Just Beach

I never came to the beach or stood by the ocean
I never sat by the shore under the sun with my feet in the sand
But you brought me here, and I’m happy that you did
‘Cause now I’m as free as birds catching the wind

I always thought I would sink, so I never swam
I never went boatin’, don’t get how they are floatin’
And sometimes I get so scared of what I can’t understand

But here I am
Next to you
The sky is more blue
In Malibu

We watched the sun go down as we were walking
I’d spend the rest of my life just standing here talking
You would explain the current, as I just smile
Hoping I just stay the same and nothing will change
And it’ll be us, just for a while
Do we even exist?
That’s when I make the wish
To swim away with the fish

Is it supposed to be this hot all summer long?
I never would’ve believed you
If three years ago you told me
I’d be here writing this song

But here I am
Next to you
The sky is so blue

Malibu. Miley Cyrus

(Caution: This work contains depictions of excessive beauty and gorgeous imagery. For those who dislike such content or have a weak heart, please be advised.)

I remember the first time I saw the beach. 

July 2019, and I had just arrived in Sydney – full of preconceived ideas and beliefs. Among them, the certainty that I would not like the beach. Never much of an ocean lover, I had decided to live close to my school in the lush, family-friendly suburb of Terrey Hills – only to realize, very quickly, that there wasn’t much going on after 5 pm.

And so, only four days later, I moved to Newport Beach, one of the Northern Beaches, and never left. Fell in love with the golden-red sand, the ever-changing surf, and my green bench. For the next three years, I explored the beaches close to me: hiking the lighthouse trail in Palm Beach, seeing the Sculptures in Bondi, running along the Northern Beaches from Dee Why to Manly, celebrating my first true Australian Christmas with my family in Freshie, learned to surf in Manly.

I did not like the beach. I loved it.

Fast-forward to last weekend, the early Sunday morning ablaze with the rising sun painting the sky in hues of orange. Stirred by the spectacle, I leaped out of bed in my Airbnb, hastily dressing as I dashed out the door toward the nearby beach, my gaze fixated on the radiant orange clouds against the dark blue canvas. It felt as though averting my eyes, even for a moment, would cause the magic to vanish. Arriving at the beach, I saw others who had gathered to witness the impending sunrise. Among them, a group of young French girls, meticulously make-uped and engrossed in an endless stream of selfies. I couldn’t help but wonder about the fate of these captured moments – perhaps they all went into a virtual cloud somewhere. Then again, I realized I contributed my fair share to the “Sunrise Cloud” with my own collection of sunrise photos. “Forever that girl who revels in the beauty of a colourful sky” – that was me in a nutshell.

6:14 am and sunrise was only three minutes away, when all six cell phones of the girls next to us started ringing. Their mothers were calling, all the way from France, being face-timed into this beautiful moment of red and orange and gold. In the distance, two dolphins were making their way across the bay: “Les dauphins! Les dauphins!” the girls screamed into their phones, loud enough to be heard all the way to France. Ah, to be young again. Or alone, so we could enjoy this beautiful moment in peace. And only hear the squeaking of the sand beneath our feet.

People come from all over the world to embrace Australia’s beautiful sandy beaches. Some are golden like the sun, others red like fire, and a few so white they almost look like clouds on the ground. Take Hyam’s Beach in Jervis Bay, for instance, ranked among the top 10 of the world’s 50 Best Beaches, where the sand, as fine as powder, emits a distinct squeak with every step. “In every grain of sand, there is a story of the earth,” they say.  7.5 sextillion sand grains on Earth. That is 75 followed by 17 zeros. That is a lot of grains of sand. And a lot of stories.

I sent a photo of the white beach home to Canada. One of my sons asks about black-sand beaches and red-sand beaches. Funny he mentioned that, because Australia has a lot of beaches – more than any other country in the world. 11.761 to be exact. And they come in all shapes and colours. 

There are the golden reddish brown sands of Newport Beach, made up of quartz with a hint of iron. The tropical white beaches in Queensland consist of broken-down skeletons of coral and other marine life. The black beaches on the west coast of New Zealand’s North Island, a mix of red and black volcanic rock.

Of the multitude of beaches adorning Australia’s shores, I’ve only had the pleasure of visiting a handful. The iconic Bondi Beach, expensive and full of tourists.  Squeaky Beach at Wilson’s Promontory in Victoria, voted Australia’s best beach in 2024. The golden sands of Noosa in Queensland. The unique shape of Wineglass Bay in Tasmania. And Palm Cove Beach at the Great Barrier Reef with its tropical feel to it.

I remember taking my students to the beach for Afternoon Activities,  running along Killcare Beach at Bouddie National Park for the hardest run I had ever done; the roughness and unspoiled beach of The Edge of the World in Tasmania. If I count all the beaches I have visited during my time here in Australia, I may have seen about 30 or 40. Australia has over 10,000 beaches in total. To see them all, I would have to visit one per day for the next 32 years. Let me quit my job and get right on it. 

Over the holidays, I watched the movie “The Beach.” Remember Leonardo DiCaprio, young and full of life? He plays Richard, an American tourist searching for meaning by escaping modern technology. During his vacation in Thailand, he meets a lovely French girl and receives a treasure map from a troubled expatriate. Together, they embark on a journey to a secluded paradise on a nearby island. But soon, their ideal life is shattered as conflicts arise, and they realize paradise isn’t free from problems.

Paradise isn’t just a place; it’s a feeling of connection. Take my beloved Newport Beach, for instance. It’s made up of countless unique grains of sand, each as distinct as a snowflake. Sand forms over millions of years as rocks weather and erode, travelling thousands of miles down rivers and streams before reaching the beach. Here, each grain finds its purpose as part of a larger whole. Even the smallest contribution, like the squeaky sounds of sand on Hyam’s Beach, adds to the beach’s charm. It’s a reminder that when we all work together, amazing things can happen. And that’s why I’ll always remember the squeaky beach.

Every morning, as I leave my small white granny flat at dawn to catch the bus to school, I always make sure to stop at the beach along the way. Sometimes, I pause to admire the view, perhaps even snapping a photo. I’ve made a promise to myself: the day I stop noticing this beauty around me, it’ll be time for me to move on.

Returning to school after the holidays has been tough. There have been many changes and disappointments, and it feels like we’ve lost sight of our common goals, with everyone focusing on their own tasks. I’ve also realized that I no longer take the time to stop at the beach in the morning. Caught up in my daily routine and worries, I’ve begun to take it for granted. I’ve started defining myself and my life solely through my job as a teacher. But perhaps I should take a page from Ken’s advice in the movie Barbie:

“You know, surfer is not even my job. And it is not lifeguard. Which is a common misconception. It’s actually my job … it’s just beach.”

Beach on!