Shouldn’t have stepped on that urchin…

by Perrin

Look what the bastard urchin did to my foot! Not cool, not cool at all

Let me tell you a scary story.

It begins on a placid pleasure cruise around the Amalfi Coast. The setting was sublime. A little too perfect…

JS0’s resident klutz (me) made it through the day without incurring any cliff-related concussions or bellyflop-induced stomach rashes. As the trip neared its end, the JS0 crew splashed off the boat one last time to see the one, the only, the Blue Grotto of Capri.

That’s when it happened. While other visitors gasped at the beauty of the blue cove, I gasped at the pain in my black and blue ankle. It was a poignant moment for everyone. Of course, being used to bumping things and being weary of my bandaid box, I ignored the sharp pain in my leg and did a few laps around the grotto. The water was so blue it illuminated its occupants like a strobe light: too cool to miss.

Upon finally crawling back aboard the boat, I saw that my foot was gushing blood and my ankle appeared to have grown a beard. It was filled with sea urchin stingers. Even the tough Australian children on board, who had spent the day fearlessly cliff jumping and dodging jellyfish, shouted in disgust. They forked over their two best bandaids without hesitation. (At this point, I was feeling quite heroic for not crying: “I meant to kick the urchin,” I bravely pronounced.)

What Italian Grandmothers Do to Urchin Stings

Urchin stings are so common in Sorrento, Italy that the pharmacy is stocked with a tailored remedy called After Urchin. One slathers one’s spikes with rubber goo and waxes them off with a sheet of gauze. The tactic worked on the big pieces, but the remaining ones remained submerged in my heel, which now also reeked like a gas station and stuck to all surfaces like superglue. Sigh.

1 week later: Still conducting daily spike excavations. I am now in Ancona, Italy, where the local pharmaceutical grandmother has recommended that I soak my foot in white vinegar. I always wanted a recipe from an Italian grandmother, now I’ve got one. I bet it’s delicious! We’ll see how this goes…

Blue Grotto of Capri: the Scene of the Crime

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About sistersbailey

We are Perrin and Sarah Bailey, collectively known as “The Sisters Bailey”. The moniker was born out of a crazy weekend at the 2009 New Orleans Jazz Fest and it was the first time we had ever been referred to as one unit. We grew up in Alexandria, VA together and then separated for college - Perrin to The University of Pennsylvania and Sarah to Northwestern University – and somehow landed together in New York after graduation. It was in the midst of the hustle of Manhattan that we became friends for the first time in years. Somehow we landed jobs in the same industry - Sarah worked in marketing at HBO and Perrin managed creative digital promotions for her media agency’s main client, Disney - just three blocks from one another. One day we decided to leave our jobs, sell our belongings and travel abroad with a backpack and a collective savings of $10K. The stories of our continuing adventures and those of other fearless travelers are here to inspire you.
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