Torremolinos, Spain & Playamar, Spain
I woke up to a stinging pain in my hands. That’s right, plural. In my sleep, I was stung in not one but *both* hands by some unknown creature/insect. Naturally, by the time I got out of the shower, the bites had seemingly disappeared because both my hands swelled up like cantaloupes with bratwurst-shaed fingers poking out. (déjà vu, times two.)
As usual, everyone who caught sight of me was quite horrified (and it’s safe to say I was a twee dismayed myself) and despite the bags of ice, by the time class ended at 1:30pm, the swelling was moving up my wrists and the fingers on my left hand were turning an alarming reddish-purple.
It seemed the Benadryl-Claritin cocktail I took before breakfast wasn’t going to do the trick.
I ended up going to the emergency center, wich is not quite a hospital and not quite a walk-in clinic, but a bit of both, because Spain has free healthcare for its citizens.
I was about 5th in line, but I saw the doctor within half an hour. (Faster than any US emergency room I’ve ever been in! Amazing!) She gave me a shot of (I think) cortisone in my rear end and a prescription for (I think) some sort of antihistamine. Getting the prescription filled was easy – I didn’t even have to show ID or fill out any paperwork. Even at the hospital, all I had to do was flash my photo ID, not that they Xeroxed it or anything.
So, if I had to have such a thing happen, at least it was really easy to get medical care. If someone from Spain comes to America and gets an allergic reaction and expects immediate, free medical attention… well, good luck with that one.
So far I’m still Frankensteinian and very sore, but hopefully the swelling will start to decrease very quickly.
Next, I went to the local travel agency and tried to reserve my remaining train tickets. They said I couldn’t purchase international train tickets in Playamar (where we were) but that I could in downtown Torremolinos and that the bus would come to this corner any second. I waited outside for the bus for over half an hour and the bus never showed. So, when a local pulled over to offer me a ride, I gratefully accepted, and it took less than 10 minutes to get there.
Downtown Torremolinos was a disappointment. I realized I’d been there before (yesterday, on The Long Walk) so I don’t mean in that sense, but because *their* travel agency said no, I could only purchase such tickets in Málaga. Well, I just tried Málaga yesterday, so I know better than that. Guess I’ll just have to wait until Madrid.
One thing that’s been surprising me requires a bit of back story. The fact is, I only packed the ugliest, most ill-fitting dregs of my closet (items I planned on giving to Goodwill anyway) just in case my luggage was lost and also because I planned on throwing/giving junk clothes away rather than dealing with a bunch of laundry. Also, I left my curling iron, makeup, etc, all at home, because why bother lugging it all around? So, I’m sporting a look that’s very early midwestern hobo (or worse).
Nonetheless, guys are honking and slowing down, blowing kisses at me and yelling “¡Guapa!” every five minutes. Weird.
Then again, as I mentioned, Spain is very clothing-optional and we *are* on the beach… maybe here it really doesn’t matter what you wear, because they figure if you go to the beach you’ll take it all off anyway. Not me, but you should see the people here – anybody who *is* wearing a swimsuit is either sporting a Speedo or a bikini, no matter how young/fat/old they are. Same with the regular outfits – these really old women have their canes and their halter tops, it’s wild.
