mrs-roboto's Diaryland Diary
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Day 5 or Gigdet of the Greater New York Area Takes Over
We had reserved the next day of our trip for beach lounging and surfing. Yes, I said surfing. It may strike some of you as weird but I've always wanted to learn how to surf. In fact, as a child I sort of fancied myself the redheaded Gigdet of the Greater New York area. Sadly, that concrete jungle offered few opportunities for living out my dreams. Coney Island is cool for a run down, economically depressed, oceanside ghetto with sideshows but the surf ..... eh, kind of lame. And the water ...... well after a ton of medical waste washed up on shore in the early 80's I decided to stop swimming there. I'm crazy like that.
We scoped out several surf rental shops in Mal Pais and decided on the one with the stinkiest surf bum inside. Actually, we had no idea he was stinky until we entered the shack but I think I can say quite safely that he was the smelliest guy in all of Mal Pais and with the number of ex-pat, dreadlocked, hippies hanging about that town, that's saying something. He called B.C. home but traveled down south every winter to hang on the beach and work on his body odor.....um, I mean tan. I will say he had cheap rental boards and in the end that's all that mattered. We grabbed a couple, along with a few boogie boards (for those moments when we were feeling less inclined toward athleticism) and headed down to the beach.
The first thing I discovered about surfing is that it's hard to look good when you are short. People, I am a very small person and surfboards are very tall things. The act of tucking the board under your arm and trotting it down to the water is not a possibility for me. My arms are not long enough to wrap around the width of it. Instead, I have to basically drag the board through the sand behind me like a child carrying a blankie. It does not look cool. At all.
Secondly, I am a very pale person by nature and life in Seattle only compliments my lack of pigment. But I had sunblock and I wasn't afraid to use it. I made sure to coat myself in a thick layer before I hit the water. I then dragged the board down to the sea and selected waves and did my best to ride them. Mostly, I laid stomach down on the board and coasted. Occasionally I'd stand up for a few seconds, fall off, and take a nice whack in the head from the fiberglass. Good times. But I am no quitter. I put in a good eight hours, minus an hour for lunch, "learning" the ropes. Before we knew it the sun was setting.
Sunset at Mal Pais
We gathered up our stuff and headed back to the rental shack to return the boards and it was then that I caught a horrified look being cast in my direction from Pete.
"Um, do you feel okay," he asked.
"A little tired but other than that I feel great. Those waves were totally gnarly dude." Insert hang ten hand gesture here.
"Uh yeah. You know, I think you might be sunburned."
"Oh I always get a little burned. You know that. No biggie."
"Alright if you say so."
We headed back to our hotel room to shower up before a little dinner at the surf camp. I figured now that I was legit I had to hang with the right crowd. Time to bust out my Roxy shorts and mingle. Unfortunately, it was at that moment when I was feeling so good and so accomplished that I happened to glance myself in the mirror. I was a big red tomato. No it was worse that that, I was a big, blistery red tomato whose hair had turned a freakish shade of bleached out blond. The parts of my body that didn't have blisters were covered in cancerous looking freckles. And you know how in the cartoons a character might run off a cliff but he doesn't fall till he looks down? Well that sort of describes the onset of my pain. I had none till I realized I had done real damage then it was excruciating.
Taking a shower was sheer torture but my choices were limited. Pain or stink. I'll take pain every time. I shrieked and yelped and cried my way to presentable. Pulling a comb through my hair was only slightly less uncomfortable then I imagine childbirth to be. My scalp was crimson. Pulling on clothes (screw the cute little shorts, I was all about the sarong and oversized tee) required the help of my spouse. And finally, let me add that no amount of aloe was going to soothe this ache.
I pushed on for us to get dinner but upon arriving at the bar I realized I had burned my bottom something fierce and that sitting was the last thing I wanted to do. I forced my butt down in the seat and managed to suppress my screams long enough to chug a beer and shovel some fish down my throat. Then it was back to that room (you remember the one that was made for romance and cuddling) to try to find an angle to lie in that would not cause me extreme agony. If Pete came within five feet of me I'd shout "ouch, don't touch me." Ah, memories.
8:04 p.m. - 2004-03-15
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