Burned In The Sun

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I love the sun. I love skiing. I love beer. Combine the three, and you’ll soon find yourself sitting in a chair in the French Alps in the ski slope with a beer in your hand, roasting in the sun.

Skiing is great; in fact skiing in “Trois Vallees” is pretty much as good as it gets in Europe. But the feet hurt like hell from the rental boots. And the beer is German white beer in proper large glasses. Besides, being the first day of skiing we can afford to chill for a bit. Before we know it we’ve spent a few hours sitting still in the beautiful weather, but brutally exposed to the sun. “Why didn’t you use sunblock?” the wise might ask. “Because I usually don’t need it”, would be my reply. But getting a suntan on a tropical beach isn’t the same as getting a suntan in the mountains. Something with the reflection of the sunlight in the snow. Or the thin air. Or some other reason.

Night comes, and the skis and boots are swapped for regular boots as we hit a few bars. Feels a bit strange, but we contribute that to the long bus ride and hitting the slopes right straight upon arrival. The skin feels strange. Tight. Red. Like a normal sunburn. “Oops, maybe we stayed a bit too long in the sun”. The bed offers no beauty sleep. I wake up constantly, wiping the sweat off my face. Fine, I’ll just sweat it out. But the morning view in the mirror reveals a far from pretty sight. At first I think it’s due to the lack of sleep that I can’t open my eyes fully. Turns out it’s not. The face is swollen unrecognizing proportions, including the eyes. What appeared to be sweat was not. It was pus. Uncontrollable amounts of it, pouring out from selected spots in the face. I know, it’s gross.

With my reluctance to go to the doctor, I put my shades on and find the pharmacy of the town. I take the shades off to show the pharmacy guy that I need some magic lotion that can fix this in a matter of minutes. “You need to go to the doctor” he says without a moment of hesitation. Damn it, I hate it when the French are right. Anyway, I find a doctor, who has seen this before and knows exactly what to order. Sends me back to the pharmacy to get various lotions and a tetanus shot. I get the lotion. I don’t get the shot. I hate shots. I’m stubborn. I’m confident the lotions and my healing power will take care of it. It doesn’t. The next day I get the shot.

The damage is already done though. I’m not allowed to expose my face to the sun for a week. Great, just what you need when skiing. I have to cover my face with a couple of layers of lotion. So now I’m white. But not completely. The wounds cut through even the thickest layers of protection. I look like a monster, or possibly something you would dress up like on Halloween. It’s not enjoyable. It’s very painful. And it rules out a lot of the planned after-ski experience. But it’s a ski trip to remember. And it’s a lesson learned.

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