Baking in Barcelona – August, 2008

Wading my way through the crowd, I find a gap large enough to squeeze into, assemble my towel and lay down shoulder-to-shoulder with two bronzed, athletic bodies. Following suite of the other bathers on the beach, I remove my swimmer top and instead of applying sunscreen, I lather myself in a thick coconut oil.

“Coke, coca, coco… coke, coca, coco’, the hawkers drone as they wander through the throng, their baskets full of coconut, cool drinks and their pockets full of cocaine. I flag one down and buy a beer, slugging it down to re-hydrate. Last night was yet another typical evening for me in Barcelona, a feast of succulent tapas and enough sangria to leave me feeling still rather groggy this morning; well, when I say this morning, it’s more like afternoon, but considering I only got to bed a few hours ago, to my body clock it’s the morning. I close my eyes and let the warm summer sun carry me away.

Hours later, I awaken startled. My skin feels as though it’s on fire and on inspecting my arms and chest I notice I am red raw. I throw on a loose dress and hobble back to my hostel. Wincing, I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from swearing. ‘Well’, she remarks calmly examining my bare chest, ‘that was a little silly wasn’t it’! I shoot her a look. ‘It’s a little too soon to be rubbing salt in the wounds’, I retort pulling my dress back down, cringing again as I bump my burnt front.

Luckily for me, two days earlier I had befriended a Canadian girl at the hostel who was in her second year of a nursing degree. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if you had second degree burns’, she says matter-of-factly returning to the bathroom with a first aid kit. Tending to my blistered front she applies a cool ointment and a light cotton dressing as my eyes well with tears.

Although we barely know each other, she has now seen me at my most vulnerable, a place where even most of my close friends have not seen me. Sitting on the bench of the hostel bathroom, I face down into my lap embarrassed as she puts away the cream, scissors and gauze. ‘Hey’, she says catching my attention, ‘chin up’. She leans over and kisses me softly on the cheek, ‘you’ll be alright love, I promise’!