It was some day between Christmas and New Year. The weather was good. I don’t know exactly how hot, but it felt like a real summer’s day. And so, I was lucky to be at Phillip Island. Today I found myself at Cape Woolamai. I’d never been to Woolamai, but heard of it many a time. A surfer’s beach, I was told. I reckoned it must be like my other favourite, Cemetery Beach, Kilcunda. Too rough for plain swimming. That was okay because we were headed for the sand dunes where the kids could slide down the dunes on their boogie boards, and game adults would follow. We sure did that, then headed back to the carpark. But before we jumped into the car, we thought we’d grab a bite to eat – after all, it was well past lunch time.
From the carpark, we glimpsed a sign that said “Kiosk” so headed that way. As we approached the wooden walkway, bordered by two small dunes covered in grass, a path of sand led to Woolamai beach. Looking out at that beach, a sense of awe mounted in me as the power of the ocean manifested itself as waves crashing rhythmically on the shore. What a sight, and when close enough, what a sound.
Walking up the wooden walkway was reminiscent of a boardwalk in keeping with the theme. Finally at the top was the kiosk. Understated, it was in the style of a corner milk bar – you know the one every kid used to conveniently go past on their way back home from school. There were a few wooden tables and benches. The wood seemed new, but old all at once, likely rapidly weathered being so exposed.
On getting to the counter over a small window, it started to emerge that there weren’t many workers. The kiosk was a close-knit affair. Yet looking at the menu – not bad! Sticking to the program, we ordered the basics – sausage rolls, chips and milk shakes all round. And of course, a coffee for dad and a hot chocolate for Toby – his favourite. It was busy at the kiosk; indeed this was the holiday season. The lady at the kiosk, kindly as ever took our order and suggested we take a seat on the bench whilst it was being prepared. Fair enough, so we did.
Most of my family took a seat. I walked over to the side of the deck, rested my arms on the railings and stared out to the ocean, my eldest son by my side. We watched for a moment, observing the surfers. “Gideon”, I said to him, “You could learn to surf.” He kept looking out. To our right I noticed another family, sitting at a bench. They looked either Indian or Sri Lankan. A mix of generations, they sat, peacefully, also waiting for their kiosk meal. The wind blew ever so gently.
At the point of the clearing between the dunes, I saw many a surfer come and go. Hair sometimes long, skin always tanned. I wasn’t sure whether they were locals or not, but at least some of them would likely be. I wonder what it’s like being a true surfer? All those hours in the water. I loved the water too. Always drawn to the sea, I could spend hours at the beach.
I walked back to the table where the rest of my family was. They were still waiting for their meal. Soon after that, the lady at the kiosk let us know it was ready and I went up to collect it. Chips, sausage rolls, drinks… voila. We began to eat. I shared mainly with the kids. Nibbling really. It’s always nice to see them relish things. So much gusto. The sausage rolls were chunky and delicious. The milk shakes flavoursome and my coffee hit the spot.
People kept coming to the kiosk, it was busy. Somehow that little team chugged things out, like the little steam train that thought it could. I watched as a couple walked up. A bearded man and woman with quite a few tattoos. She had a Led Zeppelin T shirt on. As they spoke to each other, I picked up that they had a South American accent. That’s far from Woolamai.
By this stage, my family was well into their feed and the sausage rolls in particular were going down a treat. Somehow though, I didn’t see Toby at the table. He was instead up at the corner of the deck, where I had originally been, talking to another boy who looked about his age. They suddenly looked like old friends. Don’t you love how kids can do that? The boys’ mum and dad were sitting close by. His dad had a beard and had a wide brimmed hat on. His mother looked Asian and had a hat too. I looked over again at my table. There was my own wife, who’s half Chinese Malaysian and half English. I looked at my own kids who were officially “Pench” – Portuguese, English, Nepalese and Chinese. They could be “Penchi”, the I being for Indian, but we’ve recently been told that despite my family being born in India, we probably don’t have any real Indian heritage. They sat with their cousins who are as much mixed with different ingredients, a bit of Irish thrown in, to be sure! It’s a big world and we were happy to now be sitting there all together, at that Kiosk in Woolamai as “Aussies”.
Soon enough our table started to disperse, indeed the sausage rolls and chips were down to crumbs. My other son, Jonah, had moved on to sit on the sand, rather sprawled in quiet contemplation, captivated by the grains – a natural reductionist. By this stage some of the kids had moved on to the beach, to have a look. I walked down the stairs to throw away some rubbish and as I did I heard a little girl proclaim to her parents “I don’t like walking in the sand”, as they headed to the carpark. “Had her holiday just begun or ended?” I wondered.
In the meantime, people kept coming and going, seemingly from up the road and around the world – to that kiosk at Woolamai. I peered a bit more deeply at the sign. “Magiclands Kiosk”. Humble, welcoming, unpretentious, generous in their servings and surrounded by simple rugged Australian beauty. Visiting Magiclands Kiosk was an unexpectedly gripping experience that heightened my awareness. The ordinary suddenly emerged as the extraordinary. I was sitting in the middle of the world, was alive and attuned, surrounded by nature and the feeling was indeed magic.
Magiclands Kiosk, 288 Woolamai Beach Road, Cape Woolamai, Victoria, 3925.
Dr Floyd Gomes
General Practitioner & Managing Director
