Everyone is lying to you about the beach

Just because your Instagram feed is currently overflowing with sun-drenched selfies taken from sandy locations doesn’t mean anyone is actually enjoying themselves, writes Darren Levin.

Why do we go to the beach?

Why do we invest so much precious free time sitting in a giant sandbox or taking a dip in the world’s worst infinity pool where we could die from any number of things: box jellyfish, rips, both gummy and gumless sharks, razor clams, embarrassment if we somehow end up getting resuscitated on Bondi Rescue.

I just came back from a family holiday on the Gold Coast where, mercifully, we spent more time revisiting ‘90s relics like Timezone and Hard Rock Cafe than we did at the beach. Which is just a fancy way of saying we went to the beach a total of zero times. And you know what? I don’t regret it.

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You may think I’m denying my children a rite of passage that’s as important to their development as their first can of Pasito or Hottest 100 Countdown. But how will we ever truly progress as a nation if we’re too afraid to admit that the beach is actually a massive slog?

The Prime Minister of Australia — I won’t mention his name because I still want this to be relevant next summer — recently announced some fairly rigid changes to citizenship ceremonies. Will that involve pledging our love to the beach in a pair of photoshopped thongs while a band blares ‘It’s A Long Way To The Top’ on a set of bagpipes?

Sorry Australia, but there are much better places to spend time than the beach. Picture: supplied

Does he expect new citizens to be able to nurse a chlamydia-stricken koala back to good health as well? Or maybe pick out the Southern Cross from a line-up of five shirtless tradies, like a Where’s Wally puzzle with the added bonus of a lifetime pass to the Lucky Country? I honestly wouldn’t put it past him.

If you were to lay me out on a banana lounge and ask invasive questions about my childhood it’d probably emerge that I’ve always hated the beach.

Back in my day, my parents would do what ordinary parents do on holidays. We’d set off nice and early, stake out a spot that wouldn’t get subsumed by the tide, pack four litres of lukewarm home brand soft drink and a lunch consisting of tuna sarnies and Samboy chips, and basted ourselves in a coconut-scented oil until we smelled like three steaming bowls of Jewish laksa.

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Is this experience supposed to be pleasurable? Maybe it’s just something us Aussies unconsciously do — like sitting through five days of a sporting match with the very real possibility of a non-result, or eating chicken schnitzel with half a pizza on top? Perhaps the beach is just coded into our DNA like the lyrics of Moving Pictures’ ’What About Me?’ as sung by Shannon Noll.

Nature’s sandbox is not a fun place for everyone. Picture: supplied

Once you block all the potential safety hazards out of your mind, I’ll concede there’s something truly revivifying about a dip in the ocean. And it’s something I’d consider more often if it didn’t involve negotiating my way through a literal beach’s worth of sand.

Sand is like a beige version of glitter, stripped of all the colour and absolutely bereft of any fun.

Kids are the only people that actually like sand, and would you really trust your kids’ opinion on anything? Given the option they’d gladly spend an entire day watching creepy adults re-enact Peppa Pig videos on YouTube, so they really have a poor gauge on what constitutes an actual good time.

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If I had my way, we’d never have to endure an afternoon of hand-picking sand out of their hair, the dog’s hair, the carseats, the couch, their toys, the tiny crevices where only sand and light can enter ever again.

Australia, it’s time we start acknowledging our true feelings about the beach. It sucks.

Darren Levin is a columnist for RendezView.com.au. Follow him on Instagram and Twitter.