I am just finishing up my last few days here in Melbourne. Had/having a fantastic time - this was a bit of a different vacation for me, more of a city break with cafes and culture - less danger one could say (I typed that line before Friday night - I wonder if I jinxed myself??)...
Shelly was busy Wednesday so that left Traci and I to venture on our own out into the great Metropolis of Melbourne. Armed with several maps and our wits we tackled the tram system. I wouldn't say that it won but we did spend a great deal of the day walking...to compensate for the confusing trams. I think Traci wanted to wander through the picturesque gardens that highlighted our guidebooks. I am thinking that those photos were taken in the spring/summer when it's warm out. Now it is chilly...and dreary. It's really hard to believe that this state has been in a drought for 15 years as it has rained almost every day that we have been here. Despite the precipitation Melbourne remains in Level 3a water restrictions, this means that you have little hourglass timers in your showers, no rinsing plates before the dishwasher (scrap
ping only), you save the water that you use to warm up the shower to water your plants etc...
The highlight of the day was actually a trip to the Melbourne Museum to see a horse. Not just any horse - a taxidermied horse named "Phar Lap". He is a hero around here. A star of horse racing from more then 50 years ago, his stuffed body is on display. What's even more astounding is little kids, whose grandparents weren't even alive when this horse ran are so excited to see him...they run up, stare in awe and then get super excited to take a photo of this dead horse. Australians are a different breed.
Oh what a find i have for anyone coming to Melbourne. It's an Italian restaurant named "Brunetti's". it is amazing, we have been there twice and would gladly squeeze another visit in if possible. It has amazing coffee, desserts too pretty to eat and scrumptious savory entrees - all served by surly Italians. The gelato is unbelievable as well. You simply must go...if you ever find yourself in Melbourne and in need of gaining 20 lbs or so.
Friday we tackle
d an iconic part of Melbourne...the Brighton Beach Bathing Boxes. These are huts or rather shacks that are painted obnoxiously bright colours and rest all in a row on Middle Brighton Beach. Rarely does one ever go up for sale; they are usually passed down in a will from generation to generation. However, one recently did go on the market...starting price $125,000. This seriously is a shed that has the square footage of a dining room table. No power, no running water, no windows. You could use it for changing into you swimsuit or maybe, I don't know, storing sandcastle making equipment so you don't have to lug it back and forth. Australians are a different breed.
We moved up the beach after that to the bohemian trendy area of St. Kilda. I am willing to bet if you close your eyes and try and imagine this upscale retro area you could conjure up a pretty similar p
icture; shops selling organic pet food, a run-down amusement park where you enter through the mouth of a giant clown and 200 cafes per block. Yep - that's St. Kilda. After a yummy lunch we all decided to split up and go our separate ways for the afternoon - plan was to meet back at Shelly's for an 1815 departure for dinner reservations. I decided to give myself a walking tour of St. Kilda and accidentally wandered into the Albert Park area. For race car fans this i
s where the Melbourne Formula 1 races are held each year, they close down certain areas of the park for the course around Albert Lake. I became the resident authority on the subject and ended up answering several questions for a group of French tourists who were wandering aimlessly around the park searching for the race track. I am not entirely certain that I gave them correct information but I figure, they're not going to know any better. Besides that I all could think about was finding a washroom while they we drilling me with questions about "turn 2" and "course length". Unfamiliar with my surroundings, I decided to return to the only clean, public washroom I knew of - back on the St. Kilda Pier (a mere 2 km or so away).
Feeling much relieved an
d yet a little tired I decided to rest with a cup of tea at the end of the pier. Well guess what lives at the end of the pier....FAIRY PENGUINS!!! Yeah!!! I was so excited. It turns out there is a small colony of these little critters that emerge from the ocean every night at dusk and waddle into their burrows in the breakwater rocks. Now here is another dilemma...dusk will mean too late to get back to Shelly's. I have no phone to let Shelly know I'll be late (and to confess I actually don't have her number). Plus she will worry. But...I would love to see penguins in the wild...hmmm you see how I was torn. As I sat pondering my options a little odd noise shrilled from behind me, a penguin!! In early I guess. I watched him in his burrow for...well lets just say a while...I think he wanted my to stay with him, I could sense a bond between us. A quick glance at my watch told me I was going to be late if I didn't get moving, so I bid farewell and took off down the pier and hopped onto tram 16. What luck I thought, tram 16 was waiting for me, that's the tram I am supposed to take home...hmmm...why is it going the wrong way...oops - trams run in both directions. No biggie I thought, I'll just hop off and get on the next number 16 in the other direction.
It seemed like such a simple plan. According to the schedule which I read 50 or so times, tram 16 comes every 10 min. I was cutting it close but I was confident that I wouldn't be late. 15 min passes, a second number 96 passes....I (armed still with my guidebook) give directions to a couple getting off the 96. More time passes, another 96 tram shows up. I guess word got around about me and I start giving more directions to fellow wayward travelers. We are now at the 30 min mark and no tram has shown up. I don't know what to do or who to call. I just keep standing there giving directions to people. I now start to fear that I will be known as that crazy girl with the messed up accent standing at stop number 103 waiting for tram 16 that everyone but her seems to know will never come. I'm afraid to leave, what if the tram comes? It's now dark (so any extra downer is that the penguins were just a 10 min walk away from me waddling up onto the beach - they are now tucked away in their burrows) and I have no idea what I am going to do - so I (as anyone who knows me or has even met me knows) work myself into a panic of epic proportions. I start making contingency plans for the worst case
scenarios; plans to sleep in the bushes, survive on the 1/2 a box of smarties in my bag...and then, like a bright light from above, 41 min late, TRAM 16 shows up.
I know what you’re thinking...finally a happy ending. But no - not yet. So I toss the driver an annoyed glare and take my seat on the infamous number 16. Now I have to tell you a little bit about the tram system here in Melbourne. It is very extensive, they usually come every 5 - 10 min or so, allegedly, and the stops are every 50 m (approx 100 feet or so). You simply push a button when it's your stop; if you miss your stop not a big deal you could get off at the next one and walk back in about 1 - 2 min. There are about 100 stops between where I got on and where Shelly lives, obviously the more the tram stops the longer the journey takes. No tram in the history of trams has ever stopped at all stops...until that night. Did you ever see that episode of Seinfeld where Elaine is on the subway and there is an internal running dialogue of her thoughts?? That was me on this f#%)$*ng tram. It would have been funny if I wasn't freaking out the whole time about being late. One guy got on and then rode it 1 stop and got off. 2 kyphotic old men with canes, slowly got on, sat down and rode it for 2 stops. Just after they got off I glanced out my window as our sadistic tram driver moved along at 1 mph and saw, I am not making this up, the two hunched over old men moving faster then the tram across the road. Then we stopped. I have no idea why. We just sat there; Australians are too polite to question anything. (Say what you want about Americans - that tram would have been overturned and set on fire by now). After 8 min or so we started up again. Stopped 4 more times and then oh my, shift change. A new tram driver gets on, does a safety check or something and then we're off - for another 100 feet or so.
After a large portion of my life we reach the end of the line (literally and metaphorically here) and I dart off - well not really because first I had to help and old man lift his shopping trolley off the tram. But after that I am away, running as swiftly as I can - only 8 short blocks to go, 2 major streets to cross and I am only 15 min or so late. I must have been a site, huffing and puffing down the street, like a giant maraca - because of the 1/2 box of smarties and a pocketful of shells in my coat. Then I see the last turn to make, road to cross. I am feeling a little better, still anxious because I am so late but excited to see the end in site. I glance across the road then sprint across like a gazelle/moose. Guess what...Australians drive on the left. I didn't even see it coming. One minute I was running like a strong breeze, next I was on the hood of a Volvo.
The next few minutes were all a blur. I remember the driver apologizing profusely for whacking me with his shiny car. I was apologizing profusely for scratching the hell out of the paint on his shiny car. He offered to drive me to the hospital or my destination. I was still so flustered that all I could think was I have to go!! I assure him I am fine and take off. He just stood there stunned, staring at me.
So I made it back to Shelly's (who of course was very understanding and not at all upset that I was late - she was just worried) changed and then headed to the city for Melbourne's own little Italy, Lygon St. Here we met Shelly's loud and hilarious brother, on vacation from Queensland, ate pasta and drank wine. I drank extra wine.
Our final day in Melbourne was spent with a fine tradition - taking in a game of footy at the cricket stadium. Watching Australians enjoy the sport is as much fun as the game. We were cheering for the St. Kilda Saints - all decked out in our red/white/black scarves as they took on the North Melbourne Kangaro
os. Footy, or Australian rules, is a sport that you simply have to see to believe. I am amazed that there aren’t casualties at the end of it all. I remember asking a local last year about the pads - they tackle each other hard and frequently. He looked at me and said "ah they're not Americans, they're men". Australians are a different breed.
A security gu
ard came to our section at one point because a member of a bachelor party was getting a little rowdy - the security officer asked the man to join him on the steps. They had a little chat and then the guy returned to his group; so civilized. The opposing fans tease each other and then acknowledge a good play by their rivals. The opposing fans shake hands/high five at the end of the game. I saw tea bags as litter. Australians are a different breed.
Well despite all my rambling I have only covered a small portion of what I had the chance to see/experience in this amazing country. Thank you for reading (I wonder how many of you actually made it to the end???). I am off to bed to prepare for my 3286 hr flight home - it's one of those weird things where I land before I ever take off - it will surely mess with my mind. If it's anything good, I'll call and tell you what the future holds...
Take care all and special thanks to Shelly, Traci, Chris, Martin and Jason for an awesome time.
Shelly was busy Wednesday so that left Traci and I to venture on our own out into the great Metropolis of Melbourne. Armed with several maps and our wits we tackled the tram system. I wouldn't say that it won but we did spend a great deal of the day walking...to compensate for the confusing trams. I think Traci wanted to wander through the picturesque gardens that highlighted our guidebooks. I am thinking that those photos were taken in the spring/summer when it's warm out. Now it is chilly...and dreary. It's really hard to believe that this state has been in a drought for 15 years as it has rained almost every day that we have been here. Despite the precipitation Melbourne remains in Level 3a water restrictions, this means that you have little hourglass timers in your showers, no rinsing plates before the dishwasher (scrap
ping only), you save the water that you use to warm up the shower to water your plants etc...The highlight of the day was actually a trip to the Melbourne Museum to see a horse. Not just any horse - a taxidermied horse named "Phar Lap". He is a hero around here. A star of horse racing from more then 50 years ago, his stuffed body is on display. What's even more astounding is little kids, whose grandparents weren't even alive when this horse ran are so excited to see him...they run up, stare in awe and then get super excited to take a photo of this dead horse. Australians are a different breed.
Oh what a find i have for anyone coming to Melbourne. It's an Italian restaurant named "Brunetti's". it is amazing, we have been there twice and would gladly squeeze another visit in if possible. It has amazing coffee, desserts too pretty to eat and scrumptious savory entrees - all served by surly Italians. The gelato is unbelievable as well. You simply must go...if you ever find yourself in Melbourne and in need of gaining 20 lbs or so.
Friday we tackle
d an iconic part of Melbourne...the Brighton Beach Bathing Boxes. These are huts or rather shacks that are painted obnoxiously bright colours and rest all in a row on Middle Brighton Beach. Rarely does one ever go up for sale; they are usually passed down in a will from generation to generation. However, one recently did go on the market...starting price $125,000. This seriously is a shed that has the square footage of a dining room table. No power, no running water, no windows. You could use it for changing into you swimsuit or maybe, I don't know, storing sandcastle making equipment so you don't have to lug it back and forth. Australians are a different breed.We moved up the beach after that to the bohemian trendy area of St. Kilda. I am willing to bet if you close your eyes and try and imagine this upscale retro area you could conjure up a pretty similar p
icture; shops selling organic pet food, a run-down amusement park where you enter through the mouth of a giant clown and 200 cafes per block. Yep - that's St. Kilda. After a yummy lunch we all decided to split up and go our separate ways for the afternoon - plan was to meet back at Shelly's for an 1815 departure for dinner reservations. I decided to give myself a walking tour of St. Kilda and accidentally wandered into the Albert Park area. For race car fans this i
s where the Melbourne Formula 1 races are held each year, they close down certain areas of the park for the course around Albert Lake. I became the resident authority on the subject and ended up answering several questions for a group of French tourists who were wandering aimlessly around the park searching for the race track. I am not entirely certain that I gave them correct information but I figure, they're not going to know any better. Besides that I all could think about was finding a washroom while they we drilling me with questions about "turn 2" and "course length". Unfamiliar with my surroundings, I decided to return to the only clean, public washroom I knew of - back on the St. Kilda Pier (a mere 2 km or so away).Feeling much relieved an
d yet a little tired I decided to rest with a cup of tea at the end of the pier. Well guess what lives at the end of the pier....FAIRY PENGUINS!!! Yeah!!! I was so excited. It turns out there is a small colony of these little critters that emerge from the ocean every night at dusk and waddle into their burrows in the breakwater rocks. Now here is another dilemma...dusk will mean too late to get back to Shelly's. I have no phone to let Shelly know I'll be late (and to confess I actually don't have her number). Plus she will worry. But...I would love to see penguins in the wild...hmmm you see how I was torn. As I sat pondering my options a little odd noise shrilled from behind me, a penguin!! In early I guess. I watched him in his burrow for...well lets just say a while...I think he wanted my to stay with him, I could sense a bond between us. A quick glance at my watch told me I was going to be late if I didn't get moving, so I bid farewell and took off down the pier and hopped onto tram 16. What luck I thought, tram 16 was waiting for me, that's the tram I am supposed to take home...hmmm...why is it going the wrong way...oops - trams run in both directions. No biggie I thought, I'll just hop off and get on the next number 16 in the other direction.It seemed like such a simple plan. According to the schedule which I read 50 or so times, tram 16 comes every 10 min. I was cutting it close but I was confident that I wouldn't be late. 15 min passes, a second number 96 passes....I (armed still with my guidebook) give directions to a couple getting off the 96. More time passes, another 96 tram shows up. I guess word got around about me and I start giving more directions to fellow wayward travelers. We are now at the 30 min mark and no tram has shown up. I don't know what to do or who to call. I just keep standing there giving directions to people. I now start to fear that I will be known as that crazy girl with the messed up accent standing at stop number 103 waiting for tram 16 that everyone but her seems to know will never come. I'm afraid to leave, what if the tram comes? It's now dark (so any extra downer is that the penguins were just a 10 min walk away from me waddling up onto the beach - they are now tucked away in their burrows) and I have no idea what I am going to do - so I (as anyone who knows me or has even met me knows) work myself into a panic of epic proportions. I start making contingency plans for the worst case
scenarios; plans to sleep in the bushes, survive on the 1/2 a box of smarties in my bag...and then, like a bright light from above, 41 min late, TRAM 16 shows up.I know what you’re thinking...finally a happy ending. But no - not yet. So I toss the driver an annoyed glare and take my seat on the infamous number 16. Now I have to tell you a little bit about the tram system here in Melbourne. It is very extensive, they usually come every 5 - 10 min or so, allegedly, and the stops are every 50 m (approx 100 feet or so). You simply push a button when it's your stop; if you miss your stop not a big deal you could get off at the next one and walk back in about 1 - 2 min. There are about 100 stops between where I got on and where Shelly lives, obviously the more the tram stops the longer the journey takes. No tram in the history of trams has ever stopped at all stops...until that night. Did you ever see that episode of Seinfeld where Elaine is on the subway and there is an internal running dialogue of her thoughts?? That was me on this f#%)$*ng tram. It would have been funny if I wasn't freaking out the whole time about being late. One guy got on and then rode it 1 stop and got off. 2 kyphotic old men with canes, slowly got on, sat down and rode it for 2 stops. Just after they got off I glanced out my window as our sadistic tram driver moved along at 1 mph and saw, I am not making this up, the two hunched over old men moving faster then the tram across the road. Then we stopped. I have no idea why. We just sat there; Australians are too polite to question anything. (Say what you want about Americans - that tram would have been overturned and set on fire by now). After 8 min or so we started up again. Stopped 4 more times and then oh my, shift change. A new tram driver gets on, does a safety check or something and then we're off - for another 100 feet or so.
After a large portion of my life we reach the end of the line (literally and metaphorically here) and I dart off - well not really because first I had to help and old man lift his shopping trolley off the tram. But after that I am away, running as swiftly as I can - only 8 short blocks to go, 2 major streets to cross and I am only 15 min or so late. I must have been a site, huffing and puffing down the street, like a giant maraca - because of the 1/2 box of smarties and a pocketful of shells in my coat. Then I see the last turn to make, road to cross. I am feeling a little better, still anxious because I am so late but excited to see the end in site. I glance across the road then sprint across like a gazelle/moose. Guess what...Australians drive on the left. I didn't even see it coming. One minute I was running like a strong breeze, next I was on the hood of a Volvo.
The next few minutes were all a blur. I remember the driver apologizing profusely for whacking me with his shiny car. I was apologizing profusely for scratching the hell out of the paint on his shiny car. He offered to drive me to the hospital or my destination. I was still so flustered that all I could think was I have to go!! I assure him I am fine and take off. He just stood there stunned, staring at me.
So I made it back to Shelly's (who of course was very understanding and not at all upset that I was late - she was just worried) changed and then headed to the city for Melbourne's own little Italy, Lygon St. Here we met Shelly's loud and hilarious brother, on vacation from Queensland, ate pasta and drank wine. I drank extra wine.
Our final day in Melbourne was spent with a fine tradition - taking in a game of footy at the cricket stadium. Watching Australians enjoy the sport is as much fun as the game. We were cheering for the St. Kilda Saints - all decked out in our red/white/black scarves as they took on the North Melbourne Kangaro
os. Footy, or Australian rules, is a sport that you simply have to see to believe. I am amazed that there aren’t casualties at the end of it all. I remember asking a local last year about the pads - they tackle each other hard and frequently. He looked at me and said "ah they're not Americans, they're men". Australians are a different breed.A security gu
ard came to our section at one point because a member of a bachelor party was getting a little rowdy - the security officer asked the man to join him on the steps. They had a little chat and then the guy returned to his group; so civilized. The opposing fans tease each other and then acknowledge a good play by their rivals. The opposing fans shake hands/high five at the end of the game. I saw tea bags as litter. Australians are a different breed.Well despite all my rambling I have only covered a small portion of what I had the chance to see/experience in this amazing country. Thank you for reading (I wonder how many of you actually made it to the end???). I am off to bed to prepare for my 3286 hr flight home - it's one of those weird things where I land before I ever take off - it will surely mess with my mind. If it's anything good, I'll call and tell you what the future holds...
Take care all and special thanks to Shelly, Traci, Chris, Martin and Jason for an awesome time.
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