Sick and Tired...and Immigration stories

February 28, 2010

As I finished my last blog I was dreaming of Morocco, warm sun,  lamb...couscous.   Sorry, no stories, only one  picture..

Sick and Tired
I went to Morocco and came back sick.  I came back to Paris sick as a dog. I have heard the term"caught a chill" but never understood it before.... until I caught a chill in Morocco. Morocco was not warm, it was cold and wet and on my 2nd day there I got very cold at work, and could not get warm. I went back to the hotel and sat in a warm, no a hot tub of water for 1/2 an hour, and could not get warm. The next day I was sick. I came back to Paris feeling awful. Genya  was in Paris for a visit, and she spent 3 days trying to nurse me back to health.  (I was still dragging myself to work, then spent the weekend sleeping). Finally I realized this was not getting better and called Kohlers international health number and was told to go to the "American Hospital in Paris".  Genya escorted me and waited for me, part of her vacation in Paris. She probably got postcards from the hospital gift shop :).

 I was there from 9:00 am until about 2:00 pm, had x-rays, blood and multiple other tests. The Dr. must have thought I had pneumonia but it turned out to be a bronchial infection. (as predicted by Susie).  I got a prescription for 2 antiobiotics, and finally in a few days I started to feel better. I was under the weather for about 10 days (the only good thing is I lost another 4 pounds). My tiredness lasted into the 2nd week, so in Kohler last week I was not a lot of fun. The experience at the American Hospital in Paris was OK, took a bit long, but in the end they got it right. I had to pay cash for everything, hopefully my insurance will re-imburse me.

Immigration

Morocco Immigration

I have been traveling internationally now for about 4 and a half years. In almost every country I go to the immigration inspection is, to be generous, prefunctory, brief and always without any conversation. (OK, Canadian Immigration sometimes hassle me, and the US usually say 'Welcome Home")  Outside of english speaking countries, I stand on the yellow footmarks, I smile, I look into the the camera, I get my passport back and proceed to baggage claim...except on my last trip. In both Morocco and Spain, I had some conversation with the authorities...first Morocco.
As I was coming into Morocco, the officer asked me if I was Labanese. "No, I am Canadian". Silence. Then he asked me if my father was Lebanese. "No, my father was Canadian". Silence. Then perhaps he suggested hopefully, my mother was Lebanese (maybe my parents did not marry?). "No, my mother was Irish". Disappointed, but blocked at every turn, he admited me to the Kingdom of Morocco. No doubt still thinking that somewhere in my background is a Lebanese relative.  This got me to thinking, is Inman an Lebanese name?  I Googled the name. As a first name it is rare. As a last name, more common (comes from the English, Inn Keeper). In the 1990 US census it is # 1352 out of over 88,000 last names. When you Google the name all the references are English (we have a Crest, but it costs $15.00 for a PDF, so you will have to google it yourself)

http://www.houseofnames.com/xq/asp.fc/qx/inman-family-crest.htm

No where when I Google "Inman" does Lebanon come up....  Any suggestions?

Spanish Immigration

I am not even sure why I had to go thru Spanish Immigration, I was in transit returning from Morocco.  However I had to go between terminals in Madrid, and ended up going thru Immigration. The two terminals in Madrid are about a mile apart, I have never seen such a disconnected airport. 

 I guess it is my fault. On the form they give you on the plane, when it asked for permanent residence I put down my US address. When I got to the officer, he asked me, "where do you live". Paris I said (remember, I was sick, probably sweating, bleary eyes). He looks at me and says "You said you lived in the US?".  I tried to explain, but at  this point he has reason to be suspicious and begins to thumb thru my passport. "Why were you in Thailand last month " he asks. "Why for only 3 days"? 'Why did you go to India, who did you meet there, did you bring back anything"  I am thinking to myself, he is figuring I have been in Morocco, India, Thailand....three drug centers of the world in two weeks. I did bring back chocolate covered dried mango from Thailand, nothing from India and from Morocco only a damn cold. I do have drugs...Tylenol cold medicine  However in the spirit of experienced  travelers worldwide who know a mad immigration officer is a recipe for a missed flight and a full body inspection, I just smiled and  shrugged.  After more slow thumbing of my passport, he finally took out his stamp, stamped my passport and handed it to me with no more questions. The look in his eye seemed to say "move on", so I did.

However, the Madrid Airport is beautiful (I can almost hear my sister saying" Airport...beautiful ?  Bro, get a life. Oceans are beautiful, forests are beautiful, babies are beautiful....but airports...?"). However it is bright, sunny and full of reds and yellows.

I promise my next blog will be more cheerful....