Have you ever noticed that when you're heart is broken all of a sudden the entire world is in love? Melbourne is fraught with couples hand in hand, young families glowing with familial love and senior citizens basically fornicating in public parks. Never before was I a girl who noted these things, let alone disdained them, but that all changed. With my wounds still gaping and raw from my love lost, the salt of others happy endeavors feels like grains being dropped into those war wounds one at a time. Bitter? I hope not. Dramatic? Most definitely. Sad. No Doubt. But alas, when in travel, as in in life you are expected to keep your head up, pretend those annoyances of life do not exist and march on...
After the underwear debacle in Fed Square I managed to put on my most
suitable homeless lesbian ensemble, meaning everything I own all at once, and
headed out on the town. Out on the town meant Elephant and Wheelbarrow, which
seems to be two parts English pub one part Disco.
We immediately procured two local brews and set up shop at
one of the picnic tables in their outdoor section. Between billows of cigarette
smoke we managed to chat for a bit, before meeting our male counterparts for
the evening. Rob and Liam were simply looking for an open seat, but little did
they know they had just made American friends – at least for the evening.
Rob, an Abercrobie model in the making with golden locks and
big innocent blue eyes immediately took a liking to Jackie. Liam, his brunette
and pierced companion was left to wing man it out with me. As Rob attempted to charm
the pants off of Jackie – literally – Liam recounted his tales of a recent
visit to America to me with flash and fervor. Live music was being played upstairs and we
made our way up the steep staircase to find a cover band and a sea of Aussies
rocking out to American classics. By classics I mean Blink 182 and Eagle
Eye Cherry. It was like high school all over again with a disco ball
illuminating the eager crowd.
After the boys were kicked out of the bar for some
mysterious reason we made our way down the block to yet another bar with yet
another cover band. It seems that the money for entertainment here is invested
in actual musicians as opposed to juke boxes or a dude with a laptop and
and iTunes playlist. Refreshing - gold star for Australia! We danced the night away to some untapped
female talent belting out Bruno Mars and Katy Perry as I tried my best to be
the ultimate wing woman. This role is a delicate balance as you have to be
around in case she wants you to save her and you have to make yourself scarce
in case she wants to get busy. The signs are hard to read and I did my best to
be present but not too present. It was once Rob became too inebriated and too
frustrated with his stunted progress with the 6-foot tall blonde of his desire that he chose
to confide in me about his love woes. Something about me makes people feel comfortable telling their sad tales. One of my many talents, I suppose. As we commiserated I felt incredibly old
– and incredibly human.
The night was cut short as the rain came in and we parted
ways with our boyfriends for the evening promising to meet up the following day
at St. Kilda’s Festival – a huge weekend-long music festival held in Melbourne
annually and the reason for our moves down South rather than West as we had
originally planned. The weather was perfect as Jackie caught the tram out to
the Docklands to meet a friend from her previous travels for brunch and I visited a
local craft fair where I managed to pick up a couple gifts for loved ones back
and home and ate breakfast by the river. Sitting in silence in the sun is
perhaps one of the greatest things on earth.
After managing to get a handle on the public trasport here
in Melbourne I met back up with Jackie in the late afternoon at St. Kilda. This
is basically blocks of a big street party leading to a series of stages with
free music situated right on the ocean. It is almost too good to be true. We had
arranged to meet at the Latin tent and Jackie managed to dance a couple salsas
and I managed to locate a short Hispanic man yelling out ‘Wepa’ before we
headed deeper into the belly of the beast. The blue grass tent had Quarry Mountain Dead Rats and the
main stage offered the musical talents of Ash Grunwald and Bluejuice. Jackie had yet
another friend to meet so we took the 16A tram back into the city so she could
have dinner with him and I could drive the car in circles for an hour, take a quick
cat nap and pick her up before driving back out to Docklands where
we would make our home for the night – in the frigid car alongside the ocean.
These car nights always have me up at the crack of dawn, and
with few options and nature calling – sometimes pissing in a gutter. Not my finest moment, Ill admit – especially since after the sun rose
and I went on my morning run along the water I saw a public restroom was not
but 150 meters from our car. Oh well.
Today’s task was the Great Ocean Road that provides some
great ocean and a lot of road. Thank god I was in the driver’s seat (as I have
been 99% of this trip) as we traversed the PCH of the Southern Hemisphere because I would mos
def have relived the days of my childhood trips up to Lake Tahoe, and blown chunks all over our cute little hatchback otherwise. With a couple
fantastic views of the crashing waves we landed in Apollo Bay for a zen-like nap on the beach and some overpriced noodles. Noodles were chosen because it seems the
custom in this country to close between lunch and dinner – ie the time we
usually eat our meals and the noodle house was open, so it won by default. How is it not possible that people
don’t see the money making opportunity in being available for business between the hours of 3 and 6? Or is that just the New York hustler in me? But I digress…
En route to Port Campbell, our arbitraty destination for the
evening, I managed to scare off a flock of sheep and met two cows who could
not have possibly cared less about my presence. The barnyard highlight of the day, however, was spotting the wild kangaroos the freeway. You fear
for their safety when you see them grazing along the paved roads– but it is also a reminder that you are not driving along the
coast of Central California and that in itself if thrilling.
When the sun began to hang low in the sky and the ocean became frothy
with it’s early evening tide we made our way to the 12 Apostles, a series of
large limestone formations – of which there are not 12 – that stand in the
ocean and evidently were once considered a wonder of the world. I have to admit, I can
understand why. There is no way any photos I took of the tourist attraction do
justice to the beauty of mist surrouning the bases of these mammouth tan
structures. It was awe inspiring, but the awe was quickly forgotten as some French bitch clearly looking to expand her portfolio not so politely asked me to
step aside so she could take yet another photo of herself in Gucci knock-off
shades and a red windbreaker leaning against the safety railing in front of the rocks. Tourists!
Not 30 minutes later you come upon a town called Port
Campbell which at first seems fairly underwhelming – but once you drive inside
you see it is a charming little town with cute hostels and shops and a
fantastic view of the sunset over the ocean. We feasted on peanut butter and crackers while watching the sunset and then headed back to Port Campbell Hostel to escape the increasing chill in the air and to take advantage of a lodging, at least for the evening....
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