Photo-op

We were in a little city park, not far from the bus station, our last day in Gifu, where the colors of autumn had already waned and the last leaves had turned brown on the branches and the rest dry beneath our feet or huddled proprietorially about the tree trunks. Evelyn was taking photos, as usual, propping the phone against her backpack or a convenient stone and setting the timer so that we could pose together. An old man came along and offered, in charade language, which is how English-speaking and Japanese speaking people communicate, to take our picture. Insisted, rather. He could not be dissuaded. At the same time, he did not quite understand why she had handed him her phone. At last, he understood that this was a camera, and we stepped back and he aimed the phone shakily, poking at the screen several times before finally succeeding. He was very happy with the photo. Or surprised? Happy and surprised. We were all happy. Together we admired the picture, and he nodded his head, and nodded again, and bowed, and then went dryly on his way on the whispering path toward the barren branches by the gate. 

When in Rome

After staying just briefly at our first hotel in Gifu, Japan (a name which I could not remember for the life of me and kept calling Gufi instead, as in Goofy) we moved to a new hotel closer to our actual planned destinations in Takayama. This hotel was rather out in the boonies, but that could not be helped, as it was the only reasonably priced hotel still available when Evelyn booked, resulting in the need for a 10 minute walk to the bus stop and then a ride into the center of town each day. A bit inconvenient, but not really much of a bother. 

There were, however, a couple of strange things immediately apparent when we entered the hotel. One was that the room was supplied with several condoms. One sometimes finds a wrapped chocolate on the bed pillows, but in this case we found wrapped condoms. As we began to look around and scan the hotel information, Evelyn noted that a number of costumes could be obtained from the manager for cosplay activities. Lol. What kind of hotel was this?

Strange as well was the fact that, as the manager pointed out, whenever our door was shut it would lock us in, making it necessary to call manager to let us out. And whenever we left, we would be locked out until the next check in time, which would be at 6:00 in the evening. That seemed actually rather outrageous to me. I said, But we have paid for five days and nights here, have we not? If every time we leave we are locked out, and cannot, according to the rules, get back in until after 6:00 in the evening, what have we paid for? Sorry, sorry, the manager said, which appeared to be her entire English vocabulary. But, I like to go outside to smoke, I explained. How can I go out and smoke if I will be locked out every time? Well, we got around that simply by just leaving the door wide open, as she advised. 

Nonetheless, I couldn't help but wonder about unforeseen events. What if, for instance, there should be a fire? And what if the manager was unconscious from smoke inhalation? And here we are locked in our room! Absurd, right? Now, as it happened, we were going to be out all day anyway and wouldn't be back again till check in time, but what if some unforeseen circumstance had happened, such as an illness? Say one of us had been sick and really did not feel like going out in the cold all day? That's the weird thing. According to the rules, one had no choice but to check out of the room by noon, physically leave, and not check in again until 6:00. Or was it 8? I forget. Is this not absurd? 

Ah well, when in Rome, do as the absurd Romans do, I guess. It's not like you have a choice.

2nd Japan Trip

Just back from 2 weeks in Japan (although 2 days of that time were spent either in the air or at a point of Transit-- Vietnam on the way and then the Philippines on the return). From Gifu to Shirakawago to Takayama to Kamikochi to Gujo and then back to Gifu, we had a wonderful time, although the temperature was on the chilly side, ranging from 10 to 15° centigrade. Luckily, we had come fairly well prepared, thanks to the always careful and precise planning of Evelyn. Rather than bore you with words, I will simply post some photos. 

Pak Pinjam

There's a guy here in my neighborhood whom I call Pak Pinjam, which means Mr Borrower. He is also the guy who regularly brings food for the dogs. They are not my dogs, but they are generally camped out on my front patio in the morning and the evening, waiting for their food. I guess they figure it's a nice place to eat. The dish brought them is usually rice with chicken feet and a little soup. 

But that is beside the point. 

Pak Pinjam comes from time to time not only with food for the dogs but with a request for money from me. Not for the food, of course, but because he continually needs money for some reason. Neighborhood gossip has it that he gambles, but this cannot be proven. In any case, he always kind of whispers and bows and says that he needs X amount of Rupiah, which he can return to me on the next day. But he never returns the money on the next day, or on many days after. 

I don't know why I keep falling for this. For one thing, the request makes me feel embarrassed somehow. Embarrassed for him, perhaps? Or just embarrassed that anyone would stoop so low as to be asking money from other people, especially a person he doesn't really know or have a relationship with. I don't think I've ever spoken with the man other than when he asks for money.

This last time it was 500,000 he asked for, about 27 USD. The promise once again was that he would pay me tomorrow. 

He did not pay me tomorrow. He did not return any of the money until about a week later, when he gave me half of the loan. Now, some weeks on, I am still waiting for the other half. 

The curious thing is that he shows up every few days and assures me that the money will be "transferred" that very night, which I take to mean that someone for some reason will be transferring money into his account, if he even has one. But then that doesn't happen, and I can't help but wonder why he even says this. I mean, I've heard about three times now that the balance of the loan will be transferred to his account by the end of the day or by tomorrow, at which time he will repay me. Why does he say this? Or better yet, why do I loan him money in the first place?!

At this point, I'm not really figuring on getting the money back at all. Perhaps I will live and learn this time. Perhaps not. If the return is tardy, it has still been returned. But still, it is the principle of the thing, you know? How does the old saying go? Neither a borrower nor a lender be. 

Official

Well, the official diagnosis of my latest shoulder injury is torn tendon in the rotator cuff, along with the pre-existing diagnosis of narrowing ("penyempitan") of the acromioclavicular joint. 

I got two steroid injections into the rotator cuff, and of course I'm told that I need to do physiotherapy. 

I am glad, at least, to find that no operation will be needed. Now if I can just avoid further injuring myself until I get back from Japan, which will be sometime in early November. 

In other news, here in Bali we are suffering through a major gas shortage on the island, which is apparently, as recorded anyway by those responsible, the result of  some kind of delay in the arrival of fuel from Jakarta, from whence it is sent to Bali. It is hard to describe the lines of cars and motorbikes cued up at the gas station. These lines stretch as far as a kilometer and more in each direction on the street. It is taking many hours to reach the pump, and last night I saw people setting up tents to sleep over and wait for the opening in the morning. But there are two pieces of good news, as far as all of this concerns me. One is that I have not been able to drive my motorbike lately because of the shoulder injury, and the second is that I do have 3/4 of a tank when I am ready to try. This, I hope, will last until the fuel situation is straightened out.

Virtuosity

I am amazing. I am a genius. I am a virtuoso of diseases. Usually I develop one problem after another with a space of variable length between problems. But I have advanced. Having barely managed to end up with acromioclavicular joint pain, I have moved straight on to a rotator cuff problem, leaving no space between the two. What did I do to achieve this most recent injury? I really don't know. I remember standing that my kitchen counter and then reaching behind my back my left arm to scratch at something. There was an audible snap and then immediate sharp pain behind the shoulder blade. Keep in mind that the left arm has not had a problem, ever. It has always been a 

The right arm--the broken shoulder surgery, the acromioclavicular joint pain, and now the rotator cuff disaster. And I can tell you that this one hurts. I advise against injuring your rotator cuff in any way. It's not worth it. This has been severe pain, for which I was given muscle relaxers and pain relievers and told to obtain an MRI of the shoulder. This I have now done and I'm scheduled to see the doctor yet again tomorrow for the reading of the MRI and the conclusion regarding what I should do. To make things worse, I am scheduled to travel to Japan on October 30th. Woe is me. They shoot horses, don't they?

Monthly Report

 I see upon glancing at my blog that I have not kept up with reports of my health disorders. I'm sure no one has missed these, but who knows, I might need to look back at some point to keep track of them myself should a doctor want to know when I had this or that. So the last one I wrote about was actually kind of two in one - -a problem with eczema occurring in concert with the flu. Well, I've moved on from that. Always moving forward, as far as poor health is concerned. 

After the flu, or rather on the tail end of the flu, I developed a serious case of gastroesophageal reflux. I've had this before, most notably back in 2019, as I recall. After that time I had little flare-ups now and then, but this latest case was a doozy. I finally seem to have gotten on top of it, although I am still following a very bland diet and taking omeprazole twice a day. 

Therefore, with nothing better to do, I decided to reinjure my shoulder. Apparently this happened when I was raising my arm above my head, as the orthopedist had told me to do. Listening to him as it turns out was not a good idea. What happened was that I irritated my acromioclavicular joint. This is the space between your shoulder blade and your arm. Of course, I did not know specifically what had happened, all I knew is that it hurt like hell over the entire shoulder and down into my chest and back. 

So after suffering for a week or so, I decided I had best go to the doctor, especially considering that I will be headed to Japan later in the month and I did not like the idea of sitting for 8 hours or so on a plane while having an insanely painful shoulder. But, you know, the tickets had already been purchased. 

I had an x-ray at the doctor's office and was informed that, thankfully, there was no damage done to the recent surgery site. Nothing out of place, nothing broken. That was my great fear - - that I would end up in the hospital again with another hospital bill, on top of the expense of the Japan trip. Ruination! 

But no, the doctor explained that this unimpressive little space between bones was responsible for all that impressive pain I was having. I am surprised that no one has ever mentioned this little particular to me before, either in previous physical therapy or after the shoulder surgery. In my case, this space has become extremely narrow due to arthritis and degeneration of cartilage between the bones. 

So now I am taking muscle relaxers, pain medication, and learning exercises designed to decrease pain and keep the joint as stable as possible. 

And I'm not lifting my arm above my head. 

Ever. 

Again. 

Apart from all of this trouble, I have purchased all four books of Elena Ferrante's My Brilliant Friend series. I am currently reading book 2 in Indonesian, which for some reason was not available here in English. Go figure. I'm not really sure why I'm so fond of these novels. Maybe it is because of the excellence of the female viewpoint communicated by Ferrante. For a male reader, it's kind of like continually saying to oneself, Oh, I see, so that's what they are thinking! I dunno, it's just a very engaging story filled with interesting characters, both female and male.