I spent the past weekend on a 3-night cruise to Ensendada, Mexico. My cousin organized the trip in honor of her youngest son’s 21st birthday, and my sister and I basically invited ourselves along. (The birthday boy and I do share the same birthday though, so I figure that lent some legitimacy to horning in on his celebration.)
I lined up the pet sitter, packed way too many clothes for three days, and set off for the pier, leaving feline diabetes behind for a few days.
Well, almost…
You see, one feature of Ensenada is pharmacies. Farmacia. They are everywhere, as prevalent as ABC stores in Hawaii or Duane-Reade in New York. Big signs proclaim ready access to antibiotics, geriatrics, and Viagra. No prescription necessary, just some dollars. If somehow you manage to miss the signs, there are helpful young men outside promising that you can find “everything” in their particular farmacia. Just step inside!
Since my sister, her husband, and I had some time to kill after an ATV tour of Ensenada’s dusty outskirts we wandered the main drag in town where it dawned on me: Maybe those pricey test strips would be cheaper south of the border. We stepped into the first farmacia.
Now, I don’t speak much Spanish (full disclosure: I don’t speak any Spanish) but here in Ensenada, where cruise ships full of Americans arrive on a daily basis, the locals make a point of speaking English. So, in this farmacia I asked for blood glucose test strips. In return I got a blank look, along with a pen and paper, where I wrote
Blood glucose test strips “Freestyle”
Ah! Glucosa!
Si, I replied.
“No, no.” said the pharmacy clerk, “Go to Farmacia del Sol, across the street.”
“Muchas gracias”
My sister spotted Farmacia del Sol on the far side of the busy boulevard, but we were headed to the shopping district, populated with dozens of other pharmacies, so we turned in the opposite direction.
Two or three pharmacies later, I was convinced that Mexican diabetics must somehow manage without testing, because none of the pharmacies carried test strips. One man assured me it would be very difficult to find them. In the fifth pharmacy (yes, my sister and her husband are very patient with me) I asked “But, what do diabetics do??” And I was told to go to Farmacia del Sol. They were guaranteed to have what I wanted. In the meantime, did I need any antibiotics?
Since it was on the way back to the ship, we did, in fact, stop in Farmacia del Sol. And there, in a glass case, was a display of One Touch Ultra meters and test strips, along with one box of Ascensia Contour strips. No Freestyle – but if you recall, my horde of meters includes several One Touch Ultra Minis. For the right price, I’d ditch the Freestyle in a heartbeat.
When it was finally my turn (after a fellow cruise passenger got her hands on some discount birth control pills) I found they had no Freestyle strips. The price of the OneTouch strips?? About $55 for 50. Yikes! The meter companies obviously have no problem using their greedy tactics beyond the US borders. No Mexican test strips for me.
But I didn’t come home empty-handed: I veered from my test strip quest long enough to bargain a street vendor down to $15 for two pairs of silver earrings.
I lined up the pet sitter, packed way too many clothes for three days, and set off for the pier, leaving feline diabetes behind for a few days.
Well, almost…
You see, one feature of Ensenada is pharmacies. Farmacia. They are everywhere, as prevalent as ABC stores in Hawaii or Duane-Reade in New York. Big signs proclaim ready access to antibiotics, geriatrics, and Viagra. No prescription necessary, just some dollars. If somehow you manage to miss the signs, there are helpful young men outside promising that you can find “everything” in their particular farmacia. Just step inside!
Since my sister, her husband, and I had some time to kill after an ATV tour of Ensenada’s dusty outskirts we wandered the main drag in town where it dawned on me: Maybe those pricey test strips would be cheaper south of the border. We stepped into the first farmacia.
Now, I don’t speak much Spanish (full disclosure: I don’t speak any Spanish) but here in Ensenada, where cruise ships full of Americans arrive on a daily basis, the locals make a point of speaking English. So, in this farmacia I asked for blood glucose test strips. In return I got a blank look, along with a pen and paper, where I wrote
Blood glucose test strips “Freestyle”
Ah! Glucosa!
Si, I replied.
“No, no.” said the pharmacy clerk, “Go to Farmacia del Sol, across the street.”
“Muchas gracias”
My sister spotted Farmacia del Sol on the far side of the busy boulevard, but we were headed to the shopping district, populated with dozens of other pharmacies, so we turned in the opposite direction.
Two or three pharmacies later, I was convinced that Mexican diabetics must somehow manage without testing, because none of the pharmacies carried test strips. One man assured me it would be very difficult to find them. In the fifth pharmacy (yes, my sister and her husband are very patient with me) I asked “But, what do diabetics do??” And I was told to go to Farmacia del Sol. They were guaranteed to have what I wanted. In the meantime, did I need any antibiotics?
Since it was on the way back to the ship, we did, in fact, stop in Farmacia del Sol. And there, in a glass case, was a display of One Touch Ultra meters and test strips, along with one box of Ascensia Contour strips. No Freestyle – but if you recall, my horde of meters includes several One Touch Ultra Minis. For the right price, I’d ditch the Freestyle in a heartbeat.
When it was finally my turn (after a fellow cruise passenger got her hands on some discount birth control pills) I found they had no Freestyle strips. The price of the OneTouch strips?? About $55 for 50. Yikes! The meter companies obviously have no problem using their greedy tactics beyond the US borders. No Mexican test strips for me.
But I didn’t come home empty-handed: I veered from my test strip quest long enough to bargain a street vendor down to $15 for two pairs of silver earrings.
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