Lime green bikini and revenge of the scallops

I celebrate being back in Bondi by running to meet Diane at the beach – bikini and keys, no I don’t need a cell phone I’ll find her. Diane who has spent 4/7 days this last week as a browning beach bum and who never wears a top because why would you. She is so wonderfully French she is absolutely impervious to the radius of gaping mouths drinking up her delicious figure – not a care in the world as we are jumping and squealing in the brisk surf. Gossip exchanged and evening breeze setting on, it’s time to head home. Kisses as she ascends the bus. I turn to cross the street and realize, oh Diane, you have my keys!

I beg the grocer to loan me two dollars for the bus. The driver picks me up – we both know I’ve under paid but he doesn’t seem to mind. At the next stop two Orthodox Jewish women hop on, long-sleeves, flowing skirts, head scarves. And there I am in dripping wet lime green (not my most modest specimen of beach-wear) without a peanut to my name. Not a completely uncommon site – Bondi is home to both the beach-bunnies and Orthodox Jews – but this juxtaposition pushes the extremes.

When we get to Vaucluse, the wealthy Jewish neighborhood, I of course cannot remember which mansion it is where Diane works, so I have to head to Giselle’s bakery where Diane works part-time. Giselle hasn’t seen me much of late, and now she’s seeing a whole lot.

“Lizzi! You’re back!” She quickly sends me off with Diane’s correct address around the corner and I return with keys and $10, half of which I immediately spend on a pie. “What are the choices?” Would you believe? Plain, steak and mushroom and… Malaysian curry! I go for the latter and settle into Giselle’s most recent chapter, “The Un-expecting Grandmother”…

A year ago when I first met Giselle she was a seasoned single mom with grown(ish) boys who worked with her in their traditional Dutch bakery. The room has the classic immigrant business signature: two giant flags, Holland and Australia side by side. Below lie a host of Aussie and European cakes, pies and shortbread that makes sticks of butter a light snack. The only thing heavier is Giselle’s workload as she has been working off loans left to her by the long-gone ex. She’s ecstatic to tell me the loans are now gone, but so are her boys. Just one year ago the boys were dancing and dating, and now they are wed-locked dads. Only last January Giselle, her boys, Diane and I went on a “Salsa Cruise” on Sydney Harbour, a dinner and dance spectacular where I may or may not have had a dance off on-stage with a bride to be and win free drinks at the bar… Just one year ago! And now Giselle has TWO granddaughters. Beautiful girls, but she can’t help taste the bittersweet of this sort of spontaneity. Not when birth control is so readily available.

I thank my uterus for having kept it’s population sub-one thus far. Otherwise I wouldn’t be wining and dining with Demetra and Jazz in little black dresses this Friday night. Grilled haloumi, slow-poached pork and braised scallops – oh they were so good going down… Demetra’s a diva and South African television star and knows her way around the Sydney music scene. Jay Z’s DJ is in town, and she somehow gets us on the guest list. Equipped with amaretto sours, I immediately ask the guy on the couch if this seat’s taken, so us girls can sit right up front at the DJ station. The second we sit down Demetra and Jazz are in fits of giggles, and I know we’re not drunk because dinner was a one-glass event. It turns out the random guy next to me is Australia’s biggest dance celebrity. Of course he is. The girls can’t believe I even talked to him. I pulled a similar move last year near Election Day. Enjoying my cappuccino in a café, I overheard two gentlemen discussing Obama and the election process. “Excuse me”, I interrupted, “May I ask you a question?” The man in the suit looked somewhat annoyed, and begrudgingly replied in the affirmative. “Are you Australian?” I continued, at which point the man broke out a huge smile. I had a question about the Australian electoral process, and after he sorted me out, wished me good morning, and took his leave. Once out the door, his friend leaned over and told me he was one of Australia’s most successful comedians.

Unfortunately the Australian dance-extraordinaire left quite early so we never got to see his moves, but the music was hot and we grooved until our feet gave out.

Oh! And then those conniving mollusks had their day! While I lost mine. Sailing was out of the question, and I barely had enough strength to lounge around on the beach with as brasilieras in the afternoon. Unfortunately said sickness made laundry an imperative, and after biking back from the laundromat and hanging up my sheets, I was in bed asleep at 5pm. Woke up once disoriented at 2am and then straight on till morning.

Today there’s not much I can do other then discern whether my intestines are still in knots and whether or not that very cute dress I tried on the other day will alleviate the symptoms.