Sorry for the radio silence here, but perhaps you’ve been following my travels over on Instagram, a platform that is easier to use for quick updates while on the go and with limited data, Wifi access, time, and energy.
If you’ve been following me there, you’ll know that we had a great start on the Via Francigena walking the 20 kilometres from Siena to just outside Quinciano — stunning landscapes under blue skies and sunshine, a wind lively enough that we didn’t overheat, and the few sprinkles happening only when we were close enough to our warm, dry room. . .
And then leaving the next day, back on the VF just outside Quinciano, I fell and twisted my ankle at about 1.5 kilometres. Managed the next 9 with the growing recognition that I wasn’t likely going to be walking the next day’s 16. Or the 15 of the day after. . . .If you’ve read my IG posts, you’ll know that I worked hard to reframe the setback, and for the most part I succeeded. Later (I promise) I’m going to write a more nuanced summary of those few days — so far, I’ve only trusted myself to show you what I was able to salvage out of the disappointment. Observing the beauty surrounding me from the vantage of a seat with my foot elevated. You may have guessed that the truth was a bit complicated, and my husband would confirm that guess for you. As I say, more later.
But there have been so many precious moments, and a renewed appreciation for what “slow travel” can mean.
Yesterday, though, when I got a ride to our next destination (and this has been part of the challenge this week, the packing up and moving on each day, now complicated by having to get me and my foot to the next pre-booked, pre-paid hotel instead of us walking and the luggage being transported separately), yesterday we thought my foot was recovered enough to do the ride on my own, and get myself checked into a hotel and into our room (the company had booked us a “3-star” hotel on the VF route; we’d assumed that meant an elevator; we were wrong). . . . and Paul set off to walk what would have been “our” hardest day — 31 kilometres.
He worried about leaving me on my own, but I knew I’d manage fine (I did! even hauled our two small cases up the first flight of stairs to hotel reception!) and I knew he was itching to get on the trail. Besides, if we couldn’t do the walk together this time, at least he could report back to me and we’d know more about how to undertake our next attempt. Because there will be one, if at all possible.
That morning, though, I began to wonder about an occasional tenderness that reminded me of something from a few years back. I drank water. And more water, And hoped I was just imagining the tenderness. But instead of going away, it got more insistent. Meanwhile I knew that he was still moving with confidence and joy (albeit some natural fatigue) along the path, and I saw no benefit in letting him know that I was beginning to whimper from the discomfort and, eventually, pain. After all, he couldn’t do anything from where he was and if he started hurrying and worrying, we risked the possibility of another injury. Nope, that wouldn’t be good.
The story’s not done yet, and I’m tiring here, but I will tell you that a couple of phone calls (many, many minutes and much bureaucratic information-gathering) to our travel insurance plan, and we were directed to the local Emergency where I had tests done (will go back in first thing tomorrow for an Echogram). Since I was sent home with speculation but no relief, this morning (last night was NOT a good night!) my sweet guy took his limited Italian to the pharmacy around the corner. She spoke English with him — and made him so hopeful that he brought me back to her (three flights of stairs in each direction; no lift, remember?) and she and I spoke Italian together.
You never really know the strengths and the limitations of your mastery of a second language until you have to file a “denuncia” at the local Carabinieri station, as I did last year when my purse was stolen in Rome. Turns out that another good test is trying to understand medical terminology through a face mask when you are hearing-impaired. Lots of “Huh?” on my face and “Potrebbe ripetere, per favore, un po’ piu lentamente?” on my lips and my discomfort and pain being compounded by a strong sense of feeling stupid and frustrated. That was my experience at Emergency yesterday, although in retrospect all who helped me were efficient and thoughtful and kind enough. Possibly a wee bit impatient, but I might have been projecting. (Paul was stopped at the door and told to wait outside, and they put my bag (with my phone inside) out of my reach, so he waited close to an hour with no idea what was happening.)
But this lovely pharmacist listened with sympathy (might be that women “get” the situation with UTIs more quickly or easily or genuinely empathetically than men can) — and explaining that she couldn’t dispense what she thought I needed without a prescription, she called a doctor for me. Explained the situation to this (young, female) doctor, set up an immediate appointment for me, and within half an hour I was back with a prescription for antibiotics and another for pain relief (warning not to take it except for really strong pain — honestly, that one scares me a bit, and I’ve managed without it, and the antibiotic seems to have kicked in.
The plan is to honour the ultrasound appointment tomorrow morning, just to be on the safe side, but I’m feeling well enough this evening that I’m going to go downstairs for dinner. Sadly, no wine because of the antibiotic, but I’m feeling well enough to sit in a room full of Italians talking animatedly all around me, delicious smells wafting from every direction. Feeling hungry enough, after two days of lost appetite.
We move again tomorrow — the two days here in Acquapendente were a planned luxury, and the pause has declared itself a necessity instead. I’ll take it , a different kind of luxury — I can’t imagine having had to move towns this morning! But I’m looking forward to our next destination (our last one before we say good-bye to our Italian crew and head back home), and I’ll share that with you here or on Instagram soon. Let’s cross our fingers (“incrociamo le dita”) my optimism will be rewarded. 😉
I think if I fiddle now with editing much, this will never get sent, so I hope there aren’t too many typos or misspellings!
xo,
f
Illustrations for this post, top to bottom: an amusing sign at the WC door of the very busy bar of the modest hotel (at a gas station, on a highway) we stayed in a few days ago; my watercolour response to the cheery ceramic tiles in the small but efficient red-and-white bathroom (with the dangerous toilet seat!) in that same hotel; Sketch in my tiny sketch journal (paper not really great for taking watercolour) while we waited for our room to be ready the next day at an absolutely splendid Agriturismo; and in that same Agriturismo, while Paul was out walking as much of the route as he could manage after getting me settled, I set out my (limited — that tiny brush! Ugh!) sketching supplies and tried to get a watercolour landscape into my Watercolour Sketchbook. I’ll try to remember to show you the finished version later.
I am so sorry to hear your plight. My only experience with Italian medicine was a terrible cough and cold in Florence when a pharmacist directed me to a powerful over the counter cough drop which cured me and which I only wish I could get in the US. Also once had a UTI in London and saw a private doctor in tony Hans Crescent. Medicated me and sent a bill to me in the US which I gratefully paid. I hope you are feeling better soon.
Author
I’ve heard this about Italian (and French and possibly other European) pharmacists before, and was so grateful to see for myself how helpful this one was!
I am so sorry this happened to you, though you seem to be making ‘lemonade from lemons’, fairly well. It must be so frustrating and disappointing. Your water colours are lovely. Hope you are recovering, and feeling better.
Author
I tell myself it’s part of travel, but I can admit to having had a crying bout (or two)! Thanks for the kind words.
Oh, Frances, I feel your pain both literally and figuratively. My husband and I are ending week 1 of a 6 week trip to England and Ireland and on day 4 I stumbled, fell and broke my left wrist while in on a walking tour of Canterbury. Let’s just say the ensuing 13+ hours in two different emergency rooms of the UK’s NHS were harrowing. As an American I’ve always rued the expensive and what I thought was inefficient American medical insurance system. Not anymore! Nontheless we are forging on, thanks to my dear husband’s willingness to help me with damn near everything. I hope you recover quickly and can salvage joy from the experiences you’re having, different though they may be from what you envisioned.
Author
Oh no! This is horrid news, Elizabeth! From everything I’ve read and heard, this last decade’s cuts to the once stalwart NHS have brought British healthcare to crisis. Sorry your poor wrist had to experience that up close. (My vote will always go to a political party doing its best to ensure access to medical care for all (usually aligns with my other priorities, fortunately ;-)), and I’m happy to pay the taxes that takes — best value I can imagine for my $$!)
I strongly second this!
Twisted ankle is one thing but a UTI…universe needs to let up a bit, I think. Hope the antibiotics work and you get a better night’s sleep.
Author
This is exactly what I’m thinking, thank you! Come On, Universe!
So very sorry to hear of your trials, Frances! Hopefully the antibiotic will do it’s job and the ankle heal sufficiently for you to be able to salvage something of this trip.
Author
Thank you! Antibiotic seems to be working and I’m hoping to gather enough strength to endure the flight home in a few days!
Oh my goodness….the UTI AND the language barrier sound like a dire emergency.
The ankle was enough to deal with…you have my utmost sincere sympathy.
I know that you will make the best of this situation :-))
Leslie
Author
Thanks! As you’ve seen on IG, we’ve landed in a pretty spot for resting up.
Grr, argh, sometimes things just…well, you know…
Instead of all the swears and rails against fate I wanted to say above I’ll try to amuse you with my adventures in Italian pharmacies. The latest of which was last month when I once again ended up with an Italian cold. I thought the parafarmacia was going to ban me, I was going through a bottle of cough syrup every couple of days. But all was well in the end. At the ‘full’ farmacia, the women were lovely and gave me the ‘forte-forte’ meds from the back area. AND sold me a sunscreen of such perfection I went back to stock up on that product line before I came home. They piled free gifts on me…grabbing a full sized cleanser from the shelf…’un regalo’…a special bag (rejecting mine) ‘un regalo’…then a handful of samples ‘un regalo’…
But the first, best, and funniest, happened when I was in my late 40s, in Venice, at 11 months and 29 days from my last period (well roughly but in my memory exactly that). Menopause, that trickster, decided to pass me by for a bit and I had to make an unexpected visit to the farmacia…when I went up to the counter with a load of extra-absorbent this and super-plus that the woman (roughly my age) just looked at me and gave the most sympathetic groan you ever heard.
Take care, thinking of you, it will all be a story some day…xo
Author
Thanks for sharing these anecdotes — picturing them very clearly has been a great distraction. We women and these wonderful moments of sorority and solidarity, eh? xo
Oh Frances, I’m so sorry to hear about your misadventures. I can clearly hear your stoicism throughout the post but also your disappointment. All the best (and your watercolours are beautiful!)x
Author
Such kind and encouraging words, Genevieve, Thank you!
Real life has a way of intruding on our perfect holidays & for some reason , the misadventures of our travels are more vivid than most of the perfect times . I can still see the face of the young Turkish pharmacist who bandaged my wrenched ankle years ago . Plus I can remember the exact ( tricky ) conversation I had with the pharmacist on a small Italian island about my mal de stomacho – complete with a charade enquiring as to which end of my body was causing the problem ! We laugh now about Max being arrested by Turkish police holding serious guns , after we hit a young boy who ran in front of our hire car ( he was fine , we nearly wrote ourselves off ) But that’s enough of my problems & it’s back to yours . Hope you are fighting fit again very soon & able to look back on this trip as reconnaissance for next time . Meanwhile go hug that granddaughter . I bet there’s been a few choice swear words used in the last few days 😉
Author
“Life intervening,” a phrase I heard decades ago that really stuck with me and that I hear in the opening of your comment. It’s so true, especially with travel. Of course, it doesn’t really intervene, it’s just life, and we learn something more about it — and about ourselves — when we travel. Travelling a pilgrimage route like the VF, I try to think that falling and having to stop on my second day I was nonetheless continuing “the journey.”
I love reading and picturing your anecdotes (the male doctor at the emergency room trying to ascertain the state of my bowels and resorting to the, er, family term, “cacca.” How horrifying those first moments after hitting the young boy must have been — whew! glad that had a happy ending!
And you’re right! I’ve had reason to chuckle again over that post Sue shared about friends with great vocabularies who nonetheless used their four-letter words regularly and effectively 😉
What a nasty double whammy! Really hoping that things look up for you. Negotiating medical interactions in Italian while in pain was quite an achievement. Much fellow-feeling from me – early in my marriage I spent years trying and failing to learn to ski in order to ski with my husband, an excellent skier. I have done the tour of doctors’ surgeries and A&E waiting rooms in several Austrian and Norwegian ski resorts, as EVERY TIME I would fall and injure myself. Favourite interaction, at €60 in Austria in 1988, when €60 was a tidy sum, was the doctor who measured both my thighs with a tape measure and then pronounced that I had injured the right one and that it was swollen. Which I didn’t need to spend €60 to find out! A lot of winter holidays spent drinking too much hot chocolate in albeit gemütlich cafés and sitting on balconies looking out at snowy slopes…
Hoping the antibiotics really whack the UTI on the head, and that the ankle continues to improve.
Author
I had to read your comment to my husband and we both laughed so hard — so just now that you continue to get value out of those 60E!! Thank you!
Dear oh dear! Some things are awful enough at home,let alone while travelling…..Hopefully,you are much better now ,ready to enjoy days with your Italian crew
I have an experience with 3* hotels in Italy,without elevators….I’ve managed somehow, with a little child and luggage,now it would be a catastrophe for me
Dottoressa
Author
I can see that the absence of lifts keeps the already fit in shape, but what a hardship when we’re not in such fine fettle! (and how did you ever manage with your little guy and baggage, back in the day?! You were and are truly a force! Brava!)
oh no! but I am impressed as always by the way you and Paul share the downs and ups of life. your Italian must be good to have taken you through that experience. my Spanish is getting better all the time but I still struggle with unexpected situations and with understanding sometimes even more than with speaking myself. and as another commentator says, you are so good at taking the positive from what must have been such a difficult time. love your illustrations!
Author
Aw, thanks for all the kind words, Elizabeth! It’s true that I’m gaining confidence that my Italian will work for most situations now, although I might often have to ask someone to slow down or repeat or explain. And my hearing limitations are a complication, even in English, so in another language (and at the hospital, with a mask over the lips, yikes!!)
A UTI when on holidays is no fun. After a couple of such episodes a few years apart, I now get my doctor to write me a prescription for antibiotics and ask the pharmacist when the pills will expire, so that I can renew the prescription when the time comes. I bring them with me on every trip, short or long, domestic or international. Of course, I haven’t had a UTI in the 8 years since!
Author
I did exactly this for my last couple of trips before the pandemic and then became complacent when I had two trouble-free years. The “just-in-case” prescription expired (I was tempted to bring them along this time, but thought better of it since they were three years past their best-by date!). I’m making an appointment to plan some preventive/remedial action as soon as I get back (and if I could copy your success, it would be the best prophylactic ever — 8 years UTI free, Wow!)
Ugh! That really su… well, you know. Just hope everything improves before your trip ends. You have my sympathy.
Author
Thanks, Sue! And I’m so glad your husband got his cellphone back! Another example of travel’s ups and downs. Enjoy the rest of your Paris days!
Oh no! That sounds so painful for you and so disappointing after all the planning. I hope the medication continues to work and that you are feeling fit for your journey home. The watercolours are really good; I love your response to the ceramic tiles, it’s beautiful.
so sorry to hear about your trials and tribulations. It’s bad enough to have that happen at home but while traveling it can really drag you down.
I am very sorry for the required change in plans and, I confess, looking forward to your thoughtful musings on the experience as it played out.
For having encountered two major difficulties at the same time AND far from home, you sound very positive! I hope you find relief soon!! My store … years ago when I was traveling (my first trip to Europe), I dislocated my toe in the Metro in Paris. With a week of travels yet to go, my foot swelled to the point where wearing a shoe was impossible. Several days later as we were walking (slowly) in Amsterdam, my friend and I came upon a lone clog in the middle of a narrow street. Unbelievably, it fit my foot perfectly and I was able to avoid going shoeless for the rest of my vacation. Where this clog came from is a mystery … but the fact that it fit and appeared when I needed it was indeed divine intervention!
** story ** not store
What a story! I’m so glad that you were able to get antibiotics and start on the road to recovery. Whew! I’m wondering what someone who doesn’t speak Italian does in this situation, but I think that a trip to a kind pharmacist with a translation app or language book would probably work. Thank goodness for kind people. When I think of the impatient reception I often receive at our chain pharmacies in the US, I feel sorry for anyone seeking help.
I am imagining you feeling better and enjoying the food, the people around you and the sights for the last leg of your journey.
Oh Frances, what a challenging time you’ve had, it never rains but it pours. Being injured and ill away from home is very hard. None of your familiar surroundings, no access to tried and tested health care providers and a different language to contend with. I had some health misadventures on a 5 month European trip as a student many years ago from which I learned a great deal, mostly about how resourceful I could be when I had to. Happily, you seem to be coming out the other side splendidly. The sketches and watercolours are evidence of your ability to make the best of things. This episode highlights the differences between IG and blogging. Your IG updates made things seem better than they were whereas a blog is more nuanced. Take care, and safe travels home.
I feel so sorry this has happened to you but I do admire you for trying to make the best of it. And trying to negotiate the Italian medical system. I am having a difficult time enough of it trying to deal with the local docs trying to figure out why I am having dizzy spells. It may be that I am not drinking enough water so dehydrated. Here’s hoping you heal quickly and get safely home.
Looks like a nice alternative to walking with the reading, painting and more intense village life. But that UTI, darn!! Hope you are well now and have moved on to the next chapter of your lovely trip.
BTW, thanks to your lovely sight, I updated “smithposts” with a template from pipdig. They were incredibly helpful and were able to integrate my Blogger blog that I walked away from in 2013 into my wordpress blog. I get to keep all the early pictures and stories of my family, yay! Now, if I could just provide such interesting stories…