Monster Update!!

Greetings Friends!

Please forgive the neglection of my little blog. 2nd Semester at Ross is notorious for being wicked, and it’s living up to its reputation. We had an Immuno exam this morning, which was horrid. 75 pages of notes, multiple choice, matching, true/false, fill-in the blanks. I haven’t done fill in the blanks in a looong time so we were worried, but that part was actually not bad.

Amidst the chaos of school, I’ve also been house/petsitting for my friend whose mother unfortunately passed away about a week ago. He promptly returned to the states, while I offered to take care of the dog. Little did I know…this is an obsese French bulldog named Louis Vuitton. Right. Not my kind of dog. He’s so damn spoiled, and of course is miserable with me. I boss him around, which does NOT happen when his owner’s here. I also withhold treats. Why do people feed so many treats? I just don’t get it. And my rules are different, i.e. there are rules. I cleaned the house, which was unacceptable per him since now it smells funny. It’s been an adventure. I’ll throw a photo on here of his miserable pouty face. You can imagine he’s not thrilled with the puppy Nazi. He’s getting a walk today since he got totally neglected yesterday while I was freaking out about the exam.

Going night diving tomorrow evening! I’m thrilled. There is no time in the 2nd schedule, so I haven’t been since the very beginning of the semester. I’ve got to get the arm and strobe set up for my camera. It will be a much-needed break from studying.

We’ve just completed vessels (veins, arteries, nerves) of the thoracic and pelvic limbs in the canine + equine plus reproductive systems in Anatomy. Moving on to skull, head, cranial nerve testing.

Immuno: Innate Immune System. Hell if I can tell you much about it. Not true, I know more than I’d admit. But it’s like learning a new language since I have absolutely NO prior Immunology exposure.

Renal in Physio. More than you ever wanted to know about the kidney. The gods of vet school are the liver and kidney.

Parasit – Just wrapped up canine/feline parasites. Pop quiz (suspected) tomorrow. On to Equine tomorrow.

Mom and Dad come to visit in approx 2 weeks. I should be excited but the portending Physio exam between me and Midsemester break dampens my spirits. We’ll probably have a lobster dinner and I’ll show them the various beaches, etc. I’m interested to see their reaction to the island/student life here.

Little blue is amazing as ever and gets me anywhere I need to go. They require yearly wheel tax & inspections here. I happened to swing by with a friend to pick up her car yesterday and surprisingly they were willing to fit me in. The woman hardly looked at my vehicle and simply checked everything off. Hmm, ok. They concluded that I have a problem with my reverse lights. Upon finding that the bulb is fine, they suggested an electrician. But they gave me the approval papers anyway… I guess they assume I’m going to hunt down some creepy man down some radom road who may or may not be there ever. Unfortunately, reverse lights are not a priority of mine in this situation.

Please do not envision a stateside mechanic of any sort. This is a shack in the middle of, well, the ghetto. It’s shady. You wander in with you car. A creature may or may not crawl out of the woodwork who likely has not seen a shower in at least 10 years. Good luck determining what this man is saying when he opens his mouth, which is of course toothless. You keep an eye on your car and attempt to drive it onto a less-than-sturdy looking platform for “inspection,” which consists of turning the headlights on and off. The paper is simply a smudgy scrap with a few checkmarks and a scribbled signature. But you by god better have it when you go to pay your wheel tax. Otherwise if you are caught driving without it or with an expired version, you go straight to jail where not one but two locals are required to bail you out. Feel free to drink and drive, and don’t forget your open container of alcohol. Stay refreshed. But buckle your seatbelt or you are going to jail, no questions asked.

Oh my, how could I forget to describe my recent customs experience. Being the excellent friend that I am, I offer to collect a package for my friend who’s just lost his mom as he is alas, off the island. Little do I know the event I’m in for. So far, I’ve had the glorious experience of retrieving packages from the Post Office which is quite a process involving document collection, transit to and from a hard-to-access facility, etc. etc. I’ve also learned the processes for UPS, and FedEx with similar systems. I thought I had a good idea of the system. So I unsuspectedly begin to hunt for my friend’s tiny box.

Monday, 10am (had 1 hour 20 min in between class. Plenty of time. Hahahahahahahahahahhaahahhah……. The irony)
Step 1. “Broker” Office. Do not be fooled. The broker here is Lydia. These boys hit on me, charge me a variety of fees, and 45 minutes later procure the document I supposedly need. I had already attempted collection on Friday and was instructed to return.

Step 2. Retrieve stamp from some other random office. Not clear why.

Step 3. 10:40ish Thinking I might make it back to class in time.
Arrive at transit shed II. Behind razor wire, sketchy locals, drunken, drooling, scattered along entrance and throughout area. It’s clear they don’t work here. Here comes this white girl in here flip-flops, flowery top, and laptop slung over her shoulder ready to make heads roll. Laughter ensues.

Get lost looking for transit shed II. Find it, and woman disappears with my papers for 30 minutes. I abandon all hope of returning in time for class when I scan the wall and begin to read the TWELVE STEP PROCESS I have only just begun. My eyes are about to pop out of my head and my jaw is on the floor. Lady returns, empty-handed and gets on the phone for 17 minutes, to no resolution. SURPRISE, they can’t find it!! They turn me away at step 1! I promptly call the man who tried to “take me over there himself, by myself” yeah no. demand his assistance since he already pried time and money from my hands this morning. He arrives and begins hitting on the employees. Great. Somehow, they procure the package! I’m waiting for someone down the line to say, hey! You don’t look like your name is Bryan.

Imagine the DMV but WORSE! I must proceed to 10 separate windows, paying separate people $1, $4, $100, $25, and so on… while they value the goods and give me the once-over, again and again. I’m also being physically shoved and stomped one by large, loud, pimped-out, bling-sporting locals who are shouting at the top of their lungs into their cell phones and at the employees and skipping me in line. Somehow I get through this intact, and proceed eight steps later with the box to the exit.

STOP! You must obtain a gate pass from window X in the corner. Keep in mind that 75% of these mystery windows are unmanned. Oh and the “system” continues to “go down” at various times during which there is nothing you can do and you are forced to wait and simply hope that the system will be magically repaired. Absurdity. Some nice man asks me how this compares to the “process” in the US. I try to avoid ripping him to shreds, muttering that packages in the US get delivered to your effing house!!!! Hello?!?!?

2.5 hours and 200 EC (65US) later, I have Bryan’s measly package and I’m high-tailing it out of the customs complex, never to return. Breathing fire into the phone about what I just went through for his stupid electronic box. Ugh.

Catamaran trip to Nevis on Friday. I’m well equipped with glow-sticks and I’m driving, as usual. Will be an interesting night full of drunken chaos. Entertainment for sure. Perhaps this time my colleagues will keep their clothes on this time. Doubtful.

Bye for now. Will keep the updates more frequent from now on.

- lkc