Gdynia is an industrial port town that happens also to be a beach community. During Communist times, I suppose there were guards posted in the life-guard towers instead of lifeguards, ready to shoot any bathers crossing the red bouys as they swim to freedom across the Baltic Sea to Sweden.
Asia assures me this was not the case.
Our two weeks in Gdynia were basted in sunshine and high temps, which brought out both holiday-makers and suburban Gdyniaks down for a day of sunning, bathing, partying, and peeing in the salted sea.
AsiaMark decided to sea-bathe at the end of the day, when the heat had been shorn by sea breezes and the sea had warmed up under the sun’s hellish rays.
Meanwhile, the beach seen is quite fun: lots of people hanging out,
great little beach bars with umbrella-covered seats,
a beach volleyball tournament underway,
and a promenade stretching one-or-so kilometers along the coast.
One afternoon when the weather had cooled, we took a picnic to the shore and found a shady-ish spot on the grass (sand and running brats don’t do well for beach-picnics).
We took lots of pictures and then walked the promenade. Fun, fun, fun.
Asia improvised without a spoon to eat her cottage cheese.
Asia sported her new hair during one bathing day.
Mark played in the surf like a distressed sea lion.
By the end of the day, a pair of Little Fox paws were doing a dance of happiness …