An Ode to Sunscreen
June 10, 2013
Honestly, I don’t know how my pasty people functioned in the past without sunscreen. Granted, I’m sure my German and Polish ancestors weren’t running around the Mediterranean, but I’m sure the sun peaked out from the clouds often enough in northern Europe long enough for them to get the occasional sunburn. My routine: wake up, shower, apply sunscreen, walk around hot Mediterranean climate, sweat, apply more sunscreen, sweat, run after packed Mediterranean busses, sweat and maybe get my butt pinched on the bus while smelling someone’s stinky armpit, pour myself off the bus, return to my hostel/room, scrub off the day’s sunscreen in the shower, then do it all over again the next day. And somehow I still manage to get a little rosy each day. Damn you, pasty skinned ancestors! I should invest in Neutrogena stock.
Today in Athens was no different, minus the fact that I tried to walk a fine (and dangerous) line of drinking enough water to be hydrated but not having to pee constantly and consequently gave myself an ever so slight case of heat stroke. After feeling nauseous for a bit, sipping some water, and resting my eyes for a bit all was well, but it means that I’ve missed out on a dinner of gyros and an evening of hanging out in Athens while I sit in my hostel room and rehydrate. Oh well, lesson learned early and the consequence wasn’t too terrible. But back to the wonders of sunscreen. I really loathe putting the stuff on, even if it’s supposed to be the fancy kind that is more like lotion than anything. Slathering it on after you’ve gotten all clean in the shower just seems like back tracking. Yuck. But it keeps me from looking like a crustacean and being all wrinkly and cancer-y later in life. Yet I often ask myself why no scientist has developed some kind of pill you can take to protect your skin from the sun. We have a million treatments for E.D. but why is there no pill that you can take X hours before you step out into the blazing sun and not get scorched? If any of my readers have a scientist friend please pass along my request. I’d be their biggest fan! And all of my future descendents would likely be indebted to their sunscreen pill, as well, since I’m sure my children’s children’s children will also be doomed with my fifteen-minute-burn skin. Yep, I picked the perfect career for a person with the exact opposite coloring – out in the sun excavating or traveling around the Mediterranean. Too bad I didn’t really like something that involved spending most of my time in the library or in a cloudy, cold climate. Damn my goals!
Anyway, back to sunscreen and its wonders. Since my skin is doomed and basically see-through, I am forced to buy SPF 70-100. People always think I’m insane doing this, but I can tell the difference between 45 and 70. I’m telling you, it exists! In Europe you’re lucky to find SPF 30, and SPF 50 is an especially rare and joyous occasion. To all of my pasty readers, if you ever travel to the Mediterranean, I urge you to load up on your crazy high SPFs. I’m not kidding when I say that it is most of the weight in my giant backpack (which is almost as big as me, but it’s bright pink so that if I tumble off a mountain pass in Germany in August they will be able to spot me in the gorge below quite easily). Anyway, ‘tis getting late and my fellow archaeologists and I need to rest up for another day of running around Athens and in my case, I need to wake up extra early to slather nasty creamy sunscreen all over myself so I don’t burn to a crisp and therefore get funny looks from the Greeks. “Who is that crazy red skinned girl?” Kallinichta (good night) for now!
