Kidnapping Waves ...

Well tonight is the last night we will write this blog from Eva’s Backpacker’s Hostel. There is not point lying to you, I’m jolly happy about it. I could try to convince you that I’m not and be all lah dee dah positive. But most of you know that for me to tolerate a youth hostel with insufferable and fetid backpackers is a feat of gargantuan proportions. I am looking forward to writing to you from my 9^th floor flat: with panoramic views of Sydney in front of me, a single malt scotch to my left (swishing happily in a heavy crystal ware tumbler – thanks Nick) and a cup of blue M&M’s to my right. Behind me will be the kitchen, and if I am lucky, Ju will be making pancakes for yours truly.

To escape the smell of what I believe to be the rancid, decaying and rotten flesh of unwashed , scurvy ridden backpackers (sometimes I think I am the only one that can detect their odour), my wife and I went for a pleasant stroll to the eye catching Opera House. No photograph can do this place any justice. I for one have never been particularly impressed by it on paper, but close up it is a wonderful sight and a marvel of modern architecture. To fuel our meandering, Ju had a tongue tingling falafel wrap and I had a succulent souflaki. Energy levels restored, we continued our walk under the Harbour Bride. Wonderful place to see rather sinister sized bats. I’ll let Ju tell you about the rest of the evening later on. If you read French then you’ll be fine. If you don’t, well you’re missing a good tale...

Today we both finished our application forms for employment: Ju, as a noble, principled and dedicated teacher and me, as a nosey, interfering and pesky social worker. To celebrate this we went to the beach. This is no easy task. There are a plethora of golden beaches around Sydney to choose from. So how does one make the selection? By the coolest sounding name of course. Today’s winner (and my personal favourite) was Coogee Beach. A great place to get assaulted by massive and thunderous waves.

The trouble, as if often the case in this matter, was getting into the water. As you have come to expect, the water was cold. Ordinarily, I take my time: toes go first, then ankles, shin, knees and etc. This beach wasn’t having that. The moment we approached the shoreline, waves as high as a man would come crashing down, spraying us from head to toe with a volley of ice-cold sea water. Then, as the water retreated back towards the sea, the current took our ankles and pulled our reluctant bodies further into the blue. To my horror, another massive wave caught us by surprise and took us both under. As quickly as she took me under, I ejected my body out of the sea (propelled by fear of the cold more than any athletic ability). Unfortunately, the wave kept Ju under for a while and then regurgitated her forcefully onto the sand, leaving a rather nasty and large bruise to the hip. Poor wee lass.