Why it’s time to take a stand and protect the Burleigh we love
The response to the redevelopment of iconic corner carvery Tropicanaproves it’s not just about a ‘tired old takeaway’, but what it represents. This is how we save Burleigh.
Lifestyle
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Here comes the death knell for village Burleigh Heads.
The charm is gone. Overpopulated mess. Just another Surfers Paradise.
Burleigh is ruined – it’s too late.
Reading your comments as a local: ouch.
The overwhelming response to news corner carvery Tropicana is closing for redevelopment proves it’s not just about the loss of a “tired old takeaway”, but what that represents.
It’s the fish and chips I enjoyed with my parents as a little girl as the Norfolk pines filled with the deafening clamour of roosting lorikeets.
It’s the free-range days we’d spend between sand and surf, dashing across the sole-searing bitumen to the bakery on James St which served the kind of faux-cream-laden doughnuts you’d never catch in trendy Tarte’s windows.
I’d lose hours scouring ‘shell beach’ for ocean treasure, a strip now shadowed by punters in the Pavilion peanut gallery.
While I do save my most scathing side eye for walking past the venue that evicted Nook Espresso from its original home, we can’t blame the erosion of the Burleigh we love solely on owner Ben May.
Not on the Pavilion. Not on policing. Not even on the tram (maybe a little on the tram).
The parking was dismal decades ago.
In the late eighties, my sister and I would slide a little further down the back seat of our battered Tarago as our mum shamelessly stalked beachgoers for their space.
While I grasp the futility of calling back the tram that’s already bolted, what’s the point of an easy park if the place you want to visit no longer exists?
Burleigh is facing a death of a thousand cuts and that slow bleed can be the most dispiriting.
For me, it was Nook’s headland eviction that stung the most. Standing in that line every morning represented community.
Hot on the heels of that blow, the ugly redevelopment of Old Burleigh Theatre Arcade where more than 30 years ago I sat with my elbows propped on dubious rainbow tablecloths in a dimly lit Montezuma’s to share prawn nachos with my dad.
We need housing more than nachos – but could we have made even a teeny effort to blend that hallmark heritage brick facade with something more sympathetic than the Frankenstein tower our council approved?
Yet, Burleigh is not lost while we have the headland, where the sinking sun slices just so through the pines to paint picnickers in golden light.
While we have swims in Tally Creek, beers without a booking on the surf club balcony, koalas on the hill and dolphins in our blue backyard.
Nowhere stays the same and I don’t expect the Burleigh of my childhood to be an exception.
If we can’t keep cheap Tuesday Tropicana roasts, we can save the soul that drew so many of us here to begin with.
A village shouldn’t be defined by its size, but its spirit.
I live in a village.
When my husband is working overseas, my neighbours invite me around for coffee and homemade slice to make sure I’m not lonely. We mow each other’s verges, hang over the back fence to chat, say hi when we pass in the street, plan Christmas drinks.
Speaking to the Bulletin last week, the new owner of ‘Tropicana corner’ Josh Guok suggested that if we didn’t like the way Burleigh was going we should move: “ … for those who find it isn’t to their liking, there are always other places to explore.”
Here’s a better idea: we fight for the Burleigh we want.
We have re-energised representation and it’s time to take advantage of it.
If Hermann Vorster injects a fraction of the energy of his all-dancing, all-placard-waving campaign into his everyday custodianship, we are already in a better position.
Help our local, state and federal representatives make considered planning decisions that reflect local sentiment by telling them – loudly and persistently – what that looks like.
Have your say on the hotel development application for Burleigh Pavilion and the development applications that will, inevitably, follow it.
Change is OK, but it needs to be considered change.
As kids we didn’t bother washing the sand off our bare feet to get ice cream from the kiosk at Mermaids, where Rick Shores now lures a more well-heeled-and-shod crowd.
I liked ice cream then, I like bug rolls now.
There are many examples of positive progression to be found in Burleigh’s industrial area – a very different place than it was in my childhood. It’s where grassroots entrepreneurs grow, including global success stories Grace Loves Lace and HiSmile.
The laid-back Burleigh Brewing Company could be a prototype for character-affirming hospitality without the hangover of violence.
We have not nailed that balance in the hub around James St.
As night-life venues proliferate and grasp for extra hours, we risk becoming a destination that’s deserted by day and dicey by night.
Safe Night Precinct zoning that further tips the scales to an evening economy is not the answer.
Amid heartbreaking acts of senseless violence, the safety of our streets is held to ransom by a minority – locals know who these individuals are, police know who they are. Authorities need to work together to do something about it.
The most powerful move we can make is directly in our hands.
Support locally owned and operated businesses.
Big B Books is a wonderland in the arcade and Fat Chicken’s old-school burgers are better than any fast-food giant’s.
Go see Paola and the team at Stockland Nook for the Gold Coast’s best coffee (voted by me).
You can shop at Pet Barn or you can shop a few doors down at the Gold Coast Pet Centre, family owned and operated on Kortum Drive for 30 years.
Our border collie Tally (yes, named for our beautiful blue creek) recommends the $10 DIY dogwash.
Reach out to your neighbours.
Welcome new residents and visitors. People protect what they love – show them Burleigh is worth it.
To save a village, it takes a village.