Medical Journeys

In the last 2 months I've had medical appointments in the small city of Nafplio. Nafplio used to be only an hour away but because of a rock fall, months ago, which blocked the main 'highway' we now have to climb up through mountain villages and come down a steep mountain road with endless hairpin bends.  It takes about 45 minutes longer and is a tedious journey.

There have been more rock falls, apparently, and the opening of the 'highway' which skirts the sea, avoiding the villages and cutting a journey to civilisation in half, doesn't seem to be on the horizon. 

To reach the city and make it in time for a morning appointment we have to be on one of the early car ferries and take our time climbing up through narrow roads.

One of the appointments was early January and one of the worst days of winter.  We were up early, unable to sleep before the journey, and decided to leave on the earlier car ferry to the mainland. 

It was pouring with rain and poured all darn day. We dashed out, only to find a door and a window had been left open. 

Our ghost, Baba Lazaros, or a human hand? 

The driver's seat was soaking wet. And of course we had a flat battery.

There was weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth. And a bit of cursing. 

K, being a man who can fix anything,  has a battery charger. He wired up the battery and we waited twenty minutes.

Great sighs of relief when the car started. We made the next car ferry, making sure to let the engine run, which is a usually forbidden when the ferry is at sea. It was wet and miserable and no-one cared. 

What a day . Besides the constant rain, there was fog once we got up into the mountains and negotiating  those hairpin bends was nerve wracking (or racking, or even wrecking) . 

That mountain road has half a dozen road-side shrines marking fatal accidents. Not something you want to see appearing out of the fog. A graphic reminder of the danger. 

But, we made the appointment. And, made an appointment for more tests another day. 

On the way home the fog had lifted but the car kept missing a beat.

The problems of having an old car.  We drove home, an uneasy silence in the car till we got down to the plains before Poros. It was fixed a few days later. 

On our next trip to Nafplio for some gynecological tests it was a beautiful day. We even made it to the German giant Lidls for some shopping therapy, a few bottles of French sauv blanc and some decent sausages.

However we had more problems with the car. The revs wouldn't go down when K took his foot off the accelerator. Another slow and uneasy return journey. Back to the mechanic it went the next day. Got that sorted out. Cross fingers, spit spit spit, it just passed the warranty test and is purring like a cat full of cream. 

I've finally got a date for an operation. After 18 months, 2 years? So long I can't remember.

The sooner the better. Moving around is getting to be very uncomfortable and at times painful. 

They can remove all the non working bits of me they want. I'm having a hysterectomy. Hoorah. 

The little white envelopes full of 'grease' are ready and waiting. 

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One of the joys of the journey. Flamingoes on a local estuary. 

Another joy is the city of Nafplio. It's a smaller city surrounded by many ancient ruins, citadels and castles, a picturesque old town and a big twice weekly market. The coffee we have in the centre of the shopping district is almost half the price of a Poros coffee even though it's very touristy. 

 K loves the traditional cafenion where the old men congregate. It's got good wine, an excellent selection of traditional snacks and it is right next to the hospital and cheap. I sit and people watch and look for photo opportunities. 

Most of all we have to keep the boy happy. 

One sunny day when it's all over we shall have a pleasant outing in Nafplio, drinking capuccino in the old town, wandering through the market, taking a trip on the little tourist train and stopping at one of those mountain villages on the way home to eat grilled lamb chops. Says me. I don't think I'll ever get K on a little white  train and he will definitely groan if I mention ancient ruins or a picturesque lane. Unless there's a good place to eat at the end of it. 

Maybe I'll get to eat a platter of grilled lamb chops at a village taverna and appreciate small blessings and my good health.