While some people head for the hills, others hit the bars, and some prefer museums, stargazing or visiting the wildebeest, for me the ultimate holiday involves crashing waves and glistening sands. That’s right, I can never go past a trip to the beach. It started with Elvis and clambakes, in all those 1950s musicals with pretty girls in polka-dot bikinis and beefy boys in tight shorts, having an innocent sing along around the fire - until the passionate embraces or brawling started - and continues to this day.
Beach memories: Fresh air & night swims
I am fortunate to have grown up in Sydney, a city with some of the worlds most beautiful beaches, featuring dramatic sandstone cliffs along the coastline, perfect fine golden sand and magnificent curving waves. In my childhood, the beach was a day trip, you packed a picnic lunch, some plastic buckets and spades, books and - of course - towels, sunblock and a beach umbrella. Then you hopped in the car or jumped on the bus across town to Bondi or up to the Northern Beaches.
Clubbies take to the water at Sydney's Bondi Beach
That was probably my earliest experience of public sculpture, creating ephemeral mermaids and castles in the sand, decorating them with shells and building moats to try and direct the flow of water, until the tide was too high and washed them away. Going home sticky with ice-cream and the tang of salt on your skin, washing every last grain of sand from your hair, feeling intoxicated by the fresh air and wild power of the ocean. I loved every moment, even the sunburn was a reminder of happy times, until it peeled away and the memories faded along with your tan.
It wasn’t until I left home and moved to Bronte, that I experienced the pure joy of living at the beach, having a two-minute walk from my door to the ocean every day. The beach used to be simply a place where people lived, not the extreme real estate destination and glamorous promenade it is now, and in the one strip that currently holds – at last count – 13 cafes, there used to be a milk bar, laundromat, grocery store, fish ‘n’ chips shop and just the one, original Bronte Cafe. Here’s to you, Fiona and Maurice, for bringing the most fabulous chicken and mushroom pies, rhubarb tart and magic tricks to the people who tumbled out of the water and across the road, still in their towels, to hang out and catch up with friends, neighbours and local gossip.
One of the benefits of living at the beach was the thrill of night swimming, possible in the balmy summer evenings, although I would always use the ocean pools at night, as it’s much harder to see the current and there are very strong rips at many Sydney beaches. In fact, I’m totally sook about waves in daylight too, having had been dumped a few too many times, and always prefer to swim in the pools carved out in the rocks, which you can find at most of the beaches along the east cost. The famous Icebergs Club at Bondi is a stunning place for a drink (if you remembered to pack something glamorous enough to wear), or else try the Clovelly Bowling Club, which is perched on top of the cliffs a few beaches south, for a more relaxed atmosphere. The Coogee Bay Hotel is famous the live bands and raucous crowd, while Maroubra has a strong surfer culture.
Christmas at the beach is another fabulous bonus to life in the southern hemisphere, imagine swimming with Santa and watching the elves surf into shore. Recover from the over-indulgent family lunch on the sand, before diving into the clear blue ocean, just remember no swimming for half-an-hour after you’ve eaten, or you’ll get a cramp!
Beach memories: Sharks & pipi shells
Watching the sunset over the water is one of the main features of the beaches in Perth, situated on the West Coast of Australia, with miles and miles of gorgeous sandy shores. Fremantle has a more alternative, arty vibe, with plenty of bookshops, music venues and cafes to relax in after your day on the hot sands, although take heed of any warnings, sirens or other signs of danger, and keep a close watch out for sharks.
Family holidays also involved digging for pipi shells on the sands in Golden Bay, in the northern tip of New Zealand’s South Island. You can spot them by the tiny holes in the sand, usually with air bubbles, and then scoop each tiny shell up and straight onto the grill, in our case a sheet of metal over the fire in a 40 gallon drum. The daily limit is 150 per person, which should be more than enough for a BBQ feast.
Kids & boats on a Costa Brava beach
The West Coast of New Zealand is even more magnificent than the beaches back home, a wilderness of remote coastline with luscious forests all the way to the sand. Watch ‘The Piano’ for a glimpse of this stunning scenery, although it’s probably best not to emulate Holly Hunter, and leave the musical instruments out when you’re packing the boat. Zipping along the crest of the waves in a speedboat has to be one of the sexiest ways to travel, so make sure you take a ride
Beach memories: Beach brawls, DJ dancing, fake sand
The trip around the world I made at 18 included a family holiday in Turkey, where my uncle was the captain on a boat. He met us in Greece with a 50 foot yacht, and so we sailed through the Colossus of Rhodes and across the Mediterranean to Marmaris. I remember being terrified by the alarming angle of our tilt in the waves (I am so not a natural sailor), and enchanted by the phosphorescence glowing in the water behind us. There may even have been dolphins playing in our wake, although perhaps I am making that up.
The beach at Marmaris was tiny, a Turkish Riveria holiday resort with coarse black sand, and we had all our meals in town reached by powerboat from our mooring around the next bay. I found the romance of travel encapsulated in the old-style wooden vessels that we took down through the rushes to see the Lycian temples carved high up in the sheer cliff face in Fethiye, and then came back down to earth with a long road trip up to Gallipoli. My grandfather and two uncles talked military strategy over the mint tea we drank at roadside stands, and we stopped in to look at Ephesus and at least two places claiming to be the original Troy. Now that was a beach brawl taken to extremes.
Beach shack on a Haarlem beach. Where's Elvis?
Arriving in Barcelona to visit friends last summer, I was delighted to be swept directly to the Mar Bella beach party, an endless Sunday of mojito’s, dancing and DJ’s with a quick dip in the Mediterranean to make sure it was real. Gorgeous. We also headed south to the famous beach at Sitges with a fabulous parade of flamboyant eurotrash to people watch. I find these Southern European beaches too pebbly and crowded for my taste, but then you know how spoiled I am by all those years in Australia!
The Costa Brava is an exception, with a wonderful walk along the cliffs, and the charming cabins along the beach front belonging to the local women, as the men traditionally inherited the more valuable inland properties used for agriculture, until the 1950’s tourist boom for the coast, which had the women of the family suddenly in the money.
The French who live in the capital have learned to make the most of their summertime by installing a fake beach along the Seine in Paris, where you can rent a deckchair and pretend you’re about to dive into the surf. The Vienna City Beach Bar is also quite the scene, for an Austrian river beach, with a tiny strip of sand to launch yourself into the water, and massage available at the bar afterward, along with a DJ and snacks. I was intrigued by the endless flat waves and sombre mood of the beach at Haarlem, when a friend took me for a day trip there during a stay in Amsterdam. Plenty of trendy bars along the waterfront, and cute little wooden houses set into the sand dunes.
And right now? Well if you must know, I’m currently enjoying the small yet atmospheric beaches around Korcula town in Croatia, which are almost completely deserted in the winter. Perfect.
February 10th, 2009 at 6:20 am
Christmas at the beach is another fabulous bonus to life in the southern hemisphere. Thank you for sharing your experience with us.