Here by The Sea and Sand...
Nothing, for our narrator, goes as planned. But
he ends up having a fine time anyway.
On Saturday I woke up hung over - imagine that -
did my yoga, and began packing for my weekend in Palm Beach. But checked the
email before I left. And that was fortunate, because there I learned that I
wasn't going to Palm Beach. My friend had been up till five AM with one of
those children-with-a-virus sorts of things. Having seen this with Joy &
Mike when I stayed at their place, I know the kind of uber-zombie state that
parents get into when spending the night up with a sick child. So I gracefully
accepted defeat.
Except. This was the
most beautiful day in all of history. Certainly the most beautiful day I'd seen
since arriving in Sydney. The sky, clear and blue and not even a wisp of a
cloud anywhere. Stunning. And warm! Glorious mid-20s. What to do? IM my
friends in Coogee of course, and see what they were up to. Soon enough I had a
standing invitation for a nice hike/walk along the seashore in the Eastern
Suburbs. But first I had to get myself there. I knew there was a bus - the
339, as it turns out - which would pick me up 2 blocks from my house, and drop
me within a block of theirs. So I sought out the 339, got on - and quickly
discovered I was going the wrong way, into Sydney, to the route's terminus at
Miller's Point, the oldest - and by far, the most boring - section of Sydney.
Not even an open cafe at which I could secure the long black which would go at
least some distance toward rescuing me from my hang over. I waited 15 minutes,
while the driver took a walk, then jumped back on and, in 30 minutes or so, and
only modestly chagrined (this being my first fuck-up on the Sydney public
transport system), found myself at my friends' house in
Coogee.
Coogee is on the coast, to the
south and east of Sydney proper, just about 5 km south of Bondi Beach, where I'd
been the previous evening. We suited up, slathered SPF 30 over our entire
bodies - the folks here keep emphasizing, "There is no ozone. There is no
ozone. There is no ozone" - and set out on our walk.
It was incredible, at some points like
Beavertail in Rhode Island (where I wanted my ashes scattered before I
discovered Big Sur) just rocks and sea and foam and huge 3 meter waves crashing
down. Gordon Bay, just a bit north of Coogee, was a nice inlet, not really good
for swimming (too rough, mostly) but fine for fishing, as I understand it. We
walked down one side, into they bay, then up the other. And there, half way up
the cliff, we stumbed upon an honest-to-god house
auction.
I should clarify: yes, there
is a huge real estate boom/bubble here in Sydney. But many houses aren't listed
on the market for a particular price. Instead, to get the best possible price,
they're offered up at a public auction. The auction had started at 2:15, and
here it was 2:30, and they were in the thick of it. The price? Hovering around
AUD $1.29 million. Which, given that it was a house on the cliff, looking over
Gordon Bay, was probably very low. Yet the auctioneer seemed to be having
trouble getting it higher. "Do I hear 1.295 million? Ladies and gentlemen,
anyone?" Finally someone obliged - but, it seemed, grudgingly. We wanted to
stay and see how it all turned out, but the auction seemed positively lethargic
- by Sydney standards, at least - so we wandered on. I do wonder what the final
sale price was. James though it should be at least $1.4 million (about one
million USD), and I'm figuring that would have been cheap, given the location,
location, location of the property. But perhaps not: it was only 2
bedrooms.
And so up the coastline we
walked, making a zig-zag as we traced the fractal seashore, past Clovelly and
its rocks, then another beach (Clovelly, I think) which was a deep inlet with
concrete sides, so you could just walk right into the sea, as if it were a pool.
And a pool right beside it, if you wanted something a little more tame to swim
in. And the Sydneysiders were swimming. Not tons of them, but more than just a
few. The water is supposedly around 16 or 17 C - 64 degrees F, I'd imagine -
which seems a trifle cool to me, but everyone seemed to be having a fabulous
time. Brrr.
Then on up, on a long walk
past a graveyard that fronted the ocean, with old crypt-like tombs, a lot like
you'd see in Paris or New Orleans. Cemetary full, and a great view. Wonder if
they'll ever move those bodies, and put up big ugly condos instead. I'm sure
some developer has tried already. Then down into Bronte, where we smelled a bit
of smoke. Not the noxious smoke of a house fire, but the clean smell of wood.
A rather large palm tree had caught fire - I know not how - and the Bronte fire
department, quick to the scene, pulled up and began to douse it with large
amounts of water. Crisis resolved.
And
so down onto Bronte beach, after ordering up some tasty calamari and chips,
which we ate on the great green that lay before the beach. Many families with
children, kids playing touch rugby, a very sweet, suburban scene. Not, as I
understand it, the madness of Bondi Beach, but something more sedate. Which
explains why Bronte is the most exclusive community in the Eastern Suburbs.
"You can't get into Bronte," James tells me. "The houses never go on the
market. And when they do, they're very
expensive."
We sit on the green for a
long hour, watching 1 year-old Connor play with sticks and get eyed by the gulls
("Rats with wings," James remarks) who are perhaps calculating if they can carry
Connor out to sea for a quick meal, then, thinking the better of it, flock
around a suburban mother who divests herself of her last chips by feeding the
damn birds. Bad idea. But
whatever.
And so, sun falling, we walk
home, a much shorter trip this time, because we take the surface streets,
thereby skipping the fractal dimension which made the walk to Bronte about 3
times longer than the trip back to Coogee. I linger over a beer, then catch the
bus back home. I am exhausted, my body probably still processing last evenings
various toxins (alcoholic, herbal, and culinary) and crawl into bed before 9 pm.
I don't have a burn, but the faintest hints of a tan are breaking out, all over
my body. Yay! Slow and steady is the best way for me to tan, and with that,
I'm satisfied...
Posted: Sun - November 2, 2003 at 07:46 PM