Melbourne, where have you been all my life?
Just having arrived in Melbourne on a Thursday evening at
rush hour and Jackie and I are already glad to be here. It was
constant travel along the South Eastern coast of Australia the past couple of
days and it feels like we have finally reached our destination.
Having left Sydney several days before, we have hit up
sleepy beach towns, dined at Hungry Jacks and been in a constant quest for the
internet. Needless to say, our days have been full.
Rising at City Resort Hostel in Sydney on Tuesday morning I
opted to take care of business and check us out, while Jackie went to the
Indian Bikram School for Yoga where she and I had purchased week long passes
for the bargain rate of $17 the day before and taken a class from a woman with 0%
body fat. I know my sister says you can never be to skinny – but in this case I
think even she would disagree.
Taking care of the logistics of our departure was not a
problem. I had a lengthy FaceTime call with my father – who managed to figure
out how to use the new wave technology all on his own and headed out to our
Holden hatchback. Strange – the automatic lock device didn’t work. No biggie. Weird – when I turn the key in the ignition – and not R Kelly style
– the engine doesn’t turn over. After a quick assessment of the vehicle it
appears that the overhead light had been left on days before, resulting in a
dead battery. Now, I wish I could blame this heinous act on my trusty travel mate – but I am afraid it was my infraction. A quick call to half of the
Australian rental car community and a mechanic was there in a jiffy with a
quick jump and foreboding words about tourists dying at Ayers Rock and
dangerous Aboriginal neighborhoods. I am starting to think this whole country
is racist – but in that seemingly acceptable ‘I have a black friend’ way.
Offended. Moving on.
Jackie retrieved and car in working order we were on the way
South. First thing was first – we
were on the hunt for Hungry Jack’s. Part of what I love about traveling is
eating the shit food that particular country has to offer. Having a
special guilty pleasure place in my heart for America’s Burger King – the sight of
the familiar bun sandwiched around letters spelling Hungry Jack’s was calling
to me. About an hour out of the city HJ’s was sampled and despite the fact that
portion sizes were decidedly smaller than back in the US of Cellulite, it
tasted just like home.
Making note of the now beautiful weather – of course as we
were trapped within the four doors of the car – we decided that a beach break
was also in order. This took place in the shape of Surf Beach at Nowra. An
isolated little beach situated directly behind an elementary school and flanked
with pines, resembling the beaches of Lake Tahoe in Northern California, this
was the ideal siesta. After a quick stop for petrol at a station with an
attendant at least 200 years old and nearly indecipherable – we hit the road,
slightly more relaxed and most certainly sandier.
We knew there were a number of little towns along the way
down to Melbourne in which we were bound to take respite. Hours in the car with
nothing but Australian talk radio, which seems a bit redundant, as all they
seem to do is talk – play a song or two – and then talk for hours more, allowed
for plenty of watching of passing scenery and eating of marginally healthy
snacks.
With a couple of false alarms on where to stay for the night
we spotted a YHA flier for Merimbula, detailing it’s pristine beaches and water
activities alongside a $24 a night price tag so we were sold. Another hour down
the road and we pulled into the one street town and over the bridge to
Merimbula YHA. The grandfatherly proprietor did not charge the advertised price
and made us make our own beds, but the room was clean and the showers were hot.
With the sun long ago set and the town fast asleep, we were as well.
The following morning we woke to clear skies and chirping
birds (they never seem to shut up here) and I partook in one of my favorite
foreign activities – a morning run. Around the glistening lake and up what can
only be deemed main street I felt quiet and, at least for a moment, at peace. I
also made note of the local Macca’s (McDonald’s to us in what I believe is
every other country) which seems to be the only place with WiFi in Australia.
Macca’s would be a mainstay in our trip and a great source of our frustration
as the connection is so poor 99% of the time its almost wiser to commission
carrier pigeon. Jackie fell in love with a little shop located just across the
street called Booktique where a helpful salesmen explained some theory about a faulty infrastructure across the country being worked on to better serve the
community in need of internet – meaning everyone! Unfortunately, I don’t see
these improvements being made in the next couple of weeks while we are still
here.
After replacing a forgotten adaptor and purchasing what can
be my only trip regalo, we were out of town looking and en route to Lake’s Entrance,
located about 4 hours south and, according to the same book salesman, the last
real stop for civilization before Melbourne. Thickly wooded curvy roads carried
us past a plethora of road kill and through small, sparsely populated towns.
According to our faithful servant, the Lonely Planet: Australia, Lake’s
Entrance is a happening little holiday destination. Here, I would like to make an amendment. It does have cute little stores and coffee shops and you can find
signs of life – between the hours of 11 and 4. Having taken another beach break - we arrived as the sun hung low
in the sky and closed signs lined the esplanade. Luckily Ferryman’s – the local
hot spot located on a floating dock stayed open ‘until people left’ and we were
able to dine on truffles and cake while enjoying our pots of tea as the sun
turned the sky all of the colors found in a bag of Skittles.
It was just a short hop, skip and a jump to our accommodations
for the night – the car parked directly in front of the restaurant. I had a
Skype meeting the next morning and the fancy hotel across the street provided a
decent signal – so we located ourselves adjacent to it and curled up for the
night. Jackie cloaked in her sleep sack and me in my contraband Qantas blanket.
The longshoreman setting out for the day woke us, followed by those damn
chirping birds and I headed into the hotel for business in a button down and bootie shorts, as Jackie wandered the
waking streets. We had scoped out the town the day prior and deemed,Miriam’s charming antique shops and Target Country as must-dos. We also revisited the long strip of beach just outside of the town’s
center that looks like Long Island but feels a million miles away, with few
people and blue waters as far as the eye can see. A couple of hours in the sun listening to waves and searching for the perfect seashell were thoroughly enjoyed before
once again bidding adieu to a town, we were heading to a city: Melbourne.
Everyone seems to think this is the best city in Australia
and at first glance, I have to say I agree.
Granted, the weather was perfect (unlike the overcast Sydney introduction or the stormy Brisbane entree) when we rolled into town to the warm glow of
late afternoon and a cool breeze in the air – but the architecture was
interesting, the parks were inviting and the art was abundant. With the smell
of San Francisco and the sounds of Western Europe I think I am going to like
this place…
