Sometimes Being Along Feels Good

Our stay in Port Campbell was brief, but beautiful. We chatted with a Canadian girl we bunked with who was traveling solo and also spending nights in her car and living off of peanut butter and crackers - so we felt instant kinship. The morning in PC consisted of a run from one side of town to the other (3 miles at most), a walk along the mountains bordering the ocean and a stop for ridiculously overpriced coffee for which we had a coupon from our hostel the night before. Back on the Great Ocean Road we saw a whole lotta road before stopping in Lorne, which was great. Lorne is only about an hour outside of Melbourne and this beach side town provided us the opportunity to sit on the beach without proper protection - a decision I am still regretting - and to dine. Jackie chose to have the Parma that is evidently a native Australian dish not to be missed - but looked and smelled an awful lot like Chicken Parmigana to me! Despite the lack of individuality she claims to recommend it for those cheese lovers of you. We were back on the road and in Melbourne in no time. It felt like coming home - as this has provided our longest residence thus far. Having opted for the luxury of eating meals the past couple of days we knew we would be staying in Casa de Auto the next couple nights and found ourselves back at the nice little spot by the ocean we had booked just a couple nights earlier. Luckily, tonight was movie night at the hostel, thanks to Jackie's Mac book Air, and we got to watch the uplifting flick 'Beautiful Boy' front row center. 'BB' is basically the telling of what the parents of the Columbine or Colorado shooters deal with in the aftermath of their progeny's carnage. So, uplifting it was not- but interesting for sure - and worth bit part played by the one and only Meatloaf for sure!

Fast to sleep and early to rise we had located Bikram Yoga South Melbourne as our morning activity and location at which to bathe. Having just risen from 8 (or so) hours upright in the driver's seat with the steering wheel lodged between my thighs, we must have been less than cheery because the proprietor did not seem to think the rude Americans, or girls from the Bronx as she later referred to us,  were all that cool. That is until Jackie pulled her inner bitch out, which she does from time to time and which I always thoroughly enjoy unless it is directed at me - and essentially called the lady on it. Good vibes were had after that. Good vibes and buckets of sweat. After Byron Bay I thought I would never experience a more liquified practice - but I was wrong. We made it through and immediately headed to breakfast as Jackie is a post-workout-eater and I am an anytime-anyone-else-is-eating-eater. No wonder she is Cindy Crawford and I am Cindy Williams.

We made our home at a little cafe called Blah Blah in South Melbourne on Coventry where the WiFi was decent and the food was good. Fruit salad enough to feed a small country and toast for me along with some work on the computer and a long overdue letter writing session and we were both drained. The next move was down to Westbank where you can sit quietly by the river that separates the city and watch any number of people partaking in physical exertion you yourself should be partaking in in a pretty park lined environment. Watching the rowers for the couple of hours we spent there left my deltoids sore and we had to move on. Over to Southbank for an electronics charging session and some alone time for me to watch the sun set below cityscape and, with the exception of a boisterous group of children who had not been properly muzzled by their parents, be still.

Lucky for us, our very exclusive hostel was showing a movie yet again this evening and as we dried our morning yoga clothes on the rear-view mirrors we were entertained by the likes of the entire female population in Hollywood in 'The Women.' You hear the occasional rumbling about the movie biz providing no good opportunities for actresses and this movie would be evidence of that. Painful from soup to nuts, Eva Mendes in her underwear was the highlight for me and with the theater's integrity being significantly compromised by some noisy passerbys clearly ignoring our jurisdiction over the public space, we called it a night.

Becoming accustomed to the gentle sounds of the waves lapping onto shore and the warm sun bursting through the clouds and shining down upon my sleeping face as God's alarm, I will say that the meter maid tapping on our window to move it or lose it lacked a certain serenity. Over to yoga again, as we got a 10 day pass for only $19 we knew we had our workout and shower taken care of.

Today was Valentine's day and over my very first breakfast of Muesli I was delighted to receive an adorable card purchased in Sydney and presented to me in Melbourne by my travel companion, Jackie. Not a huge fan of V-day in general, especially not when still longing for a love lost it was a nice surprise from a girl's who enthusiasm would be contagious if I weren't so damn crotchety.

Jackie had just returned from a 6 month sojourn in December, where she crashed on my couch for a month before us heading down under and her travel mates from her journey arrived in Melbourne on the 14th so she was off to meet them and I was on my own.

I wandered down Fitzroy Street in what is supposed to be a hip part of town to find funky boutiques, book stores and painted walls at every corner. The graffiti in this neighborhood is breathtaking and when I see a friendly face, like KRS-ONE staring back at me rep'ing my hood I can't help but love it.  Solitude at its best, I took my camera along for company and landed here, where I sit, eating eggs that most certainly have some ingredient that I dare not inquire into and drinking spirulina juice in the attempts to balance out my 2 weeks of cracker and candy consumption.

Sometimes, being alone feels good.

Melbourne is a City for Lovers ... And it Stinks!

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....