Take the damp with the dry!

 

 

 

As I never tire of telling people, I once sunbathed in the rain. 

     It was, to be fair, light rain, and as I was in Gran Canaria, even in the rain it was pleasant.  And my determination was rewarded with the sun coming out and drying me off.

     Admittedly that was in the Before Times when I was living in Cardiff and I was going to Gran Canaria for my Christmas holidays so that I could return to Cardiff sporting an out of season tan.  I also rather enjoyed going to my local branch of Boots to buy suntan lotion in late December just to see the expression on the sales assistant’s face!

     Today I live in the Now Times when sunshine is an expected element in everyday life here in Castelldefels, rather than an exceptional gift.  That being the case, one can get a little blasé about the visible presence of our nearest star and assume that there is always tomorrow to disport oneself to achieve the requisite degree of browning.

     And so, the summer disappears and one suddenly realizes that September has arrived and one is still a rather pasty white.

     This explains why today, for example, we have taken the remains of an indifferent day and salvaged the sunshine of a blustery afternoon.

     Our (that word should be in inverted commas) section of beach was delightfully empty as other folk are not so hardy in braving mild gale force sand-filled flaying winds as we are.

     At least the sand quotient of our breezes was limited because we were on the wave washed section of the beach, where the occasional liquidity of the surge kept the sand damp and disinclined to fly.

     In the event, it was easy to enjoy the experience, and I am a firm believer that a spirited wind is one of the most efficient aids to browning, short of bronzer, that there is, and the discomfort appeals to my Moderated Puritan Outlook that postulates that no pain no gain is one of the great truisms of our (and any) time.

     An added advantage of the rough movement of air is that it discourages the easy attack of mosquitos, and we managed to make it back home with only minimal damage, with gratifyingly few puncture marks.

     Tomorrow is Catalonia’s National Day, when most of the world (or at least Catalonia) is on holiday and the whole of Barcelona seems to decamp to our part of the world and fling themselves into the sea.  And clutter up ‘our’ beach.

     Another problem with the day is that it is officially ¡Fiesta! and therefore the menu del dia is also at ¡Fiesta! prices, and a Friday is out eating-out day and we object to paying so much more for a meal that is fundamentally the same as on a normal day. 

     But we probably will go out, and swallow through teeth as gritted as the air!

    

 

Attack!

 

 

 

Now that September is well underway there is a balancing act to be undertaken.  I live in a seaside town, and chunk of the income of the place is dependent on tourists, especially those who come from Barcelona and the surrounding towns to enjoy a day on the beach.  We have a long, if not over wide beach and it can take thousands of tourists comfortably.  But we who live here have expectations.  We feel cheated if we are not able to walk to the beach and claim for ourselves a spot with a clear uninterrupted view next to the sea.

      As September is the month in which most people go back to work after the summer holidays, we venture forth to the beach in the hope of finding it relatively empty.  I use the word ‘relatively’ because, even in the most inclement weather, our beach is never totally deserted.

     Anyway, the weather in early September has been good (apart from yesterday when we had a Special Storm warning, for a 'special storm' that did not occur) and beach-worthy.  So, clutching our chairs we set off for the beach and had a couple of hours or more in very pleasant sunshine, occasionally venturing into the warmish waters of the Med.  So far so good.

     The real problems started when we arrived back home.  We stacked the chairs, hung out the towels and brushed the sand off backpacks, and went indoors to have the welcome shower to get rid of the stubborn stand that loves sun cream!

     And we realised that we had been bitten to buggery and back again by rabid mosquitos.  It was a concentrated attack the like of which I have not known before!   

     The only episode I can compare it to was when we visited the Everglades in Florida and were pleasantly surprised by the lack of antagonistic insect life that we were warned to expect.  Then there was a brief rain shower after which swarms of kamikaze insect life threw itself at us.  We made a run for the car, while picking up broken branches of vegetation which we used to belabour each other in a vain attempt to dislodge the bloodsuckers – which were large enough to be seen clearly on our unprotected skin.

     The mosquitos in Castelldefels seem to resort to greater use of local anaesthetic when they plunge their probiscis into tender skin, so that the damage only becomes apparent after the damage has been done and the pain starts spreading.

     It is our firm belief that mosquitos know that September is the beginning of the end for them as winter approaches and they perish, so there is a fanatical putsch to get as much iron via our blood to fulfil the quota for egg laying before the harsh months of the winter begin.

     When we inspected the damage, we saw that the multiple stings had raised welts that merged into one another so that there was an embossed isthmus of pain along the thigh.  Individual hit-sites on head, face, neck and stomach added to the all-over misery of discomfort.

     A cold shower gave momentary relief, but reality hit as soon as the water stopped.

    We know that this is the ‘last fling’ of doomed females trying to propagate before the ultimate insect zapper of winter puts an end to the pain – but that doesn’t ease the pain of their frantic attempts to drain.

     When we went to the beach the next day, we planned the way we were going to get through the ‘garden’ in our house, open the door and gain the relative tranquillity of the inside. 

      It was more like a military operation as we surged through the invisible pests and slammed the door shut on the swarm.  And pain free, we felt we deserved a congratulatory cup of tea to celebrate unpunctured skin.

     And since then the weather has not been conducive to beach lounging.   

        Such is life!