Change In Plans

Greetings from Bondi Beach!  As we hoped, yesterday we got our circadian rhythms back on track, and had a tremendous and exhausting day in Sydney.

India and I were both up early.  In a major change to household patterns and trip protocol, I went out for a run before her.  Our hotel (www.ravesis.com.au) is across the street from the center of Bondi Beach.  I ran left (north) to the end of the beach, and then south along the coastal path to Tamarama and Bronte Beach. Brutally hot, even at 7:30, but a pretty spectacular route.  

Sydneysiders are the best looking and most physically fit people in the world.  I am amazed at how many people are out swimming laps, running, lifting weights, riding bicycles, surfing.  Regardless of the type of physical activity, all of the women here seem to be wearing bikinis.  Most of the men look as though they stepped out of a BowFlex infomercial.  India has advised Tallulah that before she goes off to save the world, she should come to Sydney “to get fit, and date, date, date.”  Tallulah looked at her with confusion, perhaps concerned that Mom meant for her to do this now.

We drove down to Clovelly Beach, about 10 kilometers from Bondi to go snorkeling.  One of our South African emigre friends listed this as the “#1 must do activity” in Sydney.  The “beach” is really a narrow inlet about 200 meters long, with concrete platforms lining both edges, about a meter above the water.  The ocean end of the inlet is mostly blocked by an artificial (cement-block) reef, so the inlet ends up being a huge, very calm tidal pool.  Zola and I swam around looking at fish for a long time: big fish, little fish, fish of all colors.  Later, I swam out over the reef and into the open ocean, just for the childish thrill of watching the kelp and the rocks rush by as the waves washed me back into the inlet.  Fun with mask and snorkel.

From Clovelly, we went to the family beach at Coogee.  Tallulah finally got some sand toys, and alternated between making princess castles and preparing elaborate baked goods.  Zola and I exhausted ourselves bodysurfing in the small beach-break waves.  India sat on shore, reading the same Jay McInerney short stories that I just finished, and coming to the conclusion that men are cads.

In the early evening, I went back to the surf shop where we bought the snorkel gear for a “Stand-up Paddle Board” lesson.  Craig, the surf dude at the shop, said, “Actually, it idn’t really a lesson, mate.  But if yer drifting off to New Zealand, I’ll haul ya back in.”

I had watched a few SUP boarders in Cape Town, and was excited to give it a try.  Amidst all of the belly-lying surfers and boogie boarders, the standing paddlers look like serene kings of the water.  For some reason, I always think of the bad, old Chris Isaac song, “Don’t Pay the Ferryman.”

There was practically no swell at Bondi Beach, so it was a good day to learn.  I found out that it is harder than it looks, and that it is very good exercise.  After an hour, I managed to stay vertical most of the time, paddling around in the flat water 30-40 meters off the beach.  We did not try to surf, and if I broke my concentration to talk to Craig, I immediately fell in.  It was a fun end to the water day.

Today we have a bunch of errands to run, including shipping a lot of stuff back to Tennessee.  We will also get out and see some more of the city.  Sydney is definitely growing on us.

FINALLY!