunately I didn't know enough of the language to help them help me. Now I know a little more, which left to my own devices, might make it easier to learn more.
         However, this will not be the thing that helps me quit smoking. Apparently.

kimbersfrog