Boxing Day Learning Curve

Beginning drivers sport a small P placard on their cars and after Boxing Day yesterday, I reckon there should be a B placard for those of us who don’t get all the intricacies of Boxing Day, which is the day after Christmas (Happy birthday to my sister, Seja!). We asked friends at our Christmas Day affair just what it was all about, and mostly we heard “shopping” and “the cricket”. So, imagine my surprise when I walked briskly down to our nearby neighborhood mall, prepared with my shopping bags and sharp elbows, to find the mall locked up tight! Kmart opened finally, but there were no rare bargains and no hordes of shoppers. Hmm. As for the cricket, I assure you we didn’t hunker down in front of the telly to watch the opening test. It was a glorious day, so for the Yanks, that means only one thing: Beach!

We went to a beach to the north of us and found the missing shoppers. The beaches all along the north coast were full of families enjoying a wonderful day. No wonder Aussies consistently rank so high in swimming competitions. They begin early in the water, even before they can hang onto a boogie board. I saw itty-bitties up and down the beach initiated into surfing by laughing parents. One mom had her two-year-old perched on the front of her surfboard as she rode in on some easy waves. Dan initiated his new surfboard while Jack and Abby boogied, jumped waves and tried to hold back the incoming tide with a sand wall. It was fabulous.

A Christmas to remember

I am forever in awe of Australian hospitality. There are few places I have been where the spirit of welcome is as pervasive and sincere as here downunder. We were included in an extended-family gathering on the south coast, and I mean included. With easy grace, people we had never met before made us feel as if we had been friends forever. The sister of one of Dan’s friends in the US engineered our invitation and the whole gang took us right in. They had even learned our names in advance and unerringly greeted us each by name. I am still trying to sort out the relationships, but in the end, it doesn’t matter. Great-grandmother to itty-bitty, friends, spouses, kids, and even us strangers, it’s all cherished family.

The setting is stunning, an Aussie-style beach house perched on a hill overlooking, of course, a sunlit cove. Planted with blooming agapanthas plus stuff we nurture endlessly in indoor pots, the garden frames the beach below. The address given us was Stanfield Park, so we assumed a park barbeque. Nope. The village is called Stanfield Park and so we were a little underdressed for a house party. No matter, no one cares, and by the time the pack of kids finished exploring the garden and under the house, they were so dirty, good clothes would have been a mess.

Wildlife spotting from the wide verandah included a big water dragon sprinting on his back legs for all he was worth, neck frilled out, while Preston the cat was in hot pursuit. With all the doors and windows open, Preston had made a usually-forbidden foray into the great outdoors. There were also some lovely red-headed parrots checking out the peach tree in the back garden. Wayne told the kids to find an ant lion nest, get some ants and see if they could see the ant lion pop up from his hole to grab the ant. They had not been too successful with ants, until the four-year-old stuck his hand in the cat’s dish and came up with an armful of ants. When I saw them last, Jessie was dashing by with his ants headed for an undisclosed location. They claim to have seen an ant lion, but who knows.

The spread was huge with all the promised delights: shrimp, oysters, salads, turkey, ham, and finished off by a truly amazing plum pudding with brandy custard sauce. We pulled crackers, called bon bons here, and wore the silly hats. Or some of us did; there may be a learning curve on this too. The kids became instant friends, and for Jack, that is pretty much out of his comfort zone. I am proud of him. Abby seems to have a knack for quick friendships; she’s missed her little chums at school so it was a relief for her to run with the pack.

After the meal, it was off to the beach with the new boogie boards Santa left for Jack and Abby. With three experienced surfer dads (Dan, Aaron and Wayne) there were plenty of adults to tutor the five kids, ages four to nine. Shelly, the oldest, is just about standing up on a board under Aaron’s expert guidance. I loved watching the kids playing so comfortably in the surf. Only one stinger (nasty jellyfish with a wollop) episode, too.

Homeward bound, the kids fell asleep in the car, a little sunburned, and definitely with sand in their pants. We tried getting them cleaned off in the lovely outdoor shower, but the sand is everywhere.




Truly a Christmas to remember.

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