Ear and Beer

Our intention today was to rise early and drive to Munich, spending the day touring the beautiful German city. Instead, we spent time in a doctor’s office in Salzburg. Yikes!

Because I didn’t want to worry my family, I have not mentioned on this blog that a couple of weeks back when we were still in Lourdes, my left ear became completely plugged up with wax to the point that I was entirely unable to hear out of it. I went to a pharmacy in Lourdes and did my best given my inability to speak French to communicate my symptoms to the pharmacist. She finally gave me an ear wash, which I have been faithfully using twice a day in an effort to treat myself. I have been entirely unsuccessful.

I decided that I could put up with my ear problem until we reached Rome, at which time I hoped that Bill’s nephew, who is a priest studying canon law in Rome, would set me up with an English-speaking Italian doctor.

Sometime during last night, I had an epiphany that it made no sense to be in the part of Europe where people speak the best English and not take advantage of that by visiting an English-speaking Austrian doctor. So this morning Bill and I walked to a nearby pharmacy, and the pharmacist gave me the name of an ENT doctor who was located right around the corner who, best of all, spoke English.

We made our way over to the doctor’s office. Now, all of you picture your favorite doctor’s office. It is probably in a nice building, and the office is probably pleasantly colored with lots of magazines and friendly art on the walls. You simply open the door and are greeted by a friendly receptionist.

Instead, we walked down a rather scary looking alley to a series of doors bearing doctors names. Once we located the office of the doctor with whom I was to speak, we walked in the door and saw a stairway. We walked up the stairway, trying not to notice the broken windows. We made it up to the fourth floor, and the door was locked, though the sign had said the hours were 8:30 to noon. We noticed there was a button with the doctor’s name on it, and we pressed the button. We were buzzed in. It was starting to feel like a drug deal.

The reception area was extremely small and gray, and we were able to peer right into the little room where the doctor would do all his procedures. But, to be fair, the receptionist was very kind, and upon hearing of my problem, told me the doctor would see me at “half past 11.” So Bill and I killed some time until I could go back. Bill was especially hilarious by noting that he hoped this doctor didn’t study under Dr. Mengele. Funny man.

We checked back at 11:15, and the receptionist sent us to the waiting room. The waiting room is just off of the reception area, but is entirely separate. You go through a closed metal door and find yourself in a room that is no bigger than my dining room. It has no windows. Chairs line the walls. There were just a few people sitting in the room.

At precisely 11:30, the receptionist called me into the doctor’s office. The doctor couldn’t have been nicer and in about 20 minutes or so, I was good to go. When I opened the door to the waiting room to get Bill, he was sitting there all alone, except for two nuns, sitting right beside him. These nuns were straight out of The Sound of Music. They had the full habits and their hands were hidden in their habits, undoubtedly fingering their rosaries. I had another one of my giggling fits.

Our middle son had indicated that we needed to visit a particular beer garden called the Augustiner before we said our goodbye to Salzburg. After seeing the doctor, we walked over to the Augustiner. It didn’t open until 3, so we ate lunch elsewhere and went back. We are so glad we got a chance to see it. The Augustiner is a wonderful, extremely large beer garden that looks just like it is out of a movie set. Bill and I each had a beer and watched the people enjoy the weather and the locally-made brew. The process to get your beer is interesting. You can either do it yourself or be served. Doing it yourself is less expensive. You pay for your beer, and then you pick out your mug from a rack holding hundreds of mugs. You wash it out and give it to the man who fills the mug with beer from a wooden keg. There are a series of kiosks with all different kinds of food to enjoy with your beer, including white radishes that are spiral cut so they look almost like paper. It was such a relief to celebrate now that I can hear again.

Tomorrow morning we leave for Italy. We are both looking forward to being in the country we love so much. We will spend the next six nights in Padova in the Veneto region of Italy. From there we will visit Venice, Verona, Trieste, Pula (in Croatia), Modena, Bologna, and who knows where else! And we can eat some pizza. Yay!