With our hostel located on Flinders, we had prime access to all of the hotspots. All of the hotspots we could not afford. That being said, we had seen a poster for Motown Thursdays a few blocks up from us and decided after checking into our swank suite that we would clean up a bit and head out there. As I rolled into Melbourne I was full of energy and ready for what this new city had to offer. As the hours passed I became increasingly sleepy and had to drag my ass out to da club.
Last summer (in North America) I had the opportunity to
shoot something for Nike at which I met some amazing people from all over the
globe. When I knew for certain that I would be coming to Oz, I got in touch
with the man I had met from Melbourne. This means I know exactly 1 person in
all of Australia. So what are the chances of, not 10 minutes after stepping out
of Greenhouse Backpackers hostel and hitting the streets did I spot someone who
looked suspiciously familiar dining at a local restaurant. I backtracked, and
lo and behold – it was Andy. We chatted with he and his
wife and dinner companions and promised to get in contact again in the next
couple of days, while we are still here.
My head still dizzy from the strange coincidence and we made
our way to Motown, only to discover we couldn’t figure out where it was. Or how
to get in. Or what was going on. Upon closer inspection it appeared to be an
office building. Confused and dismayed we wandered – a task at which I am a
black belt now. The weather was comfortable and the city was enchanting. It
made me excited to see it in the daylight.
Well, the daylight diminished the enchanting part, but the
perfect Friday weather and readily available public art and diverse population
set the ideal backdrop for some more wandering. Free brekky at the hostel
consumed with fervor and and we were out the door – in canvassed foot to drop
off some more postcards US bound and head to Queen Victoria’s Market where any
number of cheeses, fruit or pies can be sampled. Having seen the Australian
penchant for pie Jacks and I had agreed to sample the local fare and were not
disappointed when trying the Thai Chicken Pie at the market. It was the only
pie with no cheese or cream (per my request) and although it was a little ‘saucy’
for me I had a couple bites, and I would potentially have a couple more.
The market also offered any number of unnecessary
knickknacks located at most of the markets located across the globe. Phone chargers,
kitchenware, Australian beach towels and bras only your obese grandmother would be in need of lined rows of stalls as far as the eye could see.
I am not sure why, but I seem to have been particularly
exhausted on this trip – perhaps the emotional turmoil carried over from home
exacerbates as you cross time zones. With not a cloud in the sky we stopped for
a rest in Flagstaff park before a long walk over to the supposedly hip neighborhood of Kinsey.
Exhausted from the sun, the walking and the lack of proper
nutrition I ended up at the hostel getting my Wifi fix. Man, I am old.
When Jackie came back to meet me, Anzac Biscuits in hand, she wavered back and forth
between whether or not tonight should be a dine out or dine in evening.
Functioning on a tight budget in what has to be the most expensive place on the
planet has made editing essential. This means from time to time food and
lodging simply don’t make the cut. Finally, she decided we could rally, run a
brush through our respective heads of hair and makes moves to DeGraves street,
located not far from our hostel and known for its outdoor eateries and lively
social scene. We decided on a bustling Italian restaurant based largely on
budget and, although I knew better than to eat Italian food down here, I
purchased and consumed yet another unsatisfactory meal. Luckily, this time the
atmosphere made it all worthwhile.
As a visual artist, people watching is one of my favorite
activities – especially when traveling. We were seated next to a junior Aussie
version of Sex And The City ready to rock the town, eventhough I am almost
they were old enough to order a cosmo. I found their awkward style and
cherubic faces slathered in makeup to be endearing and although there was not a
wrinkle or grey hair at their 4 top – I did not envy their exposed bra straps and precarious
heel posture one bit. It was while situated in this busy marketplace that I
came to the conclusion that down here granny panties are all the rage and
whether you’re rocking Dockers or Herve Leger – a visible panty line is A-ok.
Well, my uptight American ass disagrees and would like to impart some wisdom to
the women of Oz – buy a thong; purchase some shape wear; have a girlfriend look
at your ass in your clubbing dress before heading out to pain the town red. I
mean, its just simple logic…
Some late night strolling took place and some Australian
magazine racks were perused before heading back to our new bunk on the 3rd
floor that smells of sweat socks, stale food and Axe body spray. It almost made me long for the days at San Francisco State University where dorm life allowed me to live most of my life in pajamas.
The next morning was a running morning for me and I did so
along the river and over to Southbank. I was privelaged enough to watch the
early morning rowers and feel the early morning rays beaming down upon me. The
quiet and solitutde of running makes it such an ideal sport for both body and
mind, and when immersed in beautiful scenery you cannot go wrong.
After reconnecting with my travel companion, we decided to
once again cross over to Southbank, grab some breakfast and head to one of the
free museums we’d read about. Being a part of the Pacific Rim, it seems that
all things Asian are big in Australia as well, and this in no way excluds
Chinese New Year, a celebration for which Jackie and I found ourselves immersed in. Having regretted eating my low fat muffin when I saw the fried
delicacies featured at the festival, I persevered and we moved on to a Travel Expo located in the
Exhibition Center where we received free tote bags and the allure of more
untapped countries.
Finally ,we made it to ACCA – the Australian Center for
Contemporary Art – where ‘Desire Lines’ was currently showing. This exhibition
consisted largely of quirky video installations. There was a pleasant trans in their strange
monotony – but, in my humble opinion, they were art only a mother could love.
Over to Queen Victoria Botanic Gardens for another break in the shade and some light
coversation about religion, love and the meaning of life and we were on our way
to yet another museum - NVA. The National Gallery of Victoria is a large imposing
building that in itself is worth a visit. The architecture – as it is in much
of Melbourne – is both striking and beautiful and after checking out the costume
exhibit of ballet costumes and swinging by the café, where lone apples could be
purchased for a mere $2.50 – we were back across the river to Greenhouse
Backpackers to make a homeless dinner of scrambled eggs, red peppers and boiled
sweet potatoes.Yum!
Dinner was surprisingly satisfying it was a quick turnaround back out into the world and
into Fed Square – where free wifi is promised and not in any way shape or form
delivered. Luckily we were provided entertainment from the locals as Jackie and
I scoped out two prime deck chairs in the middle of the expansive square and made our
way over to recline. It was in mid recline that a woman, likely in her late 40s or early 50s literally asked
me if I was wearing underwear. I will admit I wore a dress that is perhaps too
short for my advancing age, but my legs are still on point and it was easy to pack so I didn't pay it much mind. I
had even gone so far as to do as the natives do and wear full-assed underwear as to
spare any passerby from having to come face to face with my lady bits. This was
not enough for the woman. I, seated, lifted up the side of my dress to show
her my purple chonies. Still not enough – I stood, lifted my dress and pulled my underwear
down to an acceptable cheek level for this balsy Aussie. Appeased, she relaxed and seemed
content with the now placement of my undergarment. I am uncertain as to whether it was
her brazen question or my full rear nudity in public that was more distasteful
or offensive. I’ll let you be the judge.
Who knows what else this night will entail...
No comments:
Post a Comment