I Want to Go To a Holiday Park

In the middle of the night, or this morning, I woke up totally in the mood to stay at a holiday park in Australia.

And I was longing for the most stupid thing—sitting by a pool that's too cold, trying to build up the courage to go in.

It's not just that, though, because we actually have our own too-cold pool in our backyard.

I just loved that relaxing aimless feeling.

I like walking on the beach, and even walking to the beach. At the Seven Mile Beach Holiday Park in Gerroa, we had to walk through a cute little forest. A father told us he and his child nicknamed it the Hundred Acre Woods (Winnie the Pooh thing). I thought that was very sweet.

I liked going to the little shop/office and seeing the Australian food.

I liked meeting people with lovely Aussie accents.

I sort of regret not staying at a holiday park on our last trip to Australia. And we didn't go to the beach. We went to Halls Gap in the Grampians and stayed in a cottage. That was really nice though too.

But we go back to Australia, I want to stay in some holiday parks. And I want to stay near some beaches, even if we're advised not to go in because of blue bottles.

Usually I'm okay with the fact that it's probably going to be eight or more years before we step foot into Australia again. But right now I'm wishing we were going there tomorrow.   

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