My dear husband snorted in disgust at my pains, and then left the building to go and find some dinner for his lonesome self. I – the cliché that I am as a white pasty English man with, now, a lobster sunburn – will just have to entertain myself for a while. Which leaves me to file this post on the blog.
I can do so by retelling the long trip we had to this place, which is Rethymno in Crete. We arrived here very late local time on Friday after taking an afternoon flight to Heraklion, Crete.
Heraklion, the main city of Crete and the city that holds the island’s international airport, was not our destination, so we didn’t stay long. Instead we loaded out things into a bus, and travelled westward to the town of Rethymno.
On Saturday we left Rethymno again and went back to Heraklion, though, because both Mark and I wanted to see a special place: the palace of Knossos. The most prominent palatial ruin of the Minoan bronze age civilisation.
Before we went, though, we spent hours cooling in the Mediterranean. It is warm here. When we arrived in Heraklion on Friday, it was 25 C. Yesterday and today it’s been 30 something during the day.
Today we did a rematch of the whole soaking with our noses above the water because it’s too hot, and did so for most of the day.
Unfortunately, I was not careful with my Sun cream, and my bathing must had washed some of it off because I developed a rash sunburn on my shoulders, neck, and upper back.
This is what Mark scoffs at. “Amateur. Why didn’t you reapply cream?” I have no answer, because I don’t know. So, now, I’m staying inside until tomorrow, full of pain killers.
I have been toying with the idea to live up to every nuance of the cliché: Lobster-burnt English tourist youth that’s gagging drunk and obnoxious. I’m afraid I’m just not very good at living up to expectations.
That’s why I’ll just lie here in the dark while my Mark is off stuffing himself with the seriusly good food here on the island.
Maybe he’ll meet a tall, handsome Greek Adonis, and he’ll forget all about the sunburnt weakling hiding in the hotel. I honestly have no idea about how Cretans feel about gay people, so we’ve sort of kept a check on touchy feely stuff. So the Greek Adonis thing might not happen.
Or maybe I should stop feeling sorry for myself and put some good music on until he comes back. 🙂