Marvellous Melbourne
There is a big debate raging with fellow travelers on this side of the world—whether the person is coming from or going to Australia the question of which of Oz’s two big cities—Sydney or Melbourne—is cooler is inevitably asked. Having spent enough time in each town, albeit in the low season of the colder winter months, I can firmly, and with conviction of mind, spirit and conscience, state that Melbourne wins hands down, bitches. I think the only comparison for anyone back home would be for those who have spent some time on the west coast of California and trying to describe and pick between LA and San Francisco. LA is big and brassy, sunny and full of glitz, fake titties and fast cars. It has culture but prefers to show off its pretty side and is shameless in its defining itself on its looks over its substance. San Francisco, while blessed with as many natural wonders as LA is a bit more low key, subtle in its charms and clever in its more stylistic approach to being a major city. Sydney and Melly are the same. And with both San Fran and Melbourne, the two just have more to offer me than LA and Sydney. I pushed my ticket back FOUR times in my almost three weeks in the city, I kept trying to leave and Melbourne kept entangling me more and more with her charms—the people, the nightlife and the feel of the city is one that made such an impression that I can say it is one of my favorite cities not just in Oz, in the southern hemisphere but in the world.
Landing in Melbourne after bronzing myself on the lush beaches of Fiji was of course always going to be a bit of a shock—it was 31 degrees in Fiji when I left and pretty young things were playing in the blue green waters of the shallows in very tiny bikinis waving me goodbye. Getting into Melly I was greeted by 14-degree weather, grey skies and the moody weather that Victoria has to offer. Riding the airport shuttle into town I engaged the driver on the sporting venues his town had to offer. He told me I must go to the MCG—the Melbourne Cricket Ground—and watch his Bombers play in an AFL Aussie Rules match. His enthusiasm was infectious and my curiosity would eventually lead me to go and check out the hard-hitting world of Aussie Footy, but back to my arrival.
I got into Melbourne and went to the southern part of town to check into my hostel. A big sprawling place full of a combination of backpackers in a ratio I would find to be the same all over Oz—equal parts English, Irish and German. Guess who were my roommates? An Irishman a German and an Englishman. Weeeeeird. I don’t know if there are any young people left back in W. Europe or if they are all staggering around drinking pitchers in Australia, but I would be curious because it seems to me, especially in Ireland that it has to be nothing but old people and babies. But I’m cool with that, because as I have said before, the Irish are all right by me, those kids know how to party. I became friends with the Irishman in my room—Dave—and chilled out with him for the two nights I stayed in the place before I moved out and into what would be my home in the northern part of the city near Melbourne University, at the casa de Katie, Hugh, Juzzy and _______. How did I manage to finagle accommodations with cool folks in a cool place? Easy. I just had to go to Croatia first.
See back in June when I was messing around in Central and Eastern Europe for the summer I met two girls from Melbourne, Katie and Imogen, in the 800-year old walled city of Dubrovnik. I mentioned I would be coming thru their neck of the woods, and after going out and getting beers with them in Melbourne months later, Katie offered me a place to stay with her and her ridiculous and cool ass roomies. I accepted and it took a while and many many beers and late nights at the casino, to finally get me to get up and get the hell out of Southern Victoria and back on track in my journey through Oz. So, here are the highlights of Melbourne, minus the hung over mornings, the large scale losses at the blackjack with Juzzy, the frequent trips to Qantas Airlines to change my ticket (“Yes ma’m, one more week…again.”) and riding around the tram to and fro from the CBD to get some cheap noodles in Melly’s sweet ass Chinatown.
• The nightlife—Melbourne has without a doubt not only the coolest clubs but also some of the coolest people making up the numbers inside. And the best part? Had I not had very apt city guides I would never have known, as Melbourne’s clubs bars and nighttime hotspots are almost all completely hidden down unmarked back alleys and blank doorway entrances. Which is really a thrilling experience when you go on a pub crawl and step over trash cans in back alleys and dodge stray cats to get to a bar that looks like a 1960’s science lab complete with beakers for shot glasses and hospital gurneys in the bathrooms. One of the best house parties I ever went to was at a friend of one my roomies Hugh in South Yarra (below the river Yarra south of the center of town). It was a disco party so we arrived by cab wearing ridiculous shit and possessing a shit load of spirits and one very large and fluffy afro. I ended up in a sheepskin vest and meeting one Kate Cleary who over the next couple of weeks of hanging out taught me that all of us American’s stereo types about Aussie women—they love to drink and party and are always up for a laugh with Yankees with cool accents—were totally true, thank the lord. I didn’t push my ticket back four times because of Melbourne’s museums, although they were pretty damn cool. But I digress, back to the city’s charms.
• The people—as I have already alluded to, the folks who comprise the city of Melbourne’s population are really pretty extraordinary. It didn’t matter who I was hanging out with, my roomies, or friends of theirs, or of Kate’s or just random people on the street helping me out with directions, I didn’t meet one dick the entire time I was hanging out. Not one. And if I can just pause to expand on that, I can’t recall any dicks in the last two months of travel. Maybe people who I wouldn’t make best man at my wedding, but on the whole, the quality of people who I met traveling have all been really high. Which is great because as they say, it’s not where you are, or what you are doing, but whom you are with.
• The Food—Chinese, Indian, Aussie ( I ate kangaroo my last night and it was fucking delish) I ate very well in my time in Melbourne. Juzzy and me ate at this cool little noodle house probably half a dozen times and sat around drinking their gratis tea and discussing our previous night or our upcoming one, sometimes both. Ah, memories.
Okay. Well, I could go on and on, seeing as I am in a bus traveling all damn day to Bangkok (did I mention I am a month behind my travel writings?) but I think I will leave it for now—Melbourne I will miss you, and I will return.
Tags: Travel
