Bondi Staycation
Around this time of the year, I'd likely see myself jetting away on an Airbus A380 high up above the clouds. I'd wander the streets of an unfamiliar city with an Antler luggage in tow and a crumpled piece of map clutched in my small, clammy hands. But thanks to COVID, I've been forced to rethink the way I travel. Instead of crossing timezones, I could perhaps fly to my room, or float aimlessly in the confines of my mind.
A week ago, my sister suggested for us to do a staycation at the iconic Bondi Beach, only an hour away from home by public transportation. To be frank, I've never been on a staycation before, and the thought of being a tourist in my own home city seemed a little farfetched—mind you, Sydney was going through a second wave of COVID at that time. It wasn't a good time to be travelling anywhere.
I was feeling stressed all week, and the benefits seemed to outweigh the risks. So what the heck.
There are two types when it comes to packing for a trip: the last minute packers and the early birds. I'm the latter, so oftentimes I like to be prepared days and even weeks in advance. Despite that, packing for a short two-day staycation trip is anxiety-inducing. Well, at least for me. Should I bring my Kobo E-reader? Which camera lens should I take—the heavy, but all-rounder 24-70mm or the lightweight 50mm? And the million dollar question, how many face masks will I need?
Wait, hang on. What if I've forgotten something halfway through the trip? Would it be okay for me to hop on a public bus to the CBD and catch the the T1 train line home to fetch it? But wouldn't that defeat the purpose of a staycation? These were some of the questions I mulled over, and yet I haven't even left home.
Don't get me wrong. I like preparing for trips, whether it's for shorter stays or longer multi-country trips. I enjoy the anticipation and excitement it brings. What I don't like are the high expectations I have, the kind that trips me up, and makes me fall head first on my face.
Before I even set foot in Sydney International Airport, my mind would wander far and wide wherever my imagination would take me. I've anticipated for weeks and months at a time what it would be like to ride a camel in the sandy stretches of Rajasthan's deserts, or to wake up early with the locals for a steaming cup of Hong Kong-style milk tea at a Cha Chaan Teng in Sheung Wan. I've even daydreamed about what it would be like to soak in a private onsen while appreciating a pastel sunset view of Mt. Fuji in the distance.
And that's why one's imagination can be a dangerous place, but uh, I digress.
On our sun-drenched Bondi to Coogee walk, my sister and I passed by many smaller beaches including Tamarama, Bronte, and Clovelly. All of them were packed with couples, friends, and families enjoying a beachside BBQ, a game of volleyball, or a swim in the shallow waters. When we arrived at Coogee Beach, we stopped for some crispy battered fish and chips at a local joint. We then retreated to a short half-hour picnic underneath the shaded trees, watched the world go by, before we headed back onto the coastal trail to Bondi.
Normally, the six kilometre path is packed with throngs of tourists armed with cameras this time of the year—it's a popular coastal trail famous for events like the annual Sculptures by the Sea. But instead, this time we were greeted by bikini-clad locals, sun-tanned surfers, and many four-footed friends. If anything, I found it amusing to think that I looked more like a tourist than a local, especially with a Canon DSLR dangling around my body.
The best part of my two-day staycation? Not only did I see a sunrise or a sunset, I saw both.