gimmee the drugs, man

I’ve been sick for a stinkin’ month.  My usual prescription is rest and the occasional ibuprofen.  But today, the light bulb went off, albeit a slow-to-warm fluorescent, when I realized that I was actually getting worse instead of better AND that I’ll be flying in two weeks and a couple of days.  aggggghhh!

No respiratory thing to start a trip on  a pressurized craft!  No, no, no!   The thought of my poor old sea-level ears and lungs being pressurized to 6,000 feet fills me with dread!  Gimmee the dang drugs, man!  (My physician’s assistant, who only sees me when I’m dead or dying or if I have to get refills of happy pills, actually had an appointment this afternoon and I got the drugs, man!)

The last time I went to Europe I had pneumonia.  It was a grand ski vacation for three weeks to Austria and Switzerland.  I tried to ski (telemark), but I was in pretty bad shape for a while, so spent a fair amount of time riding the narrow-gauge rail a little way down the hill to the baths.  Which, of course, I loved!

The group I went with was a bunch of downhill ski patrollers I associated with in my capacity as a backcountry ski patroller.  My dear friend Dolly, who was not a patroller, went too and we were partners in escapades and curious adventures.  One non-skiing day, the whole group went on bus tour down the mountain and on the way back up, Dolly and I decided we should get off at the baths.

Well.  We were in Switzerland.  I spoke basic French, a smattering of Spanish, and pretty good Chinese.  (I could also say mit schlage in German, which means with whipped cream, but I couldn’t find a way to comfortably or helpfully toss it into the conversation.)  Dolly spoke Spanish fluently.

You should have heard the two of us faking it in French, English, and Spanish to ask the driver to please let us off at the place where we could catch the narrow-gauge.  I probably threw in some Chinese because my brain gets all bollixed up with all the languages floating around.  I digress.  (Cue Eddie Izzard dancing.)  Our busload of buddies ended up cheering for us –and the driver–  as we stepped off at the correct place!

On our way to Europe from Anchorage, we stopped over in Copenhagen, which I thought was quite fabulous!  We had about 24 hours there and I planned to make use of that time, jet-lag be damned (and very real!).  Dolly and I decided to find our way to Roskilde, the site of the Viking Ship Museum.  We’re both adventurous and have that attitude that carries us wherever we want to go.  We knew we could catch a train, so planned to trundle off to the station.

The others in the group, I think there were 9 others, decided that might be fun, but not a one of them was interested in finding the way.  Keep in mind that everyone else in the group was a tough downhill ski patroller–they see broken bones, blood, contusions, all the icky stuff, whereas we backcountry folks tended to see avalanches and the occasional stabbed-himself-with-his-pointy-pole stuff.  Well, there was that one guy who dropped dead, but that’s for another story.   (Eddie Izzard again dances in my head!  la la la, where was I?)

Nobody else spoke a language other than English either, so I imagine it was kinda daunting.  The group of us started walking to the train station, Dolly and I in the lead, reading the Danish signs (how?) and the 9 others following in a duckling-train behind us.  Standing at stoplights was particularly amusing — the Other 9 would mill closely around Dolly and me, clearly not willing to leave us, so we 11 would stand in a clutch until the light changed, then the duckling-train would chug along again.

Dolly and I bought the tickets for all 11 of us.  The Other 9 stuck close by us on the train ride–what if we had tried to sneak off without them?  How would they get back to Copenhagen without us?  How would they find the hotel?  gasp!  (Lots of folks speak fluent English there, including the ticket seller at the train!)

At Roskilde, we walked in a duckling pack until I thought I would scream.  I am an independent sort and require a level of independence of those around me.  When we finally got down to the water and the museum, I ducked out on ’em and wandered around the museum that I had wanted to see, to experience, without a single quacking duckling in my wake.

Then it was time to go get the train back to the big city and we did the duck walk dance again.

That was a grand trip.  I still have the souvenir sweatshirt from les bains de Val d’Illiez where I spent so much time soaking away the pneumonia!  (The baths are MUCH fancier now than when we were there!)

My first stop on my Italy trip will be in a tiny village called Bagni di Lucca.  Bagni means baths.  Yep, I’m going to soak myself in the baths again.  How cool is that?!

© No Stealing!  That’s what the little c in the circle means!
© lahgitana and Rockin’ the Purple, 2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to lahgitana and Rockin’ the Purple with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
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15 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. teeceecounsel
    Feb 06, 2012 @ 23:34:33

    Get fit quick to keep rocking your trips! Wishing I could flow with more than just English. Enjoy!

    Reply

    • lahgitana
      Feb 07, 2012 @ 09:34:04

      I love that line! Thank you! And welcome! We have a bit of fun here!

      It’s worth it to learn just a few words in another language–we heard many different languages at home because my parents were multilingual. I learned to count in German as a child… anywa-a-a-a-a-a-y, I digress as usual, learn the name of a fun food in any other language and it will make you grin!

      Reply

  2. Kathryn McCullough
    Feb 07, 2012 @ 03:57:34

    Sounds amazing! If I had any money at the moment, I would try to tag along with you–but the virtual journey will have to suffice. Can’t wait to hear every damn detail, my friend!
    Hugs,
    Kathy

    Reply

  3. nadbugs
    Feb 07, 2012 @ 04:11:10

    I am so glad to hear about the state of your health — I was wondering whether you’d just got better, or were doing that gutting-it-out thing. Heck, drugs in this kind of situation work to get you over the hump and then we can go back to doing the sensitive-listening thing instead of the sledgehammer-nuke strategy. Yay you. And I loved this post every word otherwise. I went to that Roskilde museum and dadgummit gal you are making me want to go back to Europe. Maybe one day before I turn up my toes I will. But as you are aware and thank you very much for staying with me, home is where the action is happening for me right now and what an action it is. So do be the excellent pal you are and make sure to say everything that’s in your Eddie Izzard brain re this upcoming trip, before during & after. Vicariosity lives!

    Reply

  4. lahgitana
    Feb 07, 2012 @ 09:40:48

    I’m all for vicariosity! And droning on and on!

    Isn’t that one amazing museum, Bean? My roots are in Denmark, so the experience was especially meaningful.

    Yep, the PA knows me too well and said something like, “Yes, I know you and drugs.” She did grin, at least! (Sledgehammer! Wasn’t that a song by Peter Gabriel? But I can’t wait to feel better!)

    Oh yes, your stories of the Fangdango and the Bugs have the detail I crave and makes it easy to follow along. It’s Thursday for the big cat nose-to-nose?

    Reply

    • nadbugs
      Feb 07, 2012 @ 18:20:09

      If the creek don’t rise and the V*T gives the go-ahead re contagion. We’re counting down. But we have seen many lift-offs become call-offs over there at Cape Canaveral and so over here we are not too sure of O-rings and booster-rockets and all like that. Can you tell I spent way too long today doing my taxes and pondering eviction statutes? What a life. Not. Maybe I should go to Europe now rather than later. That was an amazing museum. If I remember right. About a million years ago, in the museum that is the vaults of my brain so-called. But I digress. To quote a pal.

      Reply

      • lahgitana
        Feb 07, 2012 @ 19:29:46

        Digression is the stuff of life!

        The vaults of the brain can be interesting, which you know that I know!

        Let us hope that the v-e-t says all is OK with Fangie and that Thursday is a go. !!

        Reply

  5. heretherebespiders
    Feb 07, 2012 @ 11:34:01

    Ein svei tri… Well, I never said I could read numbers in German… Good idea to take the drugs now and get the yuck out of your head! I’ve been reduced to tears of pain with pressure in my head on a flight, more than once. Loved following along on your previous trip – I just know I’ll love to hear how the Italy trip goes!

    Reply

    • lahgitana
      Feb 07, 2012 @ 12:40:11

      Yeah–I was slow on the uptake the last FOUR weeks, but I’m with the program now!

      I can’t wait to land and run to an internet cafe! Well, maybe, if I have time before my train!

      Reply

  6. Dorcas
    Feb 07, 2012 @ 19:20:30

    God! You crack me up. I completely understand the ducklings in museums experience, and how annoying it can be. I usually just want to go through the spaces alone with my senses tuned to what I am seeing or reading, and then share my impressions afterwards. On the other hand I love sharing the beer and “whipped cream” with my fellows. Have a great time over there.

    Reply

    • lahgitana
      Feb 07, 2012 @ 19:32:28

      Yeah, I slipped away in the museum and actually have NO memories of being with the Other 9 there, just Dolly, and she was wandering at her pace, too!

      Yes, the sharing later was good, but holy cow, I ain’t in charge folks! >:- D No wonder I’m going alone this time around–no herding, no questions, no nuthin’ except me being lost!

      Reply

  7. bonesdiary
    Feb 10, 2012 @ 01:23:12

    I’m not much of a traveller, I get car sick going to the petshop 3 miles away, but from what I’m told the only German you’ll ever need is “ein bier bitte” and “habenzei schnapps?”

    Reply

    • lahgitana
      Feb 10, 2012 @ 09:08:16

      mit schlage?! >:-D

      as prep for the trip I write about in this essay, my father taught me how to ask for a hefeweizen!

      ah, yes, the important stuff!

      Reply

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