Category: Uncategorized

Today’s post brought to you by: travel insurance

Grateful for: Ben, beyond words

Trying hard to accept: need to move more than an inch

I don’t often give advice (wipe that look off your face, Penny, Peter, anyone else I’ve ever met).

But take heed, dear readers:

• drink water – lots of it
• get travel insurance – lots of it
• be careful what you jokingly wish for
• have a Ben in your life

A couple of days ago I’m walking along and my falling-off-ladder-day-before-I-left-NZ-tailbone injury is screaming for attention. Again.

Ha! I kinda laughed to myself. Maybe I should go see a doctor and check out the notorious US medical system we in NZ shudder in fear about.

Well, all you cynics out there, dreams do indeed come true. To the tune of 9 hours in ER and the small matter of a $6,375 bill to ‘discuss’ with travel insurance co.

More advice, because I feel eminently qualified to give it now. Thirst is not an indication of dehydration.

What’s more, even if the Florida sun is only making cameo appearances, you still need to drink lots. Of water. Free coffee refills are not water.

Strangely, I fainted in the shower 4 times (I think – counting wasn’t exactly a priority) yesterday morning. Strangely because I exercise a lot more/drink a lot less at home and have never had this happen.

Every little while I would collapse onto hard jutting plastic corners of bath tub. Crash, bang. Wake up. Stand up. Fall down, crash, bang. Wake up. Stand up. Repeat.

It was like being tossed around in a tumble dryer full of hard corners.

Managed to wash my hair though. Important to look good. Didn’t quite manage to shave legs.

Somehow managed to get dressed, send SOS to Ben, force some food down and make all-important call to insurance co.

Over the next 9 hours:

• spent 2 hours in emergency clinic having IV, ECG, BP and BT (blood tests – just trying to keep with the initials thing)
• went into mild panic hearing the words, “we’re worried about her – she needs to go to the ER”
• retold my first name, last name, date of birth and account of what happened to 1 front desk guy, 1 registration (euphemism for bill paying division) guy, 5 nurses, 6 technicians, 2 physician’s assistants, anyone who’d listen, and half a doctor.
• lost count of how many blood tests they did and how many sticky ECG patches they stuck down my bra
• robed and de-robed for CT and X-rays
• made X-ray technicians’ day for presenting ribs rather than chest, which rest of The Villages patients need X-raying
• got told I have extremely low blood pressure – but knew that
• found out I have very long lungs, odd pupils and gallstones (ignoring last one till leave US – for reasons of biscuits and BBQ)
• had blood pressure taken so many times – lying, sitting, standing – my arm almost fell off
• had long chat to Kurt on reception about his son’s 9 back rods and brain injury post-Iraq
• befriended nurse Laura ‘cause she seemed only one able to make things happen
• wolfed down few bits of dry turkey sandwich that Laura found me – first food in 8 hours – I fell instantly in love
• used half of the hospital’s hot blanket supply after spending 9 hours purple with cold
• got 2 mins of the elusive Dr Lopez who (thank you good fortune, karma, higher being, whatever) said all test results ok and put it down to dehydration
• got hugs from nurses and technicians as I finally left (them in peace)
• thanked my incredible good fortune to have Ben with me to get me places, explain things, make things happen, ask the right questions, demand answers, sort all the follow-up paperwork, and most of all – and this is the big one – give up 9 hours of her life to sit and wait and starve and just be there for me.

Now at home not intending to move more than one inch in either direction if can possibly avoid it. And sculling water.

Even though ribs aren’t cracked they might as well be. Every movement, laugh, cough, rough bit of road in the car is agony. Dr Google (free!!!!!!) assured me it’s bruised bones, which unlike rest of my black and blue body, won’t show as external bruising.

I’ve got 5 more days in Florida before next train trip. Plan to spend most of it vertical to try and speed recovery so can haul backpack.

Gonna be a much different trip from now on than I’d planned but I am just so grateful to be ok and to have such caring and generous people in my life.

One of the best meals of my trip. So hungry I would’ve eaten my foot. Actually, that’s Ben’s foot in the picture. Just as well the food arrived when it did.

Today’s post brought to you by: the makers of Gatorade

Grateful for: power of denial

Trying hard to accept: power of reality

BREAKING NEWS!!! Drinking water till you look and feel like the Michelin Man actually makes dehydration worse. I. Give. Up.

Found this out from the lovely southern belle nurse Ashley when we went back to the clinic to pick up my reports. (Turned to Ben in horror as the receptionist handed me a form on a clipboard, “Sign here and go wait in room 3.” She thought we were there to start the whole nightmare all over again. Was she just bored? Or crazy? Or been told to get profits up?)

The answer to all my life’s problems is … (“Told ya so” is so unattractive, Stephen) … Gatorade! The most sickly sweet, strangely coloured, overpriced drink ever to grace the shelves. Electrolytes are king, apparently.

To get over the trauma of the visit to the trauma centre, we had to find some southern comfort food. Stat.

Every home needs a Cracker Barrel in its back yard. They give you a breakfast menu, a lunch menu and a holiday season menu.

By page 1 of the breakfast menu you’re already doing an impressively complicated mathematical formula in your brain to calculate calories eaten already, calories about to be eaten, exercise done today (none), exercise planned for tomorrow (none), fat percentages, anything carb-free on this menu?, get real, % of recommended daily intake of electrolytes, enough sodium, too much sodium, should really eat some green veg, nah, how many biscuits is too many biscuits? so you can work out what to order. There are still 15 pages to go.

Cracker Barrel: the only restaurant and gift store where you can shoot deer between courses and build your house on Pearson’s Salted Nut Roll piles.

16 hours later. Strongly suspect connected to mysteriously absent willpower at Cracker Barrel.

You know how they say the older you are the less you sleep? Well, from the patio villas of The Villages a vampire has emerged.

Note to brain: I AM ON HOLIDAY. I DO NOT NEED TO WAKE UP AT 5AM ANY MORE.

Or 1am. Or 2am. Or 3am … I’m writing this at 6am after waking up every hour on the dot. What do you call a cross between a vampire and a Swiss watch?

You know those dreams that are very cleverly like movies? There’s a set, a cast (depending on whether you’ve had a good, bad or anxiety-filled day you’re either the hero, villain or victim), a storyline, a beginning, middle and sometimes an end.

You wake up and think, wow, my brain’s so clever, it just created a whole movie. You lie there and go over the whole thing (smiling, frowning or quietly weeping, as appropriate).

You think that given the complexity of the movie it would’ve been at least 3 hours long.

Fool. Instead of the full-length feature film with half an hour of adverts, trailers and opening credits included, I get the made-for-TV version.

One hour maximum. On the dot.

Oh no. … how’s that for timing. Scary email from travel insurance co just popped up: “Dear Ms Wilson, our US agent would like to know …”

As much chance of getting back to sleep now as running a marathon. Actually, in current state of disrepair, as much chance as running to the end of the bed.

Today’s post brought to you by: footpaths

Grateful for: ability to walk some of the food off

Trying hard to accept: dog next door is barking all night for a good reason

Special tena koutou katoa to NZ readers. Hey so you know how we scoff at Brits and Americans who go overseas and insist on eating same food they get at home?

Well, right now I’m in their camp. Actually am in Starbucks, Longwood, Florida seeking solace in the familiar – and also ‘cause get instant wifi after taking refuge in their sister store in scary Noo Orlins.

Oh Starbucks my friend. I filtered this picture so you wouldn’t notice my zit-laden sallow skin.

Was feeling a bit overwhelmed/sleep-deprived/lonely/fish out of water here when I first arrived so started writing this post in Starbucks. Till I cleverly somehow created a duplicate site by mistake. So once you read this post you can flick over to my other site and read it all again.

Writing these posts makes me happy. Now I know most of you are in work grind and I’m on a long holiday and I should be happy all the time but some days the ‘foreignness’ of the US, which I’ve mentioned before, overwhelms me a bit.

It’s the 101 little things everyday that I need to learn and adjust to. Like being on an overseas phone number … I WISH THAT DOG WOULD SHUT UP … and the change in climate and crossing my fingers my credit card works every time and getting people to understand my accent and vocabulary and crossing the street without being killed and all sorts of things.

After holding back the tears saying goodbye to Ben am now staying with her Friendship Force contacts, Lynn and Kurth in Longwood.

It’s is about as far away economically, demographically and politically from The Villages as you can get.

Only 1 hour and 4 tolls booths away but might as well be in another world.

Hearing I’d been immersed in Trump land for the last week, Lynn very quickly pointed out that they do not like him. One little bit.

Typical house in my ‘hood. Happened to be walking by school as kids were leaving and seems to be real racial mix here – lot of super cute African American kids with cornrows, and Latinos.

Pond down the end of the street. And guess what? There are footpaths! Everywhere! Hallelujah!

We went to BBQ place for lunch. So many options and combos and tailor-mades to choose from and decisions that had to be made super quickly, I just ordered anything.

In hindsight should have ordered nothing because boy I did not need that food. My stomach looked like the pig outside, my skin has decided enough is enough, I’m probably getting rickets and beri-beri, and I’ve spent the afternoon trying and failing to walk up an appetite for dinner.

So that’s it. No more fat, carb-laden, salt-laden, fried, flat grilled, microwaved, instant, reheated or leftover food.

After lunch Lynn and Kurth took me for a stroll in the local wetlands kind of forest area. Swamps and wild pigs and lots of ferns.

Then I walked 3 blocks to the local shops. You won’t find any Make America Great Again bumper stickers or Christmas ornaments in these parts.

From where I was standing in one spot I could see: Save a Lot, Family Dollar, Buy A Lot!, Buy A Lot More!, tattoo place, thrift store, African braiding place, McDonald’s, Starbucks, Latino grocery and deli, 2 pawn shops and a bait shop.

First stop, thrift store. If I could’ve I would’ve brought home half the shop, particularly as landlord was evicting them and everything was ‘make an offer’.

Asked woman on counter what she was eating because it smelt mighty fine. Turns out she’s from Barbados and it was a casserole of grits, mackerel (yes you read that right) and okra.

Yip sounds friggin’ awful but bet it was friggin’ good. She gave me name of Caribbean joints I should eat at so will try to find one.

I was like a pig in muck (ie any pig not in these dangerous BBQ-obsessed parts) in Save A Lot.

Nasty Gatorade $1/litre. Check. Bananas 45c/lb. Check. Cheap and fresh veg. Check. Hamburger Helper 99c. Double check.

I’ve wanted to eat this every time I’ve opened ‘Good Housekeeping’ or ‘Better Homes and Gardens’ magazines. A true American classic.

Lynn and Kurth have just gotten home from Japan. Check out the beautifully wrapped wasabi peanuts. One of their hosts gave Lynn the most delicate pink silk kimono. “It’s a spare, I just had it hanging in the cupboard”. Cripes, if you came to my house and got given something that was just hanging in the cupboard you’d end up with a $2 Trade Me dress with holes in the seams that I can’t be bothered fixing.

After dinner “Hello salmon my old friend, I’ve come to eat with you again …” they asked me to choose a video we could all watch from their collection of overseas trips. Japan is still in production so Norway it was.

If you live in NZ you don’t need to cash in your KiwiSaver to go to Norway. Just sell your kids and go to Fjordland instead.

Honestly, it’s exactly the same. Green forever, narrow hilly roads … WHERE IS THAT RUGER I HAD THE OTHER NIGHT? … sheep, cows, woofers, wooden houses, high taxes, water water everywhere and youthful, charming locals.

Today’s post brought to you by: the city’s light rail – but only just

Grateful for: 1969

Trying hard to accept: there is a Publix in Winter Park

So after I’d made my $2.39 coffee last long enough to publish a post, I left Starbucks, found a table at the most beautiful, manicured park and ate my wholesome lunch. Including a whole avocado (following your lead, Jim).

Then, craving carbs (not following your lead, Jim) I asked Google maps to direct me to Publix.

I know there was a Publix somewhere near where I ended up because I saw the carpark. But do you think I could find the front door? Answer begins with n.

Next thing I find myself outside Wholefoods Market, being lured in by the aroma of freshly sawn Christmas trees lined up outside.

Besides Christmas trees, there are only 3 reasons to enter Wholefoods:

• to buy all those tres-gourmet things you can’t find anywhere else, like a Winter Park husband
• to eat at the free food sampling stations that appear every 7 steps
• to be sung happy birthday to

After eating at every sampling station I completely lost interest in finding the elusive Publix.

Strolled back to the posh shops in the 20-something degrees winter sun having a good ol’ time looking at all the houses and seeing which I could afford to buy. FYI, none.

Now here’s a tip. Do not go into an incredibly expensive gift store and spray yourself with honeysuckle and something body oil thinking it was honeysuckle and something perfume. See what happens.

Not only does this significantly reduce your chances of finding a Mercedes-driving Winter Park husband but it also discourages you from entering the hallowed halls of the Tiffany glass museum.

With 23 minutes till the train was leaving I rushed off to Gap – being the only place in town to buy a t-shirt for less than $89.95.

And blow me down if I don’t find one on the sale rack for 40% off the already 50% off price. And it’s got my birth year on it!

Here’s an interesting fact. Well, it is to me, J-Lo, Jay-Z and Marilyn Manson anyway. Gap opened in San Francisco in 1969. For their 50th birthday they re-released their classic styles. Which means my almost-free t-shirt’ll be worth heaps on eBay in 50 years. Enough to retire to Winter Park.

With 11 minutes till the train was leaving, Gap made its speediest sale in 50 years.

Got to the train ticket machine, inserted debit card. Transaction declined. Tried 7 more times, shoving card in every possible way. Tried other machine. Ditto.

A train ambassador wandered over. “Try it again” he unhelpfully suggested. “I’ve tried 7 times” I said through gritted teeth.

He heard my accent. “Oh, these machines don’t accept foreign cards. You’ll have to pay by cash”.

“THESE MACHINES DON’T ACCEPT CASH”, shrieked a loud, irate NZ accent.

“Well you’ll have to use the machines on the other side of the tracks then”.

6 minutes till train leaves. He must’ve radioed his buddy on the other side (“Warning, irate tourist comin’ your way”) because that guy was quick as a flash to help me.

Then the two of them personally escorted me back across the tracks, like gentlemen-in-waiting (should’ve gotten them to carry my bags) and I got to the train with 1 minute to spare.

And in that instant, my low blood pressure problem was miraculously cured.

Only in Williams Sonoma would you find spatulas with Christmas snowmen, tartan, Harry Potter, your star sign, your name, or beater (get it) still your nemesis’ name.

Note from editor: More middle-of-the-night online chats with WordPress Help(!). I publish a post, it’s live for 30 minutes then disappears into the abyss, never to be seen again. Till they fix it (they WILL fix it) I’m rewriting posts from memory. So don’t be surprised if you see similar posts twice.

Another special post because so much to tell you.

First, more advice. If your name starts with B, G or K, and you struggle to get more than 34 minutes sleep in one go, get in your car, or keyboard, and buy a 2 inch slab of foam for your mattress, and a foam pillow, and you’ll sleep through dogs, shrinks living next door and ride-on mowers. Lynn and Kurth’s spare bed is pure bliss. Who knew the power of foam? Well probably everyone except me.

Ever wondered what happened in the Garden of Eden in autumn?

On the subject of glee, no sooner am I out of the shower than Lynn has whipped up omelette for breakfast and warm brownies. Yes, brownies are on my detox list. Shut up.

Lynn said she loves having guests as has an excuse to cook all her favourite foods that they don’t normally eat. Lasagna for supper.

Then … another spooky coincidence … she lends me biography of 48 year old children’s book writer who sold up to roam the world. Blow me down if it’s not same author who wrote my sister Penny and my favourite childhood book, “More Spaghetti I Say!”, which we still recite today.

Strolled to station to get train to Winter Park, 12km away. Clearly the $3 fare isn’t enough to keep ticket machines working.

First machine got stuck just as the guy’s ticket was meant to be spewed out.

Lined up for only other machine. Woman using said a few cuss words, turned to me and said “This machine is shit.”

Decided it was the better of two options and spent next 5 mins hitting “NO!!” as the “Do you want to cancel?” screen appeared every 2 seconds. I had to quick as a flash hit each button to complete my transaction in between getting rid of the omnipresent cancel screen.

Got half way through, ready to kick the stupid thing, when the English/Spanish announcement tells me the train arrives in 3 minutes. My fingers have never moved so fast. Not even when grabbing free food samples.

Winter Park is absolutely gorgeous. Average household income: $900,000. Three smoothie/acai bowl cafes to every coffee shop. Am about to find museum with Tiffany glass chapel. Well, that’s after I’ve been into every shop and strolled the endless gardens.

Am in Starbucks, only coffee in town. Ooooh, just got up to sprinkle nutmeg, chocolate and vanilla in my coffee and this rich-looking local guy looks up and gives me big “So, come here often?” smile. (“Yes, duh, free wifi”). I’m in!!! Wedding in Tiffany museum in 2 weeks. Send me your frock/pants sizes – 40% off at Gap today.

You know you’re in Winter Park when the coffee that cost you $2.19 in Longwood yesterday now costs you $2.39. To get my money’s worth I took a copy of “The Nanny Diaries” from the Starbucks book exchange.

Charles from Charles Scott Menswear. Gives you an idea of the standard of shopping here. Before you admire my gall at getting him to pose I actually took the photo from the Winter Park promo mag.

Had a(nother) brainwave walking to station. Low blood pressure is 90/60. Mine got down to 74/54 in hospital. Surprised I’m still upright. So need to invent a motorised combo IV drip wheelie thing/luggage trolley to haul my backpack the rest of the trip.

I’m so happy today.