The beach by the airport

I had a rare day off of classes during the typical work week - a real conundrum to any engineer. Sandra told me to enjoy my day off, and I thought that was a good idea; I have the entirety of the semester to work hard, I'd completed all my work for the week, and I'm in Australia now, so I ought to make the most of it.

I went to the gym in the morning, per usual, and got a good workout in - the start to any good day, of course. Then, immediately after lunch, we set off for a little known beach directly next to the runway at Sydney Airport.

My friend, Nick, is a freelance photographer who photographs airlines. He's become quite established over the years, winning awards in his industry and selling single photos for thousands of dollars to the airlines he photographs. So he had heard about this beach as a great vantage point to get that perfect shot on planes as they land and take off, and so we decided we'd make an adventure of it.

Nick's friend, a local, told him there was one bus that went directly from UNSW's campus to the beach, and which bus it was. After my toes started to turn red from the Australian sun, we caught our bus and were on our way! Until two stops later, when it was the "last stop, folks." We had to hop off, in the middle of some small town, with no idea where we were. But we found a schedule for buses approaching, picked a bus that would work for us, and bought some bus tickets at a nearby shop. While we were waiting, a really smiley old lady told us that the butcher shop that we were standing near was the best in Sydney. Then she chatted with us a bit, told us she was born in the U.S. but ran away from home in 1959 and grew up in Australia. That's seriously running away from home - can you imagine...? She boarded the next bus and was on her way, smiling and waving at us from the window.

Then one of the meanest ladies I've ever heard scooted by on her wheelchair. Naturally, we're inclined to empathise with those less fortunate than us, particularly when it comes to any sort of disability. But this woman would stop every ten feet in a tantrum, and seem to throw a fit at the man who was following her. Perhaps a guy who simply shouldn't be following her, hey? I can understand that. But as she got closer, you could make out her conversation, until we heard, "You are to do as you're told! You're a social worker!" and she continued to zoom. I think that is one of the most blunt displays of disrespect I've ever witnessed, and I'm quite ashamed by it, simply because we're both human. You wouldn't treat an animal that way, nor even Siri (and the sole purpose of Siri is to "do as it's told"), so why does it seem justified to talk to someone who's hired to help you in that manner? In an effort to understand, her life is not easy. But there are limits no less. Although I've been very fortunate throughout my life and therefore cannot say I know how she feels, I would argue that no level of adversity should warrant that type of attitude. That's not cool.

However, that is where the misfortune of our travels ended. The rest of the journey was fantastic - we arrived at the beach to find only three or so other people there (but about ten dogs!). Several other photographers lined the rocky coast, waiting for a chance at the highly touted all black New Zealand aircraft. The water was beautiful, clear and calm. The whole atmosphere was like a great little getaway.

We stayed for about two and a half hours before heading back to campus. Nick got lots of shots of different airlines, and even snapped some of the birds around the beach. I enjoyed the serenity of the area and the tranquility of watching airplanes land and take off from only a few hundred feet away.

When we arrived back on campus, a friend, whose name I can only try to spell out (Tse-sin-koo-a), asked if I was up for some basketball after dinner. Thinking I had some advantage as an American, and since I hadn't played in a little while, I was definitely in. Surprisingly, everyone at the court was Asian, and as if to belabor the point, they only spoke Chinese, no English whatsoever. We scrounged up a team and hopped on the court - they play first to five baskets here (so no "first to 11" or "first to 21" like we do in the U.S.). I got whooped. We got better each game, but we ended up losing three in a row. On the walk back, Tse-sin-koo-a told me 90% of people in Beijing play basketball. After the game, he told me this... But that does explain why everyone seemed so good at the court, and why he was so excited to play.

A nice little Friday afternoon adventure, for sure. Lots happened throughout, and it was a lot of fun. And it sure wore me out.

#photo