Ow, stupid me

I went to the beach this weekend, but it wasn't the paradise get-away I expected. First, I left early Saturday morning because the last Friday night bus didn't leave late enough for me to take it after class. I drug myself out bed, threw some things together, and managed to not fall asleep on the metro. When I got to El Quisco, a little beach town, the bus man (buses here have an assistant) came through and said, "Next stop, the center". Several people, including me, stood up, got their stuff, and started heading for the front. But the bus just kept trucking, so we sat back down to avoid falling over. Finally, someone asked, "Hey, what about the center. Aren't you going to stop there?" The guy responded matter-of-factly that they "had waited" and no one had gotten off. Ummmm ... while the bus was rolling and the door was closed?? Jerks.

So, everyone got off at the terminal and I refused to let the bus man take my hand to help me down. Not like I need that anyhow, stupid chauvinists. I then walked the mile or so back to town, back-tracking. Grr. I was tired and wanted a shower, but the sky was bright blue and I saw a guy chucking 3-foot fish into the bed of his pickup truck. Cool!

I made it to the cabañas where we were staying, my friends having gotten there the day before. Although I'd told my friend whose boyfriend was showing up later that they would probably end up with the "matrimonial" (double) bed, two friends who were having a (now-not-so-) secret affair had claimed that room. The whole thing was kind of awkward because they were clearly together but not together, so no one talked about it. That also meant that when the boyfriend showed up, I got to sleep on the floor in the living room (they shared the bottom bunk and let me have a mattress!). I didn't really mind except that I felt kind of ... extra.

In fact, I felt really disconnected yesterday. I realized how much I long to be special to someone, not even necessarily in a romantic way. I'm leaving Chile soon and I'm not sure that it will really miss me. I'm also not sure that I'll really miss it. That made me feel shitty. I realized, too, that I subconsciously want to find a home. I want to love living somewhere and never want to leave. I want to see the world as a traveler with a home base, not as a restless wanderer. So, proof, at least, that being in a funk can make your subconsious talk.

The biggest bummer of the weekend was that I got burned. I meticulously slathered on 50 SPF sunscreen, being sure to get all the parts that I usually forget ... like my armpits. Don't laugh. Ever had an armpit burn?? Okay. Except that somehow, my eyelids got burned (it's as painful as it sounds) and my back got fried. My friend did my back and she put on a half-bottle of sunscreen, I swear. Neither of us can figure out what happened. She felt guilty and I felt like my back was on fire. Still do.

I hate being burnt, just like I hate having overeaten. I'm uncomfortable (in this case, miserable) and mad at myself for being stupid, and all I can do is wait it out. I also worry about dying because skin cancer is no joke. Melanoma runs in my family, I'm super moley, and three of the moles I've had removed were dysplastic. Getting burned is about the stupidest thing I can do. So, here I am, burnt, braless (Don't laugh. Ever worn a bra with a burnt back?? Okay.), and feeling like a total moron. Even though I put on 50 SPF like it was my job ... Even though beating myself up is less effective than putting on more aloe lotion ... Even though the beach was beautiful and I got dunked by huge (and FREEZING) Pacific-ocean waves ... Ow, stupid me.