Musings

Things We Take for Granted

By Shelley Banks

Last year, our Euro Summer adventure was filled with unforgettable sights, sounds, and smells—sensations that lingered long after our suitcases were tucked away back home. While we were awestruck by the grandeur of ancient cathedrals and temples and the energy of cosmopolitan cities, sometimes, it was the smallest things that stuck out.

Simple, everyday things that we overlook until we travel. Public toilets, for example: in Australia, they’re free and accessible, allowing us to dash in and out without a second thought. In Europe, however, public toilets come with a price tag. Each visit required us to rummage through our bags in search of coins before gaining entry.

Something else we missed was good coffee. Throughout our eight weeks abroad, not once did we encounter a brew that matched the rich, smooth flat whites from our local café. Every coffee we tried tasted disappointingly like weak, warm, flavoured milk. Despite repeated attempts to find a decent cup, we were continually let down.

But the beach—that’s really where it hit us. In Australia, all you need to do is grab a towel and togs, some sunscreen, thongs, sunglasses and a hat, and off you go. Want to set up a cabana on the soft, white sand? Go for it. Want to swim until you’re as wrinkled as a prune? No worries. It’s all free and open to everyone.

In Italy on the other hand, when we went to the beach, we had to pay. And almost fell over when we realised how much it cost—AU$150! For this, we got two sunlounges and an umbrella, wedged so close to our neighbours we could pass them a drink without moving. And the sand? More like pebbles, rough underfoot, making each step a careful negotiation.

Surrounded by the scent of coconut sunscreen and a chorus of accents—Italian, German, French, Spanish—the other beachgoers seemed unperturbed by the expense, unaffected by the exchange rate we had to deal with. The spectacle of countless multicoloured umbrellas lining the shore was impressive, but from our sunlounges in the back row, our view of the water was obscured by the crowds. A closer spot would have cost even more.

Swimming required us to gingerly step over sunbaked rocks, wincing with each movement, before reaching the water—only to find even more rocks waiting beneath the surface.

As often happens during travel, we chatted with other tourists, sharing stories about where we’re from, how long we were staying, and our impressions of the destination. Upon learning we were Australian, many asked, ‘Why are you here at the beach? Don’t you have great beaches at home?’ Our answer was always yes—and they’re free—which never failed to elicit surprise.

One of the joys of travelling is having new experiences so we were glad we spent the day at the beach. But only once. We much prefer the freedom to wander onto any beach we like without having to pay for something that nature provides for free.

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