Blog ‹ Claire Dunnington, Writer

Let me talk more about the Kafka-esque nightmare of the healthcare system, EVEN WITH reasonable insurance and a doctor’s office down the street from me. I don’t even want to think about what would/will happen if/when the system we do have is dismantled and replaced by something worse…

I guess this was precipitated back in March when I needed a typhoid vaccination…in that the pharmacy that had the oral typhoid vaccine is going to come into play in this story.

So my prescription for Zoloft (correction: for generic Zoloft, AKA sertraline) is written by my general practitioner (though that’s not any one person, as there’s constant turnover at the office I go to), after initially being prescribed by a psychiatric nurse practitioner. The doctor’s office usually writes it with 6 or 12 months of refills. At the end of May, I was out of refills and coming to the end of my month’s supply, so I called to get an appointment to have the prescription rewritten (the other benefit to this particular practice is that, in addition to being a five-minute walk from me, it’s generally easy to get an appointment for the next day or at worst a few days later, especially if you don’t care which doctor you see). This time, though, the appointment line told me that their earliest appointment was…for two weeks later. When I would not only be out of medication but also out of town.

Plot twist!

No matter–since I’ve been going to this practice for a long time, and since I have extenuating circumstances of traveling soon, the doctor on call can call in a new prescription for me.

She did call it into the pharmacy that I got the typhoid vaccine from, not my regular pharmacy, but whatever; it was $7 more for the prescription and only four subway stops away.

And it seemed they had done me a favor until I ran out of pills last week, called the pharmacy for a refill, got confirmation that my refill was ready, went to pick it up…and was told I couldn’t have it yet, because it was too soon. (Side note: if pharmacies can automate calling you to tell you you’re due for a refill…and that your refill is ready…why can’t they automate the “sorry, it’s too early to refill this prescription!” notice?)

So that was when I realized that the doctor – whom I’d never met in person – had written the prescription for the wrong dose…which is, yes, something I should have checked when I initially filled it, but I was so happy to have it that I didn’t examine the bottle too closely. Thus what was written as a three-month supply was actually only a two-month supply with the actual dose that I take. Even with the pharmacy’s “leniency,” I wouldn’t be able to get a refill for another week (and then it would still be the wrong amount of medicine). I asked them what I could do. They said I could call the doctor’s office and it would be fast and easy–just have the doctor call them and change the prescription! Oh, but if it’s a different dose, then it has to be a new prescription so that we can run it through your insurance again…

If it had to be a new prescription, I was going to have it sent to the pharmacy down the street. So I left and went home to call the doctor…to begin this “easy” task of having my prescription rewritten.

to be continued so I don’t start laugh-crying.

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Or as Tracy Morgan would say, “WORDPLAY”

Inconsonance: When you just can’t stop your p’s, t’s, and q’s from dribbling out of your mouth.

Planner + Flaneur = planeur – someone who is pretending to wander but is actually really anal and has set out a specific path.

Slur-gery (I can’t claim coming up with this one–just defining it): Drunkenly performing an operation on someone.

This is only tangentially related but the other day I misread “instagrammable” as “mammogramable”

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Los Angeles always gets me with how amazing everything smells. I could just walk the hills smelling things all day.

I encountered some excellent animals and plants in LA and San Diego. Here they are:

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Marlon, resident dog at my AirBnB

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I went to a cafe for breakfast and pulled this fellow out of my hair.

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Such majestic awkward creatures

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Family pile!

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This house is across the street from the beach in San Diego, so I'm going to guess that is some very expensive imported grass product.

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Oranges and yellows

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Succelents

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Waterweb

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Tree jail

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Every house in this San Diego neighborhood was like its own mini-golf course

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The hill I was staying on top of

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Excellent smelling trees

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COME ON. Too much

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I need to magically become a graphic designer so I can draw this map.

Sad Brooklyn:

Frown Heights

Dark Slope

Upset Park

Bensonhurts

Fort Mean

Boredom Hill

Squabble Hill

Gowahhhhhhnus

Prospect Fights

Phony Island

Vinegar Pill

Flat-affect bush

Williamsblerg

…that’s all I’ve got.

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You know, like oversharing, but from the audience’s perspective.

(Maybe it wasn’t necessary to spell that out.)

On the train:

-Man whispering gently into his iPhone

-Guy to his friend: She was claiming that she had paid the landlord and he was screwing her sister, or something.

On the street:

-Teenager talking to her friend: I always tell my mom that she thinks of me as the bad kid, but really I’m the GOOD kid because I tell her everything before it happens. Like when I wanted to have sex, I told her, so it wouldn’t ever be a surprise if I got pregnant.

(Ed: Sure, no surprises there!)

From my students:

-Student: Do you remember when I got a goldfish for my English project because I’m just that bougie?

(Ed: I did not remember.)

-Student: Whenever I see a kid at school with a hickey, I say, Uh, did you make out with a leech?
(Ed: Making friends and influencing people–it starts young)

-Student, asking for food: MOM! Can I have cheese and a sprite and some strawberries?…and also a water for Claire?

To me: Did you hear how I advocated for you?

-Student, reading out loud: He had a conversation with a veterinarian

Me: With a what?

Student: A veterin–oh, a veteran.

(Ed: This was on MEMORIAL DAY)

-Student, reading a grammar exercise online in which the goal was to pick the appropriate punctuation for the sentence: Although Scott had enjoyed the carefree bachelor life ( , ; ) he preferred marriage.

Student: (hysterical laughter)

Student, when she’s stopped laughing: WHAT is that emoji??

Me: (dies)

Me, after returning to life: That’s…that’s asking you whether you need a comma or a semicolon.

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Getting from Chefchaouen to Marrakech involved multiple forms of transportation: bus from chaouen to Tangier, taxi from the Tangier bus station to the Tangier train station, overnight train from Tangier to Marrakech, and cab to the Marrakech medina before walking down the narrow streets to find the riad.

The only problem was that you can’t buy train tickets online without a Moroccan credit card, and because of how stressful the bus station in Fes was, we did not go to the train station. That was our first and last opportunity to buy a train ticket in person, since none of the cities in the mountains or desert gave us any opportunity to do so.

The other thing…was that the official website for Morocco’s rail system listed two different departure times for the Tangier-Marrakech train. I gave my phone to the French-speaking manager at the Chefchaouen guesthouse, but she confirmed that there were two different official pages, one listing a departure at 9:05 pm and the other stating 9:55 pm.

And the bus from Chefchaouen to Tangier was know to be a little unpredictable…and it left at 6 pm…and it was supposed to take 2.5-3 hours.

The bus got to Tangier at 9:10. The cab driver taking us from the bus station to train station said “Oh, I think the overnight train leaves at 9,” so when we arrived at the train station and found that not only did the train leave at 9:55 pm (it was 9:30 by that point), AND wasn’t sold out, but ALSO that there were sleeping car tickets left–greatest moment of travel alignment.

Then I took a 10-hour stress nap and woke up in Marrakech. Click through for photos and commentary:

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There is nothing like arriving in a new city in the early morning, not tired because you slept delightfully on a train while traveling great distances.

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The riad in the Marrakech medina. It was beautiful and although there was a little bit of an issue finding our booking, they gave us tea and croissants and that pretty much solves any problem for me.

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Really, even the table was stupidly lovely.

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Window in my room

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Left the riad at 11 am and didn't return until 10 pm. The souks were partially covered, which was good not only for the heat but also for the light patterns.

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Djellabas and other garments

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Hidden nook

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The souks required vigilance because of the motorcycles that constantly zoomed through. They also made the air so heavy with diesel that it was blue where the light hit it.

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Morocco wins at lamps...

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...even considering that I've been to a lamp store called Lamptitude: Turn up your Attitude.

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Morocco also takes best in show for doors.

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Ben Youssef Madrasa

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Closer view of the carvings

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Courtyard of Ben Youssef

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Lego, 8-bit

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Tiles

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A dome

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A doorway

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Another dome

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The caftan I bought in Chefchaouen was ideal for the day in Marrakech: covers everything (good not only for modesty but also sun protection) and feels like nothing

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Doorways in doorways in doorways

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Marrakech street art

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Stopped for juice with new German friends from the train

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A sentient machine!

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Jemaa el-Fnaa square

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Powerwheel convention

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Koutoubia mosque minaret

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Who is the Banksy of Marrakech?

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Room lamp #1

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Room lamp #2

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Never deny me a continental breakfast, and never expect me to turn down an individual breakfast that includes all of these items.

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Marrakech airport

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Goodbye, Morocco.

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Going from the desert to Fes was the only really long day of driving. It was about 7.5 hours, and Abdul dropped us off in Fes around 5 pm.

What can I say about Fes? Not much, unfortunately, except that I need to go back. My time in Fes was analogous to someone traveling to NYC but only visiting Times Square and the Port Authority. I was there for about 15 hours and my heart felt like a clenched fist the whole time. So…the pictures from Fes itself consist of: the inside of the (beautiful) guesthouse and shots taken while walking/running to the bus station.

Following that will be 1,000 pictures of Chefchaouen. It was like a sunset in that way. I knew I already had hundreds of blue pictures, but I just couldn’t resist taking one more. Click through for photos and commentary (and for no commentary on most of the Chefchaouen pictures, because I didn’t want to mar the blue…instead, just imagine this song playing on repeat):

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Driving through Ifrane, "the Switzerland of Morocco"

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Excuse the car-window photos, but it did look very ski-resort

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There was even snow--just a bit--along the sides of the road, and people had gathered it all up to make snowmen. Unfortunately, I did not catch any.

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Guesthouse in Fes, another hallowed place in which I took a shower for the first time in four days.

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Fes, early morning

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There were some beautiful public gardens behind some of the city walls, but...next time

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Goodbye, Fes old town. I'll come back!

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The bus itself was stressful because the guesthouse proprietor told us it wouldn't actually stop IN Chefchaouen--it would stop nearby and we would need to get a taxi.

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He drew us this map...and then after spending the 4-hour bus ride anxious about it, the bus pulled right into downtown Chefchaouen. It's so confusing when things work out!

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Nearing Chefchaouen

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Very pastoral

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This was my favorite bush. Favorite *type* of bush, I should say, though this is a nice enough one.

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Chefchaouen! Cue the Enya music.

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I'll be silent for a moment after this. Chefchaouen is at the foot of the mountains and just perfect.

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Pssst...cats

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The three owners/managers/staff of Usha guesthouse, who were all incredibly gracious and lovely.

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Inside the medina

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Baby kits everywhere

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Pigments

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Chefchaouen's main square/market

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Calvin and Hobbes do Morocco

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Question:

Is it okay to ride a camel?

I thought about this during our drive to Merzouga, while we rode the camels into the dunes of the Sahara (side note: when examining a map later, I discovered we were in a hilariously small piece of desert…still technically Sahara, though), and afterwards.

It seems like there’s a spectrum: You don’t ride on dolphins. You don’t ride giant tortoises. You possibly shouldn’t ride on elephants (maybe? I think more people would say it’s okay to ride an elephant than a dolphin?). But you definitely can ride horses.

…camels?

When is it okay to ride an animal? And when is it okay to OWN an animal? If it’s domesticated and seems to like it? If it’s small?

I don’t know. From a strength perspective, camels are perfectly capable of carrying a human, although it’s terrifying to watch a camel stand up–like a snorting, grumpy accordion. These camels didn’t have names, which made me vaguely sad.

Pictures and commentary from Day 3 of the desert (click through):

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The hotel room where our desert guide, Abdul, stayed while we stayed out in the camp.

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Grumpy camel #1

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Have attained standing position

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I'm guessing the group name for camels is just a herd...let me Google...aha! Can also be caravan, flock, or train.

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The approach toward the dunes

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Shadow riders

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The desert "camp" which was a pretty substantial structure and had a flush toilet (please don't ask me to explain how).

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We climbed up to the top of the dunes for the sunset.

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Sunset #1

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Tiny figures atop a neighboring dune

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Color palette changing

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Lone wanderer

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This bug joined for dinner.

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Desert fire; it was colder at night, but still warmer than it was in the mountains.

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Drumming around the fire

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Inside of the "tents"

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Sunrise on the way out of the desert

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Hellooooo

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I'm not sure if this picture should be titled "Birth" or "Let me kiss your boo-boo"

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On day 1 of the desert part of our tour, I had finally started to feel–not normal, again, yet, but like I could remember what normal felt like. When we left the mountains I figured I was on the mend, especially as we descended, but the overall nausea and lack of appetite continued as we made our way to Ouarzazate.

And then in the middle of the night that night, I came down with a 24-hour stomach thing. Honestly, I was happy enough to have that instead of the weird malaise I had traded for it. At least I understand what’s going on with stomach trouble.

Click through for pictures/captions:

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Leaving the mountains and driving east

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Not out of the mountains yet. Still raining.

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When driving in the mountains...don't make your face look like this.

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The landscape began to change...

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...as did the vegetation.

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This is the Ksar in Ait Benhaddou, near Ouarzazate.

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The Ksar is from the 1600s.

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It was EXTREMELY WINDY.

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So windy that in trying to get to the top of the Ksar, I was knocked over and then pelted with rocks.

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Our hotel had a pool but...it was too windy to use.

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Driving to the Dades gorge

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hello, mountains

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Dades gorge

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Not that I'm an amazing driver regardless, but I would not want to drive here.

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Oh look! A camper full of Nordic babies, and so helpfully labeled!

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Because my stomach wasn't distressed enough...

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I think breakfast the next day here was the first meal I really ate, but I gave it a good try at dinner.

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Sitting area

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Resident small child, impervious to sleep

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Open-air bathroom

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Little details hiding all around

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I'm the baby paparazzi.

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The next day we drove to Todra gorge.

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Todra gorge creek

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It's predictable to say it's gorge-s so I'll just go with...please feel free to gorge on the following numerous pictures of Todra.

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This kind of looks like the gorge but was actually a restaurant, where we ate before we headed to the Sahara...

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...to be continued.

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Last mountains, I promise. New topographies coming next post.

The final day of hiking was also eight hours, and while eight-hour Day 3 was my favorite, Day 4 almost ended me. I’m not totally sure what happened–I want to say that I had altitude sickness, but we were only ever as high as 2500 meters, which isn’t really enough to do it. I already had a head cold when we got to the mountains, though, and that + the higher altitude + exertion every day did something to me.

I woke up in the middle of the night with a vague, all-over nausea, which got worse when I tried to eat breakfast, and didn’t exactly get better as I hiked up another mountain. So there are fewer pictures (and fewer captions; you can pretty universally apply a Claire thought-bubble of “Please don’t throw up” or “Just take two more steps” to every picture), but click through for the Mountains: conclusion:

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The colors were worth it.

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More trails suitable for sure-footed goats

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I stopped here, put my head on my knees, and had a little nap in the sun.

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The plateau where we ate lunch. I tried to lie down in the shade but the animals were being hilarious and I didn't want to miss the show.

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GOATS

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I don't know what got into Jacqueline that day. She kept trying to run away or kick Mohammed.

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On the way down the mountain, I finally started to feel something approaching normal.

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This village was...not our final destination, but at least we were closer.

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Hanging from all of the scrubby mountain trees were huge pods made of what looked like cotton wool...Ibrahim told me that they were caterpillar nests. Here's one that for some reason (I suspect an angry bird) had fallen from its tree and split open.