SPF 100: Go back inside please

This past week I went to the beach with my parents. I love the beach and most beach activities.  My parents have been taking my family on beach trips for a number of years now, and it’s always a little puzzling to me why that is. My parents are both sunscreen crusaders. They bring SPF 100 (which I theorize when uncapped is either a poncho-in-a-bottle  or a note that says to go back inside) for themselves and enough 45 for my sisters and I to re-apply ever hour-which they make sure we do. I even realized this trip that I don’t ever have to wonder when it’s time to reapply since my mom is constantly handing me sunscreen and moving an umbrella over me while I’m laying on a blanket. Not that I want skin cancer or wrinkles, but my parents court the kind of sunscreen and sun cover up that make you mistake them for ghosts. Additionally they both quote statistics on how little sun it takes for damage to occur. But for some reason we still go and they still come down to the beach where they set up their full battle station of sun protection.

On this particular trip my sister and I returned from a dip in the ocean to our fort where Mom told us about 3 “hot young men” who had borrowed her sunscreen while we were out swimming. She was puzzled though. She didn’t understand “how he knew I was the only person on the beach who wouldn’t turn him down sunscreen?”

To which I replied: “Really? Really Mom? It couldn’t be perhaps because you are sitting under 3 umbrellas wearing special SPF proof clothing from head to toe, a hat, sunglasses and your skin is so white that you’re getting the people on the next blanket tan when the light rays bounce off of you? Right…I’m not sure why the boys picked you…”

“All Aboard!”

I like to think I’m a fan of public transportation. It cuts down on traffic and it’s better for the environment. And yet every time I’m waiting for a train, bus or subway I’m always wishing I had a gas guzzling car, or even better a chauffeur. I’ve had late trains while French conductors took their coffee breaks. I’ve had smelly metros where arm pits were in my face in Rome. I’ve had metros so crowded in China I was too scared to get back on them. And I’ve had confusing bus rides in Germany where I’ve had to wait until the end of the day long trip to find out if I was on the correct bus. But this past weekend was the first time I saw a taxi masquerading as a train-and this was in Connecticut!

When looking on the train schedule online it had sporadic train times interspersed with certain train times stating “bus”. Why a bus would be running between train stops is beyond me. Not particularly convenient since they cannot take the direct route that a train would use. But the train I picked said it was actually going to be a train-or maybe a bus. But when we get to the station there was a sign that said  “the 4:00 train will be represented by a taxi”. ???? Clearly they didn’t expect it to be a crowded ride, but there were actually 3 of us. The driver did say that if there were more than four he would call another taxi. But I guess that would pretty much guarantee not getting there on time. And then I’m not sure how you would pick who went first. Rock paper scissors? I wasn’t in a particular hurry, though one of the women with me was trying to catch a connecting train. She immediately started quibbling with the taxi driver that he was two minutes late. He argued just one, she argued two. I’m guessing she doesn’t ride too many trains since 1 or 2 minutes late is pretty standard. Unfortunately we did hit traffic which there really isn’t any way around in a taxi…

He didn’t charge us for the ride, whether that was planned because the trip was a surprise taxi or because he thought connecting-train-lady would flip out again-I don’t know. But he moved too fast for me to even tip him.

My ride home was less eventful though equally free. The conductor asked if I needed to buy a ticket on the train, and when I said yes he said he would be back and never came back before my stop. So in conclusion, when it comes to public transportation expect the unexpected. Trains can be quite cheap if you don’t mind sometimes taking a taxi and waiting in traffic instead.

If the ocean were having a drought it probably would be national news

While at the beach this summer I was reminded of an interesting story about a couple I once encountered. I was walking along the beach in Bar Harbor, Maine with my family. I’d gotten a little ahead of them for a while and was walking by myself when a couple stopped me. I don’t remember how old they looked, but definitely old enough that their following question surprised me. They pointed to the rocky beach below us and asked me in a concerned voice “Do you know if they’re having a drought here?” Um, what? I’m sure my face relayed how stunned I was as I looked at the couple, then looked back at the beach where the low tide was gently lapping the stones. They were clearly a couple, yet somehow two separate people had managed to reach adulthood without hearing about the tides? They both spoke English without an accent so it seemed unlikely it was a language related misunderstanding. I had no idea where to begin in explaining tides. Do I start with the moon? Throw an apple at their heads and start with a lesson on gravity?

Hoping I’d heard them wrong I said “Well, it’s low tide…so it means the water is off the beach. Um, have you heard of tides?”

The couple responded with “But the water was far back off the beach like this when we walked by this morning!” 

“Yes” I responded, “Low tide happens twice a day…” 

I hoped this was their first day on the beach if they kept catching low tide. Anyone who has ever been to a beach town knows that the high and low tides are posted everywhere; on the beach, at hotels, even some restaurants have them listed. But somehow these two had made it out of their hotel and down a beach path twice in one day without encountering a sign.

I left them to their musings since I wasn’t sure what other questions I was going to have to try and answer… “Did someone dump salt on the beach? The water tastes salty!”

Nature has no Force Like a New England Mother with Food

In a country where we constantly hear people stressing about dieting I have found a place where this concept is as foreign as low salt butter. The mothers of New England are holding strong. Portion control? Eat until the food is gone and then eat some more. The food is some of the most delicious food I’ve ever eaten. Real butter, fresh picked fruits and vegetables and old recipes. Resistance to eating this food is futile. In one weekend I have failed to not over eat at any meal. Breakfast included. I had at least 6 different kinds of homemade bread: zucchini, banana, banana nut, date, pumpkin, blueberry. Additionally I had 2 different varieties of blueberry desserts and multiple cookie creations. Zucchini and banana are old favorites of mine so I knew I wanted a piece, but then pumpkin and date were new and I wanted to try them too. And of course a chicken pot pie that makes other chicken pot pies hang their beaks in shame.

There are many factors I have identified that contribute to the success of this force of nature:

1. Huge portions.

2. Seconds and thirds.

3. The demand for no leftovers.

4. Magically getting food to appear on your plate when your head is turned.

5. Mysteriously causing more food to appear on the table.