travel Archives - Explore with Fran

It takes a lot to break me out of my morning coffee routine but the promise of a walk by the sea and some culture does the trick. Making our way to the eastern suburbs from the city, the number of people sharing our journey suggested many had the same idea. I suspected we weren’t in for a quiet stroll.

Sculptures by the Sea

Whether it is the walk you have come for, or the culture, today will tick both boxes. Sculptures by Sea ( https://sculpturebythesea.com/ ) is Australia’s largest annual outdoor exhibition. Located at Bondi Beach, in Sydney’s Eastern Suburbs, since 1997 the festival features art from both Australian and overseas artists. This long run may be coming to an end with an ongoing wrangle between the organisers and the local council threatening to make this the last year the event is held in Bondi.

Whichever way the dispute is settled, the festival is sure to keep it’s late spring slot in the calendar. Straddling the months of October and November, the festival avoids the heat of the mid summer months. The event is based predominantly in Bondi and along the start of the coastal walk, but we opted to do the journey in reverse. Starting at Coogee proved to be a masterstroke with us being able to avoid the worst of the crowds for most of the 6kms stretch of coastal pathway. This made for a more peaceful stroll and allowed us to take full advantage of the scenery as the ocean beat a constant refrain against the cliff tops.

Waverley cemetery overlooks the ocean on the Sculptures by the sea walk — Waverley cemetery overlooking the ocean

Refuelling

As the walk meanders into the various bays along the coast you come down from the cliffs, giving you the opportunity to refuel. There are numerous food and drink options along the way, from beachside shacks dispensing cold drinks and ice lollies, to cafes offering more substantial fayre. Bronte Beach is a perennial favourite and is home to the original outlet of Three Blue Ducks (www.threeblueducks.com). This institution has now spread to Byron Bay.

Boats on the beach along the Bondi to Coogee coastal walk

Leaving Bronte, heading north, the walk takes you back up along the cliff tops and around to Tamarama Beach. A lot smaller than Bronte, and still some 2kms from Bondi, this is where the sculptures begin. Seemingly scattered on both the grassed area and on the beach, this is your first opportunity to see the artwork up close. You will also notice a visible increase in selfie sticks. The number of people taking photos increases exponentially. As does the amount of times you will be asked, or should this be ordered, to move so someone can get an even better photo!

Scupltures by the Sea, Bondi to Coogee coastal walk

Tamarama beach along the coastal walk hosting the sculptures by the sea — Tamarama beach

Swimming Upstream

Extricating yourself from someone’s family album, keep walking because just around the corner is one of the main draws of the walk. Leaving Tamarama, like a salmon swimming upstream, keep following the path and soon the crowds become hordes. Your jaunty pace will slow to a crawl. The perfect photo becomes harder to capture. Reaching the top of the headland, and rounding the corner, you will see the waters of Bondi shimmering in the distance. Surfers dot the sea like currants in a Garibaldi biscuit. The world famous beach stretches out ahead of you and look closely and you might get a glimpse of the distinctive blue uniforms adorned by the professional life savers. Even closer up you may even recognise some of them from the TV show “Bondi Rescue”.

Reward Time

I won’t be going for a dip in the sea today but I am happy to be rescued from the hordes. Once again the combination of the exercise, the scenery and taking in some culture leaves me feeling refreshed, but thirsty. With the 6kms coastal walk finished it is time to head away from the main attractions and pick up that coffee that I skipped earlier. Checking the time I think maybe I should replace the coffee with something a little stronger, and a lot colder.

I have loved travel for most of my life. And when I say travel, I don’t mean holidays. (Although, I do bloody love holidays). I mean what I would call real travel. Not cocooned in some 5 star hotel, plumping my pillows, and bedding down in Egyptian cotton sheets of the highest quality thread count, whilst the locals can’t afford food and drink, let alone shelter. Not soothed by air conditioning when the locals live in temperatures that could cook an egg.

And not visiting a place, to stay imprisoned within the confines of a resort, owned by an overseas conglomerate, never to venture outside, to interact with the locals. No. I want to sample some amazing street food. I want to smell the spices. I want to be visually bombarded with colour, and activity. I want to contribute to the local economy, not the faceless one.

When people tell me they have been to a certain country, when in fact they never left their international hotel resort drives me mad. If you are going to visit a country, visit that country, its people, and its customs. India is not best seen through the windows of your air-conditioned tour bus. You won’t see some of Mexico’s best temples, from early civilisation, from your lounger in a US run holiday resort. And the UK is not best seen from an open top bus in London. Whilst I’m on that point, no open top bus is probably good advice, knowing the English weather.

The amount of people I talk to here who tell me they went to the UK and loved London. The end. The whole of the UK, and they loved London. If I had a Bitcoin for every time somebody here asked me “when do you fly to London” whenever I visit the UK, I still wouldn’t understand Bitcoin. But I would have a lot of them. By the way, I blatantly stole that one, so if you are reading this, over your freshly baked focaccia with smashed avo, I do heartily apologise. The blank stares I get when I ask people what they thought of the Lake District, the beautiful Cornish coastline, or the wonders of Edinburgh and Glasgow, confounds me.

One of the greatest travel writers, Paul Theroux, said “tourists don’t know where they have been, travellers don’t know where they are going.” And that encapsulates the feeling, and the joy of travel. Waking up one day, not knowing where you will be going to bed. The unbridled freedom this gives. Backpacking. Independent travel. Whatever label we want to give to it, it is about immersing yourself in a country, and a culture. Find your favourite local bakery. Your favourite spot for morning coffee. Order it in the local language. OK, I admit this could be difficult in Scotland. Laugh along when you get it completely wrong. Walk the streets, smell the smells. Listen to the cacophony of sounds. See what the locals do. Just sit and people watch. Let your mind wander. A form of meditation. Be present.

This is the travel that I have in my heart. What I yearn for most days. Trapped in an office, earning the money to be able to escape the office, and go off and do these things feels like a Faustian pact. Modern life has a way of keeping you in chains. To enjoy a lot of the things that we want to enjoy, we need money. And so we sell our services, to the highest bidder. A roaming troubadour. A means to an end.

And this is where our life conditioning comes in again. We are told that we need to work hard, save lots of money in our superannuation, or pension, and then, when we reach retirement age, which seems to keep creeping inexorably up, we can take that money and “enjoy” life. And I have seen how that works out for a lot of people. My own father amongst them. His dream was to retire and move to Spain. A very modest dream. And that man worked harder than anybody I have ever known. But he never got to live out his dream. Cancer took his dream away.

I read of people who strive every day, struggle every day, ticking off the days to retirement. Then retirement comes along, and they are suddenly struck down with a fatal heart attack.

OK, OK, I know I have being a little morbid. And a trifle dramatic. I am not naive enough to think this happens everyone. Lots of people do get to retire, and go off and do the things they have dreamt about all their hard-working life. But is it worth taking the chance? Every day I bottle up all these feelings. Keep the lid on them. Do a job that I feel trapped in. Office bound.

That I am doing this until some arbitrary date in the future seems pointless. I have money in the bank. And I have my health and fitness. For now. I have to admit, my knees give me cause for concern most mornings. So why am I not off travelling? Living the life I would prefer to live. Tipping the scales so that the balance is in favour of travel, and less so on work. There are places in the world I am desperate to see. Why am I still ironing shirts for work on Sunday afternoons, and not packing my bags?

Only I can answer that.