Thursday, 12 August 2010

The devious sunshine seems out to taunt

Being a true Brit it’s fair to say I don’t see much sun, so when it does make a timely appearance back home I’m on seconds away from stepping foot outside to bask in its glory. Living 5 minutes away from a beach at university definitely does have its perks sometimes...

On holiday, we’re presented with sun pretty much from the moment we wake up to the moment we step foot back in our hotel rooms before evening meals – so much so, it’s actually harder to hide from the sun rather than seek it.

We’ve made friends with this family from Kent (who we still shamefully don’t know the names of) and, just like two of the three of us from our end, they’ve already been sunburnt – me thankfully being the odd one out in this case, though I can feel my skin tightening around my eyes and shoulders and it’s probably only a matter of time until I’m hit too.

In effort to escape the sun – a phrase which I won’t say much once back in Blighty – we headed over to the bar/diner/shack-thing to feast on a colourful array of fruits, pastries and juices. Whilst also helping ourselves to free cava once again, we headed over to seats in the shade, thankful for a bit of breathing space from that huge yellow fireball up in the clouds.

After a disappointing turn of events, I actually went off the hotel for a brief stint. We sat down with our meals; I say we, but I was a few seconds behind after treading on what I thought was a stone and stopping briefly to check my foot – I saw nothing, so followed closely behind the troop in front. Only thing was, it turned out not to be a rock but a piece of broken glass instead. Apparently earlier in the day a bird had flown through the bar and knocked a glass over – which the barmaid knew of, laughed about, yet the thought of finding a dustpan and brush to clear the debris was beyond her. As I pulled the glass out of my foot, blood swiftly emerged (kind of like the scene in Forgetting Sarah Marshall, when Brand gets coral in his leg, only about 100x less worse). After complaining, the woman did nothing but agree there was glass on the floor – just in case I fancied a return trip, I was told to look out for shards of glass. Thanks a bunch barmaid.

Soon after, we saw the Kent folk head over and after a brief chat they said there were cockroaches in their hotel room last night. Not exactly dinner talk, nor in fact something did I wish to know at all whilst staying in the same complex. Though I’ve yet to see any myself, they apparently killed three last night – so all bodes well for the future then...

I’ve also noticed another side-effect of the sun (or to be more accurate, heat). It doesn’t half make you lethargic. I felt fairly awake in the morning, but by the end of our little sunbathing session I felt like I had just run a marathon. Fair enough, I’d managed another 50 lengths in the pool (up to 110 in two days now), but this wasn’t accountable for how tired I felt. Even watching the atrociously boring England friendly match today, I found myself battling to keep my eyes open at just 8pm.

Apparently the hotter it is the more tired you get, since you have less energy. The only way I can think this is logical is through sweating. Today, I sweated a lot. Sunbathing took a lot out of me, whilst even just stopping for lunch and on the way to dinner it only took minutes for a trickle of sweat to come rolling down my brow before a whole army load followed shortly after. Then again, after downing four bottles of water today to combat this, it doesn’t seem justifiable to blame my fatigued body on sweat.

Hopefully after a good night’s sleep tonight I’ll perk up again – I guess I’ll only know in the morning.
Oh, and gymming on a holiday is extremely hard. Though the view from the fitness centre is of a beach just yards away and a coastline within close distance beyond this, your thoughts are far from reps and sets, whilst wearing board shorts and a vest only further serves to entice me into a quick dip. I’m somehow still managing to go there though (after all, it’s free), and with an hour and a bit clocked up with gym work and another 110 laps in the pool - which works out probably about an hour of swimming – my body’s not feeling too bad at all. A stone’s throw short of ditching the beer (which on holiday just shouldn’t happen, period) I’m doing pretty much all I can to aid my body. Though I actually do miss my regular post-workout protein shakes back home, I’m finding a diet of protein, fruit and veg very enticing indeed.

On a side note, I found a windsurfing club and booked a beginner’s lesson for Friday afternoon (two days from now). For 40 euros, I wasn’t expecting much besides a few tutorials and maybe a splash in the water, but it turns out we’ll do 20 minutes of familiarising yourself with your board before hitting the waves for an almighty 70 minutes. The aim by the end of the lesson: “Get on the board and surf in a straight line” – seemingly easy to do at first, but judging by the guy’s smirk on his face I have a feeling this could be a touch harder than first anticipated. Nonetheless, bring on Friday!

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