The Beaches of Sydney

Beaches are so synonymous with Australian culture that I could not imagine that the cliche would live up to the hype. But there's cities and there's beaches and there's cities with beaches. And then there's Sydney.  Our foray to the beach here was forestalled by weather, or rather the promise of bad weather that never quite materialised. This is how we got trapped in the wonders of Myer's department store for several (not exaggerating) hours. With few windows and months of being subjected to Chinese women's clothing sizes, we gasped at the wonder of bikinis, dresses, underwear in sizes S, M and L. But I digress.

With only three days in Sydney and one spent shopping, the second spent wine tasting, our zeal for the beach was heightened and met on our third and final day in the city. From Sydney Harbour we took a cheap 30-minute ferry past the Opera House (yes, still excited about this) and across the bay to Manly Beach, the home of boho shopping, white sands and tan, tall beautiful things walking the beach in designer wear.

There was even a shark, not that anyone was paying the sign much mind:

After sunning ourselves for a couple of hours and with lots of reluctance, we eventually peeled ourselves away back through the gauntlet of surf shops and healthy lunches to head to the city's most iconic surf spot, Bondi Beach.

At first glance, we were pretty chuffed but not wowed. I mean, we had to take the bus and not a ferry and the afternoon WAS dwindling.

But then I met my future sausage dog's doppelganger, also named Frankie. He strutted on the beach like a boss heeding no mind to the surfers' paraphernalia that dotted the landscape. And things began to look up: 

And because cliched stereotypes are rooted somewhere in truth, men, women and children clutching surfboards strolled casually by: 

They caught me, and smiled, as I took a picture of their bliss. I get the impression tourists take a lot of pictures of this pastoralia:

And because we wanted too much of a good thing, the three of us attempted the 6km cliff walk from Bondi to Coogee Beach fighting the setting sun, clad in flimsy flip flops. First stop, the Bondi Icebergs swimming club:

It's difficult to tell from this image but waves repeatedly crashed against the outer wall, finding their way into the pool and onto hardy lap swimmers. Considering it was summer and the temperatures were hot, the swimming seemed recreational. But a group of hard Icebergs endure throughout the winter months, admittedly not as cold as a Michigan December, to swim laps, train and generally be healthy. It was an impressive sight: 

And from there, the paved trail meandered up, up, down and around, past rock pools and high cliffs, past dogs paddling alongside their owners and past a variety of surf clubs, beach clubs, lifeguarding schools, rugby matches.

With names like Tamarama, Bronte, Clovelly and Coogee, the beaches offered variety. 

Even at the advanced hours of the day, life existed along the path.

Unfortunately, by the end of the walk our flip flips were worked to the limits and we were unable to join in the festivities and various celebrations. 

 

But the setting sun was splendid and we limped our way towards one of the finer burrito establishments of the Coogee Beach area and marvelled at yet another stunning day in the greater Sydney area.