Melbourne and the VPL

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 3^rd 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...

Maccas, Miles and Melbourne

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…