Frankie

(Frankie) #1
BLOW-UP POOLThrifty shoppers will know the experience of
entering a Kmart for one pair of socks, then leaving with fairy lights,
two bean bags and a garden gnome. This particular weekend,
I somehow walked out with an inflatable pool. “But it’s on sale!”
I screamed internally to my tut-tutting conscience. “And it’s going to
be hot on Sunday!” Fuelled by a combination of guilt and excitement,
I hurried home to become a summertime goddess and effectively
drown that pesky conscience. But here’s the thing about cheap pools:
you get what you pay for. And I paid for a dodgy pump. After several
hours of inflating, I compromised with a half-puffed pool and a warm
drink. Gathering some mates, we optimistically lowered ourselves
into cold water and a surprising number of leaves. The result? I did
instantly cool down. Brilliant! Not so brilliant was the realisation that,
while the image on the box showed a very large vessel, the four of us
were crammed into a slowly deflating kiddy pool. Still worth it.DF
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RIVERI’ve seen a lot of movies about the dangers of rivers. It’s almost
a genre in Australian filmmaking. Undertows, snakes, snagging
logs, crocodiles and hidden rocks intent on knocking swimmers
unconscious. Oh, and eels. It all makes me a little uncomfortable
with the idea of river-swimming. Yet, despite the warnings and low
hum of fear, I still headed for a dip in the closest waterway, and
it’s not just because I’m a cavalier daredevil. River-swimming is
awesome. From that first freezing splash to rope swings, the joy of
rapids, and the peace of floating downstream on your back as the
whipbirds call from the trees. Although, this time, the whipbirds
had to compete with obnoxious pop songs blaring from the portable
stereo of some nearby picnickers. Having faced death by swimming
in the river, I felt invincible, so approached the group to tell them to
turn it off. They ignored me, but even Post Malone couldn’t ruin my
experience. Well, maybe a little bit.CC
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PUBLIC POOLLook, I grew up being forced to do swimming lessons
in public pools, and the smell of chlorine is a trigger. At the first
sting of chemicals in my eyes, my muscles ache and my brain starts
racing for excuses to get me out of class – asthma, my period,
prostate problems, anything. Even without my horrific flashbacks,
public pools are just so... public. When I visit this time, there are
people everywhere, and noise, so much noise. Walking into the indoor
pool area is like walking into a bat colony – screeching, terrifying
creatures jostle and fly around me. The noise of children splashing
and lifeguards hollering, parents fussing and teenagers flirting just
makes me wish I’d stayed home in a cold bath. That is, until my friend
appears with Bubble O’Bills and Killer Pythons. Redemption.CC
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THE OCEANWhenever I travel, people exclaim, “Oh,Australian!
You guys love surfing!” And I chuckle a nervous laugh of agreement,
as though my pale and awkward limbs could ever be capable
of hanging ten. (I don’t know what that saying means.) Truthfully,
I can barely swim, and the ocean and its hostile waves have always
intimidated me somewhat. But when the sea is still and the sun is
bright, there’s nothing quite like the beach: it calms the soul, relaxes

the mind, and gives me an excuse to yell at seagulls. There’s a reason
people flock to the ocean during summer – it cools you down like
nothing else. If you like a surf, more power to you, my gnarly chum,
but I’ll stick to a nice, soothing doggy paddle through the shallows.
My only tip is to remember to slip, slop, slap, because, as everyone
knows, the best beach day is a sun-smart day. Cowabunga. DF

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BATHHOUSE I love being warm to the point where my skin is
steaming. I also love being nude. So, I’m a very clean pig in mud at
a Japanese bathhouse. The only time I’ve been panicked by the onsen
nudity was in my 20s, when I thought I spotted my boss stripping off
nearby. That was not relaxing. But you can’t choose the nudes you’re
going to waddle between sauna and hot bath with, so you may as well
embrace it. The process of washing before communal bathing abates
any fear of other people’s germs, and my hesitation about sharing
public bodies of contained water. I clean, you clean, we all clean. The
sting of hot water on my freshly scrubbed skin; the steam; the almost
religious quiet – they all align to make this an insanely relaxing way to
while away an hour or two. I wish I were the kind of person who could
linger longer, but after a while I get bored being so calm, and it’s time
to move on to the white robes, hotel slippers and green tea. CC

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WATERFALL As the great philosophers TLC wisely proclaimed,
“Don’t go chasing waterfalls.” They made a valid point, as water
is a notoriously difficult substance to track, and unless you’re an
experienced cliff diver, a slippery drop could be fatal – or worse,
deeply embarrassing. But when it comes to swimming spots... folks,
I cannot recommend a waterfall enough. As part of this important
work assignment, I went on a short hike to a natural waterhole and
spent most of my time there shrieking, “HOW IS THIS REAL?” much
to the delight of my fellow splish-splashers (they feigned annoyance
for comic purposes, but secretly loved my enthusiasm). Man has
tried – in suburban aquatic centres and tacky hotels – to recreate
such a beautiful swimming hole, but we’ve never succeeded. Large
ferns provided natural shade, and we alternated between waterfall
showers and lizard impersonations on smooth rocks. Yes, a waterfall
should never be chased without sufficient qualifications, but if you
can responsibly locate and swim under one... do it. DF

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BATHOne common self-care recommendation is to fill a large
ceramic bowl with one of nature’s most vital resources; add smelly,
fizzing substances; then lower your entire body into it like some sort
of fleshy poached egg. This is one activity I have never understood,
and yet here I am again, alone with my thoughts, floating in my own
filth. Disgusting. Sure, a bath sounds romantic and peaceful in theory,
especially in the winter, but the reality? The water only reaches a
perfect temperature for approximately 12 seconds, and the rest
of the time you either sit there naked and shivering, or gradually
overheat and wonder if humans can accidentally cook themselves
in a desperate attempt to wind down. While I can see how some
lateral thinkers might consider this a quick way to cool off during the
warmer months, I found this experience very stressful, and exited
the tub neither relaxed nor refreshed. Zero poached eggs out of
a potential five. DF

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LAKEHaving grown up on white-sand beaches, I’m shy of muddy
shorelines and dark bodies of water. To me, dark water is dangerous,
a time when sharks are feeding, so lakes and quarries have me on
high alert. I swim way too close to my friends, the way a dog does,
almost paddling onto their backs. I try to make it look like it's an
accident, but stay close as I frantically tread water, avoiding the
bottom for fear of what lurks there. It takes me a while to feel OK
about my feet touching the slimy, rock-filled mud below, and my
inability to see anything underwater. As my body adjusts to the
cold, my nervous system eventually calms down too, and I begin
to enjoy the vastness of the lake. I don’t swim far from friends, but
I also don’t feel like I’m about to be death-rolled every second. I do
watch for snakes skating across the surface of the water, though.
You can’t overcome every fear. CC

taking the plunge


DEIRDRE FIDGE AND CARO COOPER


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