As always, traveling has been eventful! The short version of the last month goes like this:
Race the Syracuse Race Weekend and get taken out on the last turn of the criterium at around 30 miles per hour, resulting in road rash from my foot to my butt and elbow too. I spent almost the whole week after that on the couch before I started gimping around more. Luckily by the time I headed to New York City to stay with Jules and attend the ATHGO International World Forum on Global Climate Change at the United Nation, the deep cut (to the bone) on my ankle was nicely scabbed over and healing. Unfortunately, after all the walking I did in New York, it started swelling up again. I thought it might just be that it had started bleeding internally again, but as it turned out over the next 24 hours, I had gotten an infection.
Another unfortunate turn, I sort of had a head cold the last two days of the conference and forgot to bring my Eurorail pass with me to the conference on Friday. As it was, I planned on leaving directly from the conference to catch a shuttle to Newark for my flight to Rome. About 3:30 pm I realized the pass was still in the Bronx, so I had to duck out of the conference early. From 42nd street, I took 2 trains down to 14th to get the keys from Jules. Then another 2 trains took me up to 238th to get the pass, then another 2 trains took me all the way back down to 42nd street to catch the shuttle. Despite being a geographer, every time I exit a New York subway I immediately walk in the wrong direction, making all this take longer and hurt more than it had to. 3 hours after leaving the U.N. and rushing nonstop, I finally boarded the shuttle to Newark. Then the flight was delayed 3 hours anyway. So it goes.
So I got into Rome late afternoon instead of at noon, requiring me to pay extra for the faster Eurostar train (it really is fast!) to Florence. It was already 9:00 pm when I got there, and as I could not find any bus route maps or information and walking was starting to get really painful, I bit the bullet and took a taxi to the campground in Fiesole for 35 euros. Finally, I put my stuff in the cabin and had dinner at the swimming pool with a great view of nighttime Florence in the valley below.
And the infection continues... by the end of the workshop on Monday I was sure it was indeed infected and decided to go to the Pharmacist. He was very distracted by my purple toenail (marathon legacy) and purple shin (interestingly colored scar from road rash) but in due time realized the real problem was my balooning foot and festering laceration. Then he brought out his (HOT) daughter to translate for him that I should go up the street to the doctor.
The Medico: this was great. Reminiscent of Mexican and Tanzanian doctors for sure. The office consisted of a door at the street with a plaque (plague?) saying something-or-other Medico. The door led to a straight short hallway lined with chairs and Italian magazines with four doors to the side. I joined the queue, 4th, and waited for about 45 minutes to see the doctor. I thought he would know English, being an educated health professional, but I was wrong. He was also confused by the purple toenail and purple shin, but got to the problem quickly, and through gestures and mutterings we communicated that I did not break the ankle, I did have an infection, and he would call to the pharmacist to get me amoxycillin. So, back to the pharmacist.
The pharmacist put on rubber gloves, placed a stool covered with a cardboard box in front of me and indicated that I should remove my shoe and put my foot on the stool. I was thinking that this could not possibly be good, but complied. He disinfected me, lathered me with iodine (more purple!) and bandaged me up. To my dismay, the only way to secure the bandage was the same elastic netting crap they gave me in Mexico. Damn Mexican bandages! The bandage always slips off with those. Anyway, I got my drugs, disinfectant, antibiotic cream and pills all for 30 euro with no charge from the doctor. Then the pharmacist insisted on driving me back to the camp so that I would not have to walk on my foot. Nice! Italians really are quite helpful, despite what the stereotypes say.
Moving on, the ankle is almost completely healed up now and I'm catching a train to Milan and Barcelona tomorrow evening. The plan for Spain is to wander around, speak Spanish, try to put shoes on and rent a bike, maybe go to Mallorca (islands in the Mediterranean) and read some of the U.N. research publications I picked up.
And the Statue of David is, in one word, magnificent. It's a close call between the statue and the food and Chianti wine here, though. :)
