Christmas at Bondi

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Today's going to be weird. Not only in that I'm missing the traditional Christmas madness that is Christmas with my family but that I'm going to be on Bondi beach topping up my tan rather than pulling on that additional Christmas woolly jumper and grabbing a spot by the fire.

I've tried to escape the madness of Christmas back home for a couple of years, with limited success. In days gone by, it was the highlight of my year - Christmas Eve in The Railway, catching up with old friends who, like me, had moved away but returned for the annual festivities, then Christmas Day with a minimum attendance of 10 at Mum's, which would be a full-on eat and drink fest from 8am until everyone fell asleep in an arm chair. My reasons for trying to escape were purely selfish - too tired from yet another busy run-up to Christmas at work to be anything other than moody and miserable, despite efforts otherwise. Family can do without spending time with grumpy me. Only a couple of years ago, it was a gargantuan effort to drag my sorry soul from my Poole sofa on Christmas morning to drive home - I thought I would have been more happy wallowing in self-pity for the day, alone, with only a bottle of red and a tube of Pringles for company.

Fortunately, the job is no more and I can't imagine not wanting to be home for Christmas if I was remotely in the vicinity. However I needed that one Christmas away, that one time when Christmas is boiling not freezing, where I don't have to do Boxing Day lunch (my least favourite day of the year - the thought of all that cold meat and pickle turns me green)... So this year is it, and Bondi is my chosen destination.

Sydney's weather for the last 6 weeks, as any local will testify, has been horrendous. Rain rain and more rain, making the likelihood of any barbeque on the beach a fanciful dream at best. My track record at Bondi isn't great either - last time here I was the only one on the beach in a monsoon downpour. The photo of me trying to look happy, giving the thumbs up to my experience, while being battered by raindrops the size of maltesers says it all.

Fortunately the curse has been lifted! The sun shone in a cloudless blue sky from morning until night. I grabbed the bus from Hyde Park, which was packed full of revellers in various Christmas outfits - from the obligatory santa hat (everyone has one/wears one), reindeer ears, red bikinis, tinsel - all heading for the same iconic destination. Everything runs as normal on Christmas day here - no shops shut, all the bars and restaurants stay open, so it's a full on day. Once at Bondi, it's clear that every backpacker worth their salt is in town. The beach is breathing room only - towels upon towels next to each other, spots reserved for the day of festivities. There's an alcohol ban in Bondi whereby you can only drink at the pre-organised festival at the Pavilion (convenient money spinner). I opted out - not due to the cost, but more to do with the fact I've got Skype duties later...

I met with Sam and Marie, two older backpackers that I met in Byron. A more civilised lunch than the rest of the teenagers, we sat down to bread and dips rather than bags of crisps. Marie snuck on a bottle of Jacobs Creek fizz (conveniently the same colour as the limeade I was drinking, to avoid suspicion from the powers that be) and we settled down to a nice afternoon in the sun, mixed up with a few dips in the ocean, where the waves were getting bigger by the second and crashing against us on the sandbank at the south of Bondi. In the middle of the ocean, the three Korean roommates from my hostel came bounding over - they had planned to spend their first day in Sydney today at the harbour but I talked them out of it and suggested they go to Bondi. So delighted with their decision, they bombed over to me to thank me, full of the enthusiasm of girls who wanted to party, finding their perfect party home!

Late afternoon and I headed to Jesse and Heidi's place at North Bondi. I turned up in a state - covered in sand and saltwater, they plonked me in the shower which, after a fair while of making do with grotty hostel showers, was amazing. Then food - wow. Antipasti - something I've been deprived of for months! And potato gratin for dinner. All accompanied by santa hats and great company. I've been spoilt. Then came the best Christmas present a girl could ask for - they asked if I'd stay with them rather than be stuck at the filthy hostel I'm currently residing in. I could have cried. The best news ever - I'm moving in tomorrow, and I'm over the moon.

A few skypes with the family tonight revealed my sister had a better Christmas present than the gift I'd just been given. To quote Mel Gibson, Freedom. And I'm delighted. I'll say no more, but those of you in the know will know what I'm getting at. Oh and I forgot to mention the other present highlight of today - the presents my mum packed for me when I first set off. She told me to hold them for Christmas and assured me that they were not food-related, which may restrict my ability to get into Australia on the grounds of smuggling... Turns out she fibbed - one bag of chocolate coins and a chocolate orange later, I'm in stitches. I've not been anywhere under 30 degrees each day so these chocolates have melted, constituted, melted etc...I would estimate 70 times to date. Indescribable - the fat had drained out of the chocolate so it was the consistency of wet sand. The thought that counted though Mum - thanks anyway! We had a laugh on Skype looking at how bad the chocolate looked, while I swigged my illegal red wine (all alcohol banned in this hostel in order to make you drink at their onsite bar...crafty devils) straight from the bottle. Spoke with Beau, Lou, and the Drummond clan and can't believe how much little Isla has grown - just shows you how long I've been away for. Had a chat with Clare, Anna and Vicky - miss you all so much too.

But, and much as I've had a fantastic day, most of all, I missed that Christmas day that I've been trying to avoid for years. It turns out it's a lot more fun than lying on a beach. Well not necessarily, but I'm secretly hoping that we have Christmas in March when I get back (Mum - stock up on that winter veg now!). My welcome home request is Christmas dinner...and just when my Mum thought she'd got out of cooking one until next Christmas....

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