The "V" Incident

Hi all my Blog-o-philes!
Exciting changes around here! I've got confirmed INTERNATIONAL audiences including Russia, China and even a smattering from South Korea! How they all got to my little blog defies imagination, but WELCOME! I'm glad you're here!

So for all you True Blood fans out there, no, my title "The "V" Incident" is not referring to the drug from the show, but rather to a rather unfortunate sunburn in my backside acquired on our Honeymoon. (And if you haven't read Parts 1 & 2 of "Happy Honeymooners... sort of" please go to:  http://sirensecho.blogspot.com/2013/07/happy-honeymooners-sort-of.html)

So on our Honeymoon, (as described  in my prior Honeymoon post above) I had suffered a malady (or two) of epic proportions, though I was determined not to let it get me down. Following my epic challenges of both upper and lower GI, to put it mildly, we had booked a snorkeling trip - an activity which seemed to me to be both safer than scuba diving and not requiring certification. I had never been snorkeling prior to this, and after hefty doses of Tums, Immodium, and Bonine for the motion sickness, we headed out in a Zodiac raft, the same kind that the Navy Seals use, which was tremendously exciting, terribly fast, and terrifically bouncy.

The harbor where we were going is a protected reef area, so the guide advised that we would not be able to re-apply sunscreen following our initial smearing in the office, so I had my husband smudge sunscreen  all over my back and shoulders, (thoroughly this time, unlike the time he left a handprint on my back and I spent an entire day on the river crisping a bright red background around stark-white fingers....) and I made sure to apply thoroughly to my legs - front, back and sides. We headed out of the marina and picked up speed on the raft. Our guide cruised out to the reef area, hearing a bit of information on Captain Cook, the history of the area, and we were given brief instructions, masks and fins to get ready. My husband hopped in and off he went, an old pro at this, apparently.

I leapt in and immediately started flailing around, doing exactly what the guide told us NOT to do. I swished my fins frantically and scrabbled for the surface, sucking seawater and coughing like a toddler thrown in a pool sans water wings. I flailed and floundered over, gripped the side of the raft desperately, and ripped the mask off my face. "No, no, no!" the guide admonished me, "you just put your face into the water and just paddle around a bit." I cough, choke, spray spittle elegantly on the side of the raft, and exclaim "This mask tried to drown me! It's working like a vacuum and sucking water INTO my face."
He told me to press it against my face to make a better seal, but when I tried that and (while holding to the raft like a lifeline) it did the same thing when I demonstrated by just putting my face barely into the water, a vortex of salty water rushed into my mask. Pulling the mask off with eyebrows quirked at him, he chuckled and gave me a smaller size, which when appropriately cinched down to my face worked like a charm and off I went, happily snorkeling around. In fact, I snorkeled longer than anyone else once I had functioning equipment that wasn't aggressively trying to drown me. And my efforts were rewarded as I saw a giant puffer fish, a ribbon of a Moray eel out swimming (which is apparently a relatively rare sight as they typically stay in hiding in the reef itself), a tremendous pink sea star with impossibly long arms, schools of translucent ghost fish, and more darting in and out of the reef.

However, in the midst of my happy snorkeling, my equally happy bikini bottoms were beginning a process of slow, but inevitable migration. And being in a prone position, face down and ... *ahem* derriere skyward, gave some rather sensitive areas rather more Vitamin D exposure than they'd previously experienced since I was a toddler with a propensity for removing my garments.

In a word, I was burnt. Which I realized only AFTER climbing back into the raft. And without any application of sunscreen in the protected reef area, I would have to  just wait it out until I got back to "civilization." (Not that it could've mitigated the damage already done.) So I pulled my sundress on over my suit, ate my lunch rather uncomfortably sitting on the hot side of the rubber raft, which while squishy, was incredibly hot, and I was already feeling quite heated right about there anyway. But I had no idea what pain was... yet!

We headed back to the marina, and the guide seemed to take particular pleasure crashing cross-ways to the wakes left by the other sea-faring vessels, and the wind had come up as well, leading to far choppier seas than on the way out. My husband, loving the adventure, had wanted to sit in the very front (and hence, BUMPIEST part) of the raft. I held on for dear life - not because I was frightened, far from it in fact, but for the sheer fact of trying to reduce the friction between my backside and the rubber raft - which the thin material of my sundress was doing nothing to protect from increasing abrasion.

When we headed out, my husband had really wanted to see a shark, but I had a deep-burning desire to see a whale. (Also, a dolphin and a sea turtle, but I really really really wanted to see a whale.) Well, I got my wish, and a quick cut of the motor as our guide saw the tall dorsal fins of a pod of whales. It was absolutely indescribable - the whales passed so close to us, that had I reached out fully, I could nearly have stroked their sleek sides! It was beyond description! I was absolutely in awe, but Mother Nature had more in store for us that day! Shortly after picking up speed again after the whales passed by, a pod of spinner dolphins with hundreds of dolphins came flipping and leaping. They churned the water to a white-topped froth, so many that they leapt in graceful arcs - and one young playful male was literally leaping across the front of our raft over and over again. He had a lamprey stuck under his belly, which may have accounted for his excessive behavior, but even our guide was astonished as he circled under the raft and leapt repeatedly.

I was absolutely floored! Two of my three animals I'd wanted to see, though no sea turtles or sharks. But as we pulled into the marina, there sunning on the rocks was a SEA TURTLE! So while my husband didn't get his wish, I DID get mine!

We clambered off the raft, and I gingerly went to our rental car, easing myself into the seat. My husband, ever vigilant, looks over at me with a quizzical look on his face. "What's wrong with you? "

I grimace, and shake my head, hoping to divert his attention. We drive back, talking about everything we got to see on our journey, and me, eager to wash the saltwater out of my hair and put some lotion on.  I shower, come out wrapped in a towel and very carefully begin dressing. My husband looks over at me and begins to GUFFAW.

"What... what... what happened to your ... your ...  you have a big red "V" on your BUTT!!!!?!"

If it were possible to turn even more red, I accomplished this feat.

"I got sunburnt." I mumble.

My husband is in fits at this point, while I carefully cover my blistering (literally, there were blisters!) very abraded backside and get ready for dinner. Typically each night we'd walk the waterfront, looking for a likely place that wasn't TOO exclusive and had no wait. Tonight, I asked if we could just eat in the hotel's restaurant. My husband accommodates my request, pulls himself together, and we (me very tentatively!) walk down for dinner.
The host, a very proper and well-dressed gentleman, seats us and pulls the chair out for me to be seated. The restaurant is quite full with a whole cruise ship full of German-speaking tourists, and we luck out to get a lovely table by the waterfront. I cannot help but exclaim a little in pain as I sit in the chair, and our host worriedly asks if I'm quite alright.

Before I can assure him otherwise, my husband loudly blurts out to the whole restaurant "She sunburned her BUTT!"

I gasp, once again turning brighter than the sunset over the Pacific. Other patrons turn around, gazing in amusement. I can't hide. I can't help but to suddenly become completely absorbed in the menu. 

Eventually everyone goes back to their dinners, conversations resuming (hopefully not only about the state of my backside) and normal dinner hubbub resumes - except my husband's occasional chuckles.

The "V" stayed red for several more days before the blisters popped, the skin sloughed... and I had a lovely browned strip of "V" as a momento of our Honeymoon. I'd love to go snorkeling again sometime, but this time I think I'll wear shorts...