Mon 12.May.2014
Nerja, Andalucia, Spain
It is a nice enough seaside vacation town, but not that all much to do.
I had planned a week here when I came. So why am I into my third week now?
How many people do you know who have actually screwed their teeth up by flossing?
I broke off a crown last week that was tenuously attached to a dead root canal.
Suddenly, I no longer needed to decide what to do with my remaining week-and-a-half
in Spain.
After contacting four (five?) dental clinics, I took my troubles to Jesus.
Dr. Jesus Martin got right to work. I chose to go for a real implant,
rather than another tweak. Now the old root is gone, I get a temporary bridge this
Wednesday, and I get to detour here again next October en route to Rhodes, to get the
real implant installed.
There could be worse detours, though I don't expect the Costa del Sol
to be quite as full of sol at Halloween as it is now.
Why wait so long to plant the im, so to speak?
The bone around the dead root
canal is too soft right now. It needs at least four months to harden up.
In a way, this hassle picked a good time and place to happen. My only insurance,
Medicare, does not pay for dental work. The same operation in California, with the
same top-of-the-line implant, would cost more than flying to Spain and
having it done here anyway.
The biggest downside, other than the expense and hassle, is that I won't reach
Rhodes until early November. I'll miss the buzz and energy of the last few weeks
of the tourist season there; the streets will already be quiet and contemplative.
So what am I going to do? Complain about when Winter comes? Leave that to
the folks who think they have a line to the Powers In Charge.
There is still
no place I would rather spend my Winter season.
What would travel be without
the occasional adventure? We don't know - it has never happened.
What do vacationers do in Nerja when they are not lying on the beach?
Among other things, they take photos of each other. And I take photos of them.
So here I am in Nerja for the rest of the week. The plan calls for a
Sunday night train from
Granada to Barcelona, connecting (cross fingers!) Monday morning with a
bullet train to Paris.
By then I'll be thankful for a few days moving no faster
than my feet and the city bus can take me.
Hasta Luego!