For Rochester, N.Y., Resident, Living Near the Beach Is Oceans of Fun

I live at the beach.

I counted. I’m six small apartment buildings--that’s 14 driveways, a few shrubs and one lamppost--away from a set of stairs that takes me to the sand and sea.

Can you tell that living at the beach thrills me?

I come from Rochester, N.Y., where the summers are hot and humid and buggy, and the closest manifestation of water is a neighbor’s sprinkler or polluted Lake Ontario that my mother never allowed us to go to.

So of course, I called my mom to tell her I was living on the beach.

“Right on the beach?” she asked.

“Well, two houses away,” I said, slightly exaggerating.

My father called me the next morning.

“I heard you’re living two houses away from the beach,” he said, as I imagined him wiping the sweat from his brow on an especially muggy day on the East Coast.

“Well, it’s five small apartments away,” I said. “But I can definitely hear the waves crashing against the rocks when I go to sleep at night.”

“Oh, five houses away. I heard it was two,” he said, obviously disappointed that he couldn’t tell his friends that his daughter in California was living on the beach.

Lucky for him, I didn’t tell him it was six apartments away.

But my brother was interested in my new lifestyle.

All he likes to do when he vacations is sit around somewhere warm and jump in the waves. He can’t wait to visit. He said he has told all his work buddies that I live right on the beach with an ocean view, even though he said he knows my studio is six apartment buildings away and I can only hear the ocean, not see it.

Despite my need to tell a tale about just how close I am to the ocean, I am absolutely, positively psyched to live so close to the beach.

Each morning, I throw on my bright orange bathing suit--praying that I won’t bump into anyone I know--take a power walk up and down the sand dunes along the row of houses in Ventura’s Pierpont neighborhood and jump in the water before I head to work.

I pass early morning joggers and give them a friendly isn’t-it-great-to-live-on-the-beach “Hello.” I pass dog owners taking their pooches for a quick run on the sand.

In the evenings, I follow the same routine: Slip into the bathing suit, take a walk, then a quick dip.

At night, I pass young families with their children who create castles and dig deep holes in the sand. On the hottest days, I noticed the same young girl, maybe 7 years old, digging and digging and digging. By the time it’s dark and she has to head home, she’s dug a hole up to her waist. Her mom pulls her out. The ocean fills in her hole. And by the next evening she’s back at it again.

I also watch the surfers, who baffle me with their balance and courage. I’m learning the lingo and have talked surfing and wave conditions with some of my neighbors, but I think I’m going to leave it at that, knowing my coordination skills. Or lack thereof.

I don’t understand people who live near the ocean and don’t take advantage of the beach.

One neighbor comes home from work and just reads or watches TV in his apartment. He said he never hangs out at the beach. Never takes an early morning walk on the sand when the sun is coming up and the waves are gently lapping on shore.

I think of some people in my family, who are not beach people, would cringe at the smell of my dank wood cabinets, made slightly stinky from the moist sea air. They would be neurotic wrecks living near the shore, never being able to clean up the endless sand particles tracked into the apartment.

They also might not appreciate all my neighbors.

Almost everyone is nice.

There are schoolteachers and a computer guy who live on my street. But there are also a bunch of teens who skateboard up and down the alley, sometimes late at night.

There are homeless people, who hang out by Vons off Seaward Avenue. They push their carts full of bottles along the sidewalk and sometimes ask for a handout.

I know where I live isn’t everyone’s suburban paradise.

But I’m glad I chose to live at the beach and not on the hill, despite the Poli Street homeowners’ gorgeous view of the ocean.

They get to look at the sea. I get to swim in it every day.