One weekend it’s flying home so Sydney from Paris via Doha and the next it’s hitting the wide open roads of New South Wales’ finest motorways and highways headed for a weekend at the beach in Kiama Downs.
We began, bright (the sky, not necessarily me personally) and early in our old ‘hood at version 2.0 of my favourite cafe in Gladesville – Cav&Co,
It was lovely catching up with the owner who’s about to become a dad any day now and also our much loved traveling companions.
Naturally, I had to eat up for the hours of driving ahead.
It was my first time driving solo south of the city and thanks to the caravan of cars of our friends, we all got there safe and sound.
Our Airbnb wasn’t going to be ready for a few hours so we walked down the road to Jones beach.
The boys wasted no time in chasing the waves and exploring.
We then rolled into town for a pub lunch and some sightseeing.
The lighthouse and the blowhole both obliged us by looking and doing their part.
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| Looking down the driveway. |
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| And out across the backyard. |
There’s something about beach houses.
The moment you’re given the keys for them, you don’t really want to leave.
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| Priorities. |
We stayed in Saturday evening.
Girls’ drinks had to be had. And Domino’s home delivery had to be shared. For all its perfection, Kiama isn’t live on UberEats. Yet.
I was up just before dawn, waiting for the sun to rise over what felt like our own private beach. I had a mug of tea made with South Coast milk while I was at it.
Definitely the most picturesque yoga practice I’ve done in some time. As the waves crashed on the beach and as the low lying clouds picked up the colours of the rising sun, so went my ten minutes of yoga. Well, seven and a half minutes, to be exact because then the boys woke up….
and Twisties were had for breakfast,
while syrup waffles were melted over mugs of coffee.
After breakfast, we were off to the beach one more time before heading home.
Goodbye, Kiama Downs.
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| Cathedral Rocks at the end of Jones Beach. |
In the meantime, though, I have a few pieces of your beach squirrelled away in my glass yoghurt jars from Paris to remember you (and Paris) by.
And that’s all my exciting travels for the year done and dusted.
Which only means one thing. It’s time to start planning my 2020 travels….