Beach-bumming on Bondi
ONE of the excitements, and sadnesses, of living in Pietermaritzburg is that many
of our children have emigrated to all corners of the world. I see patients every
week, who are off to the U.S., Canada, England, Australia and New Zealand to visit
their children. I have just been on one of these excursions myself to visit a son
who lives at the exotic Bondi Beach in Australia.
Bondi somehow has a touch of the Mediterranean about it and everyone hangs out there
in a topless sort of way. It has a sixties drifters feel to it. The beach itself
has fine white sand, peppered with a generous supply of breasts pointing towards
the sky.
'If you were an extraterrestrial and first landed at Bondi you might wonder what
sort of things they were trying to grow on earth.
To get to the sea I had to tread carefully between these antennae, while nonchalantly
concentrating on some of the other fine points of life in the far distance.
All is not over once you have reached the sea. I was standing waist-deep in the
waves when out of the crest of a wave came that most terrifying of creatures, the
Great White Australian Mammary Glands. Being of British stock, I assumed that you
had, like meeting a tiger in the jungle, to stand your ground and look them straight
in the eyes. Showing fear or making a run for it might lead, especially if they
were coming down from on top of a dumper, to instant mummification. I somehow felt
I needed a matador's cape to flourish as they swept magnificently by on their way
to impalement on the sand.
To recover from the terrors of the deep I was taken, for resuscitation, to the first
floor of Ravesi's restaurant, overlooking the beachfront. Now I don't know if you
know this but Australians have a thing they do called drinking. You might have heard
of it.
The password in New South Wales is "no worries, mate, I'll have a VB"
which stands for Victoria Bitter. Home in Australia is where the beer fridge is
and apparently there is one in every three Australian homes.
Apart from VBs, they make a cocktail, which has amazing powers of transference,
called a Blue Lagoon. It is made up of gin, curacao and lemonade, and has a translucent,
aquamarine colour to it.
My psychiatrist tells me you only need three to reach another plane of consciousness.
By common consent, if you wake up the next morning with a tattoo, you have had too
many.
Blue Lagoons also appear to induce what in medicine is known as a disinhibition
syndrome. It allows one to discuss some of the great philosophical debates of the
century.
We ended up in an absorbing discussion on the difference definitions of a nerd,
a geek, a wally and what the Australians call a yuppie loser.
Opinions are accompanied by extravagant gestures and participants assume that everything
said is masterfully eloquent. It is better if the whole table has Blue Lagoons as
there is therefore no need for further sensible conversation by anyone. Abstainers
might miss out on the exquisite nuances and subtleties of the dialogue.
Ravesi's restaurant is well known, as are many Sydney eating places, for its seafood
and, following the BEs, we had Blue-Eyed Cod with broccoli dressed with Pesto alla
Genovese and a variety of nut oils and basil. This was eased down with another Great
Australian White, Coonawarra Sauvignon Blanc.
Looking out over the sun-drenched beach I thought that nothing could possibly disturb
this idyllic view yet there is an interesting new phenomenon called Wave Rage, obviously
coined after the phenomenon of road rage.
The condition arises when there are too many surfers hanging out on the back line
and they are all competing to get on a good wave.
Assaults have been reported between surfers, who poach on what is perceived to be
the other surfer's territory.
How one indulges in a bout of fisticuffs while standing on a surfboard is somewhat
hard to imagine.
I should think with the first swing of the fist, one would land overboard. Presumably
they wait until they have reached the shore and then swat each other with their
surfboards.
I never saw anything but sunshine and harmony. The main dangers, it appears, for
tourists in Australia are the Great Australian Whites and the Blue Lagoons.