Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Weekend in paradise (apparently)
We have been to the Gold Coast for the long weekend - another planet. Lovergirl's father has an apartment on the 39th floor of a building directly opposite the beach. The weather was bad most of the time so it was spectacular to be so high up, watching storms roll in over the sea and buffet the building. One interesting thing about the Gold Coast is that if you get off the disgusting main street (Hard Rock Cafe, McDonalds, chain pubs etc etc) and go down the back streets, there are a myriad little Asian restaurants - Japanese, Korean, Chinese, Indian, Malaysian - that are staffed by people actually from the respective countries (a rarity in Brisbane itself) and the Japanese and Korean restaurants, in particular, don't even have menus in English. Fantastic! We may end up spending a bit of time down there (cheap weekends away, easy with the babies) so it will be worth seeking out the good spots. Anybody know of any good spots on the Gold Coast? It did remind me of being on the cruise ship with Dad - similar demographic in the main streets - young thuggy people out to get pissed and PAHDY and lonely old people with too much money who can't think what to do with it, so they buy ostentatious matching jewelry sets (you know: earrings, necklace and bracelet that all match) and gamble. I really felt like any of the young men would be happy to slip a bit of GBH in an unattended drink.
I had a large stab of sad nostalgia on the babies' behalf, remembering when we would go away as a family to friends' houses in Anglesea/Ocean Grove/Rosebud/Rye. These were always ramshackle affairs with dusty collections of shells and driftwood on the windowsills and cold outdoor showers where you would hose off after the beach, and a supply of battered foam surfboards and buckets and li-los under the house, and the dads would do a barbecue practically every night, and if there were more people than could fit in the house, people pitched tents in the gardens. Junior and Lucky will have quite a different (and, I mutter to myself, not as good) experience of the beach holiday, if it is held in Grandpa's immaculate high rise apartment right in the centre of the Gold Coast. Do ramshackle beach cottages even still exist? It needs to be in a forsaken town with one (only one) tiny shop that sells fish and chips and ice creams.