You can tell immediately: it is going to be hot. It’s got to be the beach, and that must mean Bondi! We’re getting the hang of the transport system, head off down George Street, take a right at Museum and catch the 333.
It’s further than I thought, but we travel the length of Oxford Street, through Paddington, where Gemma lived all those years ago during her gap year travels. It’s good to see and strangely reassuring that it’s a lot nicer than my imagination – isn’t it always!
On the bus, I hear a familiar accent. Peter and Sue are from the Lakes. Having retired 2 or 3 years ago, they’ve taken a ‘Round the World’ ticket for 3 months with the ultimate aim of catching their traveling son in New Zealand.
They tell of solo travel in Vietnam, Thailand etc., spending a night or two in each location. Now in Sydney, they have a week in a YHA. It’s the longest they have stayed anywhere and, they admit, this time in one place has been brilliant. Constantly moving, packing and re-packing is exhausting. It’s good to hear their experiences. Peter and Sue thread through our time at Bondi, on the beach, on the bus back.
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Bondi beach is shorter and deeper than I expected. The sand is wonderful! Soft, warm and very fine. It's divided into patrolled sections, one for surfing, the other for swimmers. The waves are sudden, coming from no-where and rearing up over your head. I loved watching John plunge through them, amid crowds of others. Like a new person! My sea going is more modest, waist deep, but the water is fresh, clean, just right for the heat of the day.