Going to a beach

My childhood memories of going to a beach involved going in a tour bus, a dip in the ocean, another dip in the “good water” and then changing clothes in the open space, which was embarrassing and awkward. Then going to the market street to buy hand-fans made of palm leaves and buying  palm sugar in boxes made of palm leaves. Then the vast Madras beach, which was too hot to step foot on. Never understood why people went to such a hot hostile beach and what did they enjoy there. Not to mention the crowd and the unclean environment. Then came the English seaside experience. At first I kept looking for a beach, which was not there. All that muddy puddles and yucky muddy puddles, and then suddenly there was the sea, looking like a big blue waveless pond, calm and quiet. The sea was quite English. Calm, controlled and not expressing. To a person who is used to having noise as the soul of life, the sea looked depressing. And the absence of beach looked yucky. Thank God that I didn’t go with a lot of excitement about the visit to the beach. You got to live in this gloomy country for a one whole year of gloomy depressing cold winter and sprinkles for rain to appreciate the yucky muddy puddles for sea and beach. Give me the scorching sun and the shade under a neem tree any day. That was life. Life has to have drama. The sun and the shade. That was life. Noisy houses and the quiet gullies. That was life. Long gone. long lost. Back in the muddy puddle seaside, children were excited to see anything sandy. I had to sit down to get the concept of going to the English seaside. What’s with the windbreakers around some people? Probably I will never get that, but I am quiet and calm, sitting down on the sand and  not expecting anything else. Just need a book and less two kids, to enjoy the sit down. Not yet. the boy loved the visit to the beach. The girl complained about the prickly sand and sticks getting inside her sandals and did not think anything about the visit was enjoyable.  It was a good day out, truly.

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Edited to add:

How can I forget the must haves of the English day out? the KITES of course! We did not forget to carry a couple of kites. It can be an enlightening experience to see the competitiveness and the display of skills and cleverness in flying kites. The boy managed to get his kite off the ground and my girl didn’t give a fleeting look at that colorful thing, called kite. My girl.

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