The beauty of living in a big city is that, if you make the effort, you are quite often able to see and experience many different things in a relative short amount of time and small amount of space. Often things you could never plan for. Yesterday was one of those days that offered several new and memorable moments.
Because the weather office was calling for 37 plus heat, we decided we would pack up our bathers and boogie boards and head for the Brighton Beach area - a very photographed but yet-to-be-seen-by-us area south of the CBD. Having done our research online, we knew to take the tram down to Flinders and then catch the Sandringham train almost out to the end of the line. It was all rather smooth and convenient and as we sped through neighbourhood after tree-lined neighbourhood, I dreamed of such a train line doing a similar route up to and through Leaside on its way to Don Mills and beyond. Without wanting to sound too "us and them", Toronto's public transit really is the pits by comparison.
Upon reaching Brighton Beach we disembarked with the rest of the train and noticed we were the youngest by several years. It would seem we were heading for the teen beach - or maybe they were in their thirties and we're just old. Anyway, we scurried across the hot street and the hotter sand and set up shop in front of the calm, gorgeous ocean. With no surf to play in, the boys took to castles and shell collecting along with a few dips in the surprisingly chilly ocean. One of the public service campaigns in Oz is called "Slip, Slop, Slap" and is geared toward safe sun management. This was a day where we would be employing a triple-slop on all sides! One of the other things we decided one cannot live without is a shelter/umbrella of some sort. For anyone other than Lint, who at some point needs to retreat to the shade, the umbrella is an essential beach-going item and is now on the list for next week's holiday in Lorne.
After a warm, beachy lunch where the iced tea was more like soup, we picked up our stuff and moved down the beach to a cooler spot on a point where the boys had great fun searching some tidal pools for shells, crabs, and starfish. It is perhaps our favourite thing in the world to do - sit and watch as the boys explore their world together. Wanting to move once more to an area beside some funky painted beach houses we walked a little further and plunked our gear down in an area that was decidedly more family. Another great play in the sand and water was capped off with an icey pole that forced Colin and I to deal with heat on the soles of our feet that I have never before had to endure. This was seriously "could fry an egg on that" territory!
Having maxed out on our sun quota for the day, we walked toward where we thought the next train station would be and did a fairly good job of finding it - only needing directions from one kind local and a final 50 metre sprint to catch the train just pulling in. We plunked ourselves down in the air-conditioned comfort and settled in for what should have been the 15 minute commute back to Flinders Station. That's when the fun began. About 3 stations into our journey the train stopped and the driver came on the PA saying there was a delay ahead and we would be waiting for a few minutes. Fifteen minutes later he announced that there was a police situation on the tracks and we would be waiting for at least 10 minutes more. That turned into 10 more minutes and then ten minutes more and then we were waiting indefinitely. That's when the teenagers began to jump.
We had been sharing a car with about 40 people, mostly teens, and as the delay got longer and longer, their patience got shorter and shorter. What a fascinating study in human behaviour as each person and group of teens displayed their ability or inability to cope with the situation. Their conversations got louder. The swearing became more frequent. They began to pace the car. Their outrage was of course more pronounced than anyone else's - as if their appointments or destinations ranked above all others. Out came the cell phones and the diatribes continued as they parlayed the conspiracy to ever sympathetic friends. Then they began to consider the idea of simply getting off the train. Those of us - older, maybe wiser, with kids, or simply with caution - watched and shook our heads as one by one the teens jumped from the train and slid down the side of the tracks. Like lemmings, once one went they all did, dragging a few willing older passengers along to freedom. We watched with interest and growing jealousy as we began to realize that they were now free and we were still trapped on the train.
Eventually, an announcement came on informing the remaining passengers that we could either get off the train or stay on and take our chances that it would start up eventually. Mostly because we thought we might be the only ones left, we decided to get off and join the throng of people shuffling along the tracks and back to the station we had departed 45 minutes prior. Apparently, a poor soul ahead had been contemplating ending it all with a jump from a bridge to in front of our train and the police had been spending all this time trying to "talk him down". Knowing this seemed to take the "irateness" out of our discontent though the stifling heat only served to crank it back up again. Though with nothing we really had to do and nowhere we really had to be, the heat and humanity were in fact about as stress free as could be. We imagined how we would have both been popping a gasket if at home on the TTC trying to pick up the kids...and speaking of the kids, they were heroic.
Because the weather office was calling for 37 plus heat, we decided we would pack up our bathers and boogie boards and head for the Brighton Beach area - a very photographed but yet-to-be-seen-by-us area south of the CBD. Having done our research online, we knew to take the tram down to Flinders and then catch the Sandringham train almost out to the end of the line. It was all rather smooth and convenient and as we sped through neighbourhood after tree-lined neighbourhood, I dreamed of such a train line doing a similar route up to and through Leaside on its way to Don Mills and beyond. Without wanting to sound too "us and them", Toronto's public transit really is the pits by comparison.
Upon reaching Brighton Beach we disembarked with the rest of the train and noticed we were the youngest by several years. It would seem we were heading for the teen beach - or maybe they were in their thirties and we're just old. Anyway, we scurried across the hot street and the hotter sand and set up shop in front of the calm, gorgeous ocean. With no surf to play in, the boys took to castles and shell collecting along with a few dips in the surprisingly chilly ocean. One of the public service campaigns in Oz is called "Slip, Slop, Slap" and is geared toward safe sun management. This was a day where we would be employing a triple-slop on all sides! One of the other things we decided one cannot live without is a shelter/umbrella of some sort. For anyone other than Lint, who at some point needs to retreat to the shade, the umbrella is an essential beach-going item and is now on the list for next week's holiday in Lorne.
After a warm, beachy lunch where the iced tea was more like soup, we picked up our stuff and moved down the beach to a cooler spot on a point where the boys had great fun searching some tidal pools for shells, crabs, and starfish. It is perhaps our favourite thing in the world to do - sit and watch as the boys explore their world together. Wanting to move once more to an area beside some funky painted beach houses we walked a little further and plunked our gear down in an area that was decidedly more family. Another great play in the sand and water was capped off with an icey pole that forced Colin and I to deal with heat on the soles of our feet that I have never before had to endure. This was seriously "could fry an egg on that" territory!
Having maxed out on our sun quota for the day, we walked toward where we thought the next train station would be and did a fairly good job of finding it - only needing directions from one kind local and a final 50 metre sprint to catch the train just pulling in. We plunked ourselves down in the air-conditioned comfort and settled in for what should have been the 15 minute commute back to Flinders Station. That's when the fun began. About 3 stations into our journey the train stopped and the driver came on the PA saying there was a delay ahead and we would be waiting for a few minutes. Fifteen minutes later he announced that there was a police situation on the tracks and we would be waiting for at least 10 minutes more. That turned into 10 more minutes and then ten minutes more and then we were waiting indefinitely. That's when the teenagers began to jump.
We had been sharing a car with about 40 people, mostly teens, and as the delay got longer and longer, their patience got shorter and shorter. What a fascinating study in human behaviour as each person and group of teens displayed their ability or inability to cope with the situation. Their conversations got louder. The swearing became more frequent. They began to pace the car. Their outrage was of course more pronounced than anyone else's - as if their appointments or destinations ranked above all others. Out came the cell phones and the diatribes continued as they parlayed the conspiracy to ever sympathetic friends. Then they began to consider the idea of simply getting off the train. Those of us - older, maybe wiser, with kids, or simply with caution - watched and shook our heads as one by one the teens jumped from the train and slid down the side of the tracks. Like lemmings, once one went they all did, dragging a few willing older passengers along to freedom. We watched with interest and growing jealousy as we began to realize that they were now free and we were still trapped on the train.
Eventually, an announcement came on informing the remaining passengers that we could either get off the train or stay on and take our chances that it would start up eventually. Mostly because we thought we might be the only ones left, we decided to get off and join the throng of people shuffling along the tracks and back to the station we had departed 45 minutes prior. Apparently, a poor soul ahead had been contemplating ending it all with a jump from a bridge to in front of our train and the police had been spending all this time trying to "talk him down". Knowing this seemed to take the "irateness" out of our discontent though the stifling heat only served to crank it back up again. Though with nothing we really had to do and nowhere we really had to be, the heat and humanity were in fact about as stress free as could be. We imagined how we would have both been popping a gasket if at home on the TTC trying to pick up the kids...and speaking of the kids, they were heroic.
And so we sandwiched ourselves into an impossibly crowded tram, gritted our teeth, held our noses and wound our way back home arriving a mere three hours after we had left the beach. Definitely a different kind of Aussie adventure, but still an amazing memory to have when the suntans begin to fade.
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