Easterage, festivalling, and quiet repose..

We've had "overflow guests" - friends who usually stay with a mate came to us, cos the mate's new bathroom is looking very spiffy but has no actual plumbing. Tricky to manage dry showers at the best of times.. our guests spent truly amazing amounts of time (their stamina!!) at the Folk Festival, and in between times ate satisfyingly large quantities of the food I made in a big splurge of cooking on good friday.

We also spent time at the Festival, M more than me. I had no energy thurs/fri/sat morning, thanks to a change-of-weather hed of deth. Honestly, my body is so sensitive I'll have to resort to shorter lists of what isn't a problem, and soon. Weird. The time I spent at the festival was as usual divided about equally amongst music, food and crowd-watching. I'm always amazed at the numbers of middle-aged women who sport the most eccentric and generally rather ugly outfits. I guess it's just that silly-hat-and-mad-stockings kind of vibe which makes it happen. And yes, *I* bought a hat. A rather tame, teal-green crocheted almost-beanie but no pom-pom. I have my limits.

The music I enjoyed the most was a group called Vardos, from Melbourne, which is a trio of gels who play Romanian /Hungarian /Latvian folk on a violin, piano accordion and double-bass. Very good, very clever, and also very funny, because the violinist is a natural clown, and plays up to the music and the crowd quite shamelessly. Fun..

My favourite food was the Spanish potato tortilla, which was served with a pureed salsa of herbs, vinegar and onion. Very, very good. I returned on Monday evening for another serve but sadly they had sold out of every speck of their food. Told you it was good.

Now I am having a quiet couple of days preparing for a colonoscopy on Thursday. Erk. I've never had one before, but have watched (uneasily) as various close friends and rellies have gone through the process. I'm apprehensive but apparently I needn't be. I'm not so sure - it's a very unnatural thing to do, is all I'm saying.

On Friday I hope to go to the coast with the Good Wimmin again, for quite a few days of coastal repose, eating, walking, bonding, textile-age, and probably some well-considered shopping. I think we have enough time to do a day trip if the Wimmin are of a mind to do such a thing. Maybe up to Kiama? Or the blue/black/raspberry farm? We'll see. At least one posh dinner is on the list of must-dos. I'm just looking forward to being near the sea, in the eucalypt forest, and the peacefulness.

We are still mourning our dear Maccy, hearing squiks and seeing shadows. But we are more resigned to his loss now. I go out every day to sprinkle some petals or catnip on his grave, and say hello. Our other cat, Miss Wendy, has taken to sleeping on the bed with us most nights, which we find very comforting. A bed without a cat! Sacrilege. She is no tamer, but during the night can be heard sitting and having a little purr to herself. Nice.

Today, and many days previously, brought to you by the delightful aromas of fresh earth and gardens, thanks to some very good rain over the last 5 days. Even the very dusty plastic cover on the garden table is looking shiny. As for me, I am continuing my love affair with Jo Malone scents. I'm torn, totally torn, between her Amber and Ginger cologne, her Amber and Lavender body cream, and her Vintage Gardenia cream, which is truly, deliciously blissful. Try it soon, lavishly, and see.

Brain-dump, Monday 25th August

[Finally I've found a WiFi cafe near the hotel]... just reading good wishes from many people, who have taken the time to send me/us lovely messages of good health and hugs and gin and humour, and one hilarious story of a huge cat fart - I’m rolling around the bed giggling at that one, thanks Toni!

M has had a rocky few days - yesterday he was very bored and irritated (as was I, a long story behind THAT which might make it into this immortal blog).. today he was fine in the morning, and we decided after seeing the doc [she reported good blood tests but made it clear that she wanted him to stay in until Wednesday morning for further treatment, they want to be QUITE sure that a) his liver is ok, and b) his blood pressure is under control - it’s been up and down so that’s not stable yet]... that we would both have afternoon naps. I had quite a good snooze in spite of a lot of street noise; then got started on umpty phone calls to sort out new bus and hotel bookings. The travel ppls in Tallinn in particular were very impressive, double-checked all my arrangements made over the weekend and even discovered (or organised, I’m really not sure) that there would be no ‘late’ or ‘no-show’ fees. Wunderbar!

But at 7pm M was sounding very pale on the phone; I quickly had my Net fix and then loped over to see him. His fluctuating blood pressure has given him some headaches, and tonight it was very bad. He was upset and worried and anxious and in pain and impatient and irritated and sad.... I held his hand, and nipped out to ‘get a cuppa tea’ for which read ‘take the nurse aside and ask her if he could have something to help with the anxiety’ ... she (Xenia) is a very good nurse; she’s been the only one who’s stopped in just to chat and see that he’s ok for little things.

[Here is a rundown on Russky/American Klinik praktices - no changing of ze bed or towels since M was admitted; much less attention to what I consider to be good antiseptic practices... the nurses don’t take away rubbish of any kind (including the umpteen little pill cups and bits of gauze/tape/needle cover bits); they don’t tidy the bed and make the sheets smooth again; no attention to if M has enough water; no waterproof wrapping over the bandages on his wrists to help him shower (he’s had cannulas in both wrists, cos the first arm vein packed up after 24 hours; it was moved, then moved back, the poor man is pretty sore now)... I guess we could make more fuss and perhaps get more care, but it seems not only a big effort, but rather ungrateful. Yesterday was especially difficult because M’s nurse had no English, which was very trying for him when he was asking for help with a headache, and then trying to tell the nurse that it was no better..]

Tonight he had had extra b/p meds, but had a bad headache and was really not himself. He had a shot of something, then a godly doktor arrived - he patted M’s hand; gripped his shoulder in a manly sort of way, and assured him that there is nothing badly wrong and that he was NOT to worry and all would be better in the morning, including the problem of the fluctuating blood pressure. M was briefly cheered by this, but his headache was still bad, and eventually we asked for more help. He had another shot, and diazepam of some variety to help him relax, and he was finally ready to let me tuck him in and leave him to try to rest. I really do hope he feels better in the morning, *I* may not be able to stay cool and stoic if he’s still in pain and Wednesday’s possible departure gets question marks all over it...

I dined on 2 cheese sammos, thanks to finding a small superette on the way home, and having just enough roubles left to buy a packet of sliced cheese. I also have a packet of rather nice poppy seed crackers, an endless supply of extremely fake-o apricot jam, butter and condensed milk (thanks to the hotel fridge), a bit of chocolate, and coffee. My most important supply was the remaining small tin of gin and tonic, which is MY version of a valium and a little lie-down! I shall now invoke the latter part of that statement and see if I can collapse. It’s windy tonight and my door is rattling; it sounds JUST like someone trying the handle to see if it’s locked, most annoying. And a little while ago, we had the fourth lot of fireworks in a row - every night, comes the revolution! I do wish they’d get ON with it!

G’night. Seeya on the webs tomorrow. I can feel a major fix coming on, along with my must-do list which includes buying a blood pressure machine, going to the English book shop again, buying some more washing powder, and having a proper meal if I can. I ought to be eating my main meal at lunchtime so the evenings can be spent at the clinic with no worries about cafes being closed a la last night, when I leave M to come back to the hotel; but I can’t fancy hot chicken and oily fried veggies at that time of day. I want a toasted sammo! Such a thing has not made itself evident to me here, yet. The pizza I had for lunch was pretty good, nice thin crunchy crust, and good veg. Spoiled by the many people aiming for early-onset emphysema over their desserts. Oh yum, tiramisu and a fag.

Ickkkk.

Reverie at Sonata 23/8 - evening, tired and lonely...

It was harder, today, to leave M at the clinic and come ‘home’ alone... I wandered through some different parts of the streets, half-looking for a small ‘milk bar’; half-hoping for a restaurant to entice me in; half-ready to cry. It’s all very well being practical and patient, but the implicit drama of ‘M is in hospital in Russia, with fluctuating heartbeat, blood pressure and liver function’ is playing its part. He’s fine in himself, getting bored with the very limited reading we have, and none of the signs of illness are worsening. I bumped into the doctor as I went in this evening (having failed to have my internet fix, which I think has got me down a bit, I’d dearly love to read some news from home); his rundown is that M’s signs are still not stable, and he (the doc) is relieved that we are prepared to stay as long as necessary to make sure M is quite well, before we resume our travels.

He said M’s heartbeat was very low during the day, combined with big fluctuations in blood pressure. The white blood cell count has come down (good); the potassium level has gone up a bit (good), and he has no purging or further signs of gastric disturbance. He’s been up and walking around, eating his light diet, absorbing buckets of IV fluids, etc etc... why am I so uneasy?

Maybe I’m a bit lonely. A hotel room with a dead-donkey-coloured rug is not exactly inspiring. Then again the staff have gone out of their way to make sure I’m comfy, supplied with anything and everything they can offer me; the maid chattered to me in Russian as she tenderly made my bed with fresh sheets (and had a loooong fight to get the doona back into the cover, that was funny). The plumber came in and inspyekted the side and back of the wardrobe (ie the walls) to see where the leak was coming from, but of course when HE ran the shower, nothing happened. Purrhaps I overcharged the system with all my rinsing of clothes before lavishly showering myself, those two times it puddled. I dunno.

I found a little superette and bought a big bottle of still water (I can’t get used to the fizzing when I clean my teeth with the sparkling stuff); some poppyseed crackers, and some chocolate. They didn’t have tins of gin and tonic, only gallons of beer and vodka, and something called Red Martini. Looks like cherry port - syrupy and a bit toxic! I decided to go back to the bakery to get some bread; nothing like a bit of carbohydrate. No problem getting it; in fact I got a discount! My purchase was R56, and I only had a R1000 note, or R53. The assistant didn’t like the R1000 note; said sternly to me ‘SMALL MONEY!’, and I showed her I only had the R53. ‘Okay’ she said. Amazing! I worked it out, a discount of 3 roubles is worth about .15 of one Australian cent. Won’t be able to retire on that just yet.

Got meself back to the hotel room and then remembered - booze. Damn. I can’t be stuffed going back out for that. On with the ‘lympix and try to cheer up a bit. Here is my recipe for cheering-up-of-lonely-nearly-birthday-grrl-in-anonymously-average-Russian-hotel:

-take shoes and socks off
-take t-shirt off, hot hot hot
-wash hands lavishly and apply Aquium
-eat crust of bread - not bad
-eat next slice of bread too, thinking ‘I should go and get some butter’ but don’t act on it
-eat small sticky bun purchased against my weak willpower
-unpack 1.5 litre bottle of water and have a glug of cold, fresh, not-fizzy water
-look skeptically at poppy-seed crackers and open chocolate instead
-discover it is similar to a giant Kit Kat, nom
-eat 2/3 of it without the willpower issue causing any further problems
-wish I had some booze but drink more water
-turn shower on to get hot water to steam wrinkles out of tomorrow’s daks
-change into clean nightie, turn down bed, spray self lavishly with Chanel No. 5
-think about darling dorter, mother, father and dear friends; add 10 hours to current time and think that they won’t love me back much if I ring now
-think about ringing M but don’t want to wake him if he’s finally stopped having things poured into his wrists [he has to watch the fluid level in the IV bags and ring ze bell for ze nurse when it gets low. Not the nurse’s chob apparently... he was hoping his 10pm bag would start early so he could get to sleep; he’s tired. Didn’t/couldn’t sleep much last night; pillows and bed all wrong; worry; lack of wifey etc etc..]
-watch a bit of ‘lympic biffo on the teev - a kickboxer disagreeing with the umpire had a shout and then kicked him in the head! tsk tsk..
-realise I must write out my wowwies so I can sleep myself. I could, of course, take extra meds, but I don’t want to be groggy in ze morgen (sorry, yes dad of course I mean ‘groggiER’). Ha ha etc.

If you follow this recipe, you will be feeling more like this:

-you’ll smell great
-your feet will have stopped aching
-you’ll have that ‘organised Virgo’ feeling about your clothes for tomorrow
-you’ll be able to tell yourself that no booze means your willpower DID work, just not in the usual field of calories
-you’ll also be able to enjoy rather than be irritated by the loud bangs and thumps going on outside, which is more RF Flag Day fireworks going off in the Heritage Square, about 150m away behind a row of buildings. [I can just see the edges of some of the pretties... not sufficiently well to take photos. And no, I’m not going out to join the crowd. I’ll get my feets trodden on or my pockets pickled or my purrson propositioned or somesuch. Not my cuppa tea today.]. Yep, here comes ze nekxt rrrevolutionsk!
-and, you might even feel better in general. A bit. Sort of. Nothing a cat couldn’t fix propurrly if a cat was anywhere it was NEEDED.

NOT in Estonia, Saturday 23 August

eYesterday M was fine at breakfast, but tired. Both of us needed more sleep .. he was suddenly rushing to the bathroom, then shaking violently and in a cold sweat. We layer him with every warm thing we have, stuff him into bed and hold hands. In half an hour or so the shaking has stopped and he is not so pale. I take his temperature, not good at 37.5.

Little by little, we try a few sips of water, a cracker or two, then two disprin. After about an hour I take his temp again, and it’s gone up to 38.2. Ok, we’ll need a doctor. The women in reception give me a flyer for the American Medical Clinic, which is not far away. I call and politely refuse to go away until they give me an appointment almost immediately. They first said 7pm but I am not prepared to wait with M’s temp possibly shooting up even higher, and him maybe not even well enough to get in a cab. I shudder to think what it might take to get an ambulance, even thru the American clinic (whose staff are incredibly helpful).

Meantime I start ringing our Russian travel agents and try to see what might happen if we can’t get on the bus to Tallin, which was booked for an 11am Saturday departure. No good with the phone calls; I can’t get through. There’s no time to pursue this, we go off to the clinic in a taxi [getting a lecture from the driver when we get there - something has got up his nose about the way we asked or what we said or something. ‘There are million taxi driver in here city; only one or two I know where you are meaning’. Ok. Huh?].

We are sent to a consultation room very quickly, and in comes the doctor (whose name I have got spectacularly wrong, calling her Doctorovsky, which is the masculine form. Ooops.. ).. Her diagnosis is that M has a ‘tyoxick infyektion’ and should stay overnight to have a drip for rehydration. She’s taken blood and the initial results show a high white blood cell count - sure sign of bacteria at work.

He has a room to himself (and we think he is perhaps the only customer, it’s very quiet in the corridors). The doc comes back with a bit more news: he is to have a rehydrating drip with potassium and some antibiotic. The first bag runs through very quickly, and he has I think three of them before 10pm. I go back to the hotel to get him some clothes and such, and start to sort out the change of plans.

The hotel people are wonderful; they assure me that they have a room for Saturday night; they are very concerned for me as well as M, and offer to help in any way they can. They fluff around me a bit, giving me coffee and clean towels and we have a talk about how people are just people wherever you go; this is so true.

I get onto the travel agent and she too is very concerned for us and keen to offer help. She can’t guarantee reservations on the bus, and the very clear inference is that we aint going nowhere until Monday - it’s going to be very difficult to leave on Sunday, if that’s how it works out; no offices open on ze weekend of course... Then I try to ring the Tallinn hotel to tell them of the delay, but no dice with the phone number. But, aha!, I have a Tourist Helpline flyer, so I ring them and very quickly Zhjenny sorts out my problem - I need more dialling codes (a country code and then a city code, to add to my area code and local number). I get through after that, no worries.

The travel agent rings me back with a solemn message - we know that M can have his visa extended via a letter from the doctor. But MY visa is also expiring and I must be very careful to make sure I too am certified as having to stay longer. She says a few dire things about “pyenalties at ze border” and I see myself hauled off the bus and left whimpering in the guard house while M sails off to Estonia...

Back to the clinic with M’s supplies, and to see what administrative progress we can make. The nurse (Olga) says we’ll have to talk to the doctor in the morning. I check with their reception staff and they say ‘We do this all the time; don’t worry; can we help you with a hotel room or would you like to stay here?” etc etc. I can’t fault the generosity of everyone I’ve spoken to, if I need any assistance all I have to do is blink and I will be overwhelmed.

And now it’s 10.30 pm and I haven’t really eaten since breakfast; a quick stop at a cafe earlier was only partially helpful because all their savoury food was sold out. Except for some rather oily-looking slices of pizza sitting in an unchilled cabinet. Nyet for me. I charge down to Nevsky (a quick charge down the canal, which is looking very pretty in the night lights). Suddenly, the revolution is upon me, I can hear loud bangs and crowds roaring. What?? I never!.... but then my brain starts working again and I remember that M told me it’s Russian Federation Flag Day, and what I can hear is fireworks. Phew, though.

At Nevsky the cafe I want is closed, so I give up and go to Maccas. There is a time and place for it, I know this from life in Beijing.. sometimes you just have to know exactly what you’re going to get. The queue is long and unmoving, and it’s HOT. After about 15 minutes, a woman in the crowd yells out - seems pretty obvious to me she’s saying ‘Why isn’t anyone serving??’. It’s certainly the slowest and least efficient Macca’s I’ve ever been in... a bloke pushes through the crowd to join his mate and no-one objects - that’s because he’s nearly 7 feet tall and looks EXACTLY like a Mongolian warlord - the arched brows, the slightly Asiatic facial features, not to mention the shoulders about five feet wide! He seems a nice enough bloke for a warlord...

Eventually, eventually, after at least 30 minutes, I get served. I order enough for two people, because I find Maccas doesn’t ‘stick’ very well, and because I’m exhausted and half-dead from worry and responsibility and thinking hard about what to do. And if ever a woman DESERVED a soft serve icecream with hot chocolate fudge sauce....NOM.

Back at the hotel I deliver another report to the reception women; retrieve my tin of gin and tonic, snarf down my fabbo junk fix, and begin packing. Because, at this stage, the doctor is saying if M’s tests look alright in the morning, we can shake a leg or three and leap onto the bus to Estonia. It takes me two hours to wash out some stuff we need and pack all our stuff, going more and more slowly because I’m soooo tired. I’m helped along by having the ‘lympix on, and I see the big Aussie redhead win the men’s pole vault, yay! And I see a bit more of the diving, thank you whichever goddess sent that .. I finally fall into a cool shower at 2am, kick a towel over the puddle which forms under the wardrobe if I run the shower for more than 30 seconds, and fall into bed.

I don’t care any more if there’s a revolution.

~~~~~~~~~

I’m at the clinic at 8.45am on Saturday, at the very second the doctor (a different one) arrives brandishing test results for M. There’s a lot of mulling over of possibilities and explanation of what the tests show .. high white blood cell count; very low potassium; liver function all over the place. On the good side (!) M’s temp is down, and he feels ok - there’s been no cough, pain, tummy trouble or headaches. The doctor says we can go if we like, sign off here and resume medical treatment in Tallinn. Which means finding a doctor there on a Sunday. He’s not very keen on this choice; he wants to give M quite a lot more treatment, so we assure him we’re prepared to stay until Monday. We mention the visa issue again; he says ‘It’s not my chob but ze attministrayshn will hyelpp’. Okay...

M is to have another blood test to see what has changed. And while that’s cooking, he will have four more bags of rehydrating fluid, with masses of potassium added (low potassium levels are dangerous for people who have heart problems), antibiotics, and several doses of ‘a soll-yution” to clear toxins from the digestive system. [This is charcoal - he said it was disgusting, chalky grey stuff. As long as it WORKS!]

As I write, at 7pm on Saturday evening, he’s had his buckets of fluids, several light meals, and his temp and bp are steady - temp down but not all the way to normal I don’t think. He’ll be in the clinic until Monday morning, when Plan B will be formed. We hope this might be ‘leap onto the bus to Tallinn’, but the travel agency has given me a weekend contact number which isn’t connected, so I have no idea if they can sort out the tickets. We may have to stay another night, and go on Tuesday... what is it with the karmic forces keeping me away from Tallinn? Is there something I don’t know????

I just hope we get there by Wednesday, cos that’s my birthday, and that’s where I want to be! Even if Arvo (Paert) doesn’t make it to meet me at the bus station, I can cope with the rejection, but sheesh.. I just wanna have a look.

Next post I’ll tell you about Thursday, which started off kinda low, but improved to quite something. I’m at a cafe which proudly advertises “WiFi” but nyet, not working. Ditto the wireless webs at the hotel, I have passwords and stuff but the connection won’t .. well .. connect. I may trot down past the three canals which cross Nevsky, to the dear old smoky Cafe Max, to let youse know what’s happening, but first I must trot over to see my dear M for some husband therapy.

Today brought to you by ‘Enjoy’, because I need to remember to do a bit of this.

[PS For the first time in this city, I saw a cat this morning as I charged off to see M - it was a little short-haired grey with a few white splodges, including one big milky one splashed across its moosh. It didn’t speak, but gazed at me in Russian to hint mutely of depravations, denials, poor service and a general downturn in the standard of living. How come all cats say this, every time,every language, everywhere? Skivers, the lot of them AND it wouldn’t have a pat... ]

...and an nb while I'm online...

Hi ppls, thanks for comments which have flown in just like we're not almost exactly on the most opposite side of the world from you as we could be...

Today we stopped in Tromse, which is (another) beautiful Norwegian coastal town in (another) beautiful bowl of harbour surrounded by steep slopes, reaching up to rock and permanent snow. We visited a Polar Museum, which was fairly good in tourist terms, mostly because they had several bearded seals in a huge enclosure, who were being fed and played with for their 'mental health' - no NO not doing tricks!!!! We were assured there is a biiiig difference. Oh yeah?

Then we had a tour of the town, which naturally led to many photographs, and one day I do hope I'll work out how to upload at least a small sample of them. But for now I've worked out how to get them onto the computer, which is a very good start (use the port on the side of the machine, der).

Finally FINALLY it is cooler, the days are about 12 degrees, and there's a lovely chilly wind all the time we are sailing. Didn't manage to prevent me getting very sweaty as I went for a fast walk around Tromse town in search of an English newspaper. No luck, the closest I could get was Speigel celebrating with a whole issue about WW11, or French porn. C'est ca...

We are 'second service' diners, so we have to wait for 8.30 and sometimes later to sit down, let alone eat. I'm finding it a bit of a trial, partly cos the alternatives are so costly on board (altho I could just get more ice and gargle neat gin in me cabin), and partly cos by the time we eat and wind down and so on, and of course it's still light outside, it might be midnight or later and then tomorrow has gone pear-shaped before you've started. That said, we enjoyed filling in our pre-dinner hours last night by tackling the ship laundry and managing to work out the coin-operation system AND get our clothes clean, and nearly dry. The Miele machines are all smarter than me. I only speak Fischer and Paykel.

It's fun having interwebs in the ocean! It's NOT fun having mobiles... beep beep diddly-doo-da-day all the time. Nowhere is sacred. Beware, gentle readers, when you plan your travelling - I challenge you to find a place where no-one can suddenly start ordering cat food and reminding little Johnny to do his homework...

For the record, I am still not well, my left sinus has exploded. I think I shouldn't have stopped ze intenze trittment last week when I thought it was ok. So, sigh, back to the old regime, squirt schnort gargle. At least the koff of deth has stopped. M is fine, he went out at an earlier port (sorry about all the question marks in the previous uploads btw, they will be filled in asap) while I was getting myself vertical and in his precious 30 minutes on land, managed to find the Tourist Info Centre, who then helped him find the newsagent, and a florist! So I was (re)woken by a man bearing red roses. SCENTED red roses, they don't do plastic real here. Wonderful. Brilliant man. And mine, all mine! (He won't like me saying that..).

Today brought to you by not very much in the way of scent except the hint of roses I can just smell if I put my whole face into them. Cos sinus trouble means no sense of smell. But I know I'm wearing clean clothes, Gucci, and plenty of coffee. Oh yeah, I bought some more Norsk coffee beans to send home. Heh.

Miss you all. Send me some gum leaves!