Melbourne - Part 1

Sunday January 29

Clark here.  We're in Melbourne now.  Properly pronounced "Mel-bun".  If you say "Mel-born", they'll look at you funny.  Funny like how we look at them when they say things like "Fair dinkum" or "strewth".

Melbourne is a buzzing metropolis of cool.  Art is everywhere -- from the buildings to the people to the streets themselves.  The architecture is a mix of Edwardian colonial, industrial trendy, and corporate wow.  The people are fashionable enough that we spend more time looking at them than in shop windows.  Even the back alleys are like galleries.  There are whole networks of alleys and laneways given over to street art and graffiti.

It would be even cooler if it wasn't 35°C.  When we unload the car after the drive from Malacoota it's like stepping out into an oven.  The shade is tolerable, but the direct sun is worrisome.  When we load the kids in the Chariot to go find some groceries, I worry about the angle that they recline at in their seats.  You couldn't put them at a better roasting angle if you tried.  They are well-used to the sunscreen ritual by now and are, so far, burn-free.

We find a grocery store that is frantic with a dense crowd of shoppers.  It's about dinner-time on a Sunday, they're taking numbers at the deli counter, and the Chariot is catching a few glares.  Most people are just carrying baskets, and the few shopping carts that are being pushed around are miniaturized.  The Chariot is like a Hummer in a city of Smart Cars.  When people glare, we tell them we're American.  If they say how much they like it, we tell them we're from Canada and boast that Chariots are manufactured in Canada.

The flat we've rented for our stay here looks very run-down from the outside but is very modern on the inside, with concrete floors, and some original art on the walls.  The neighbourhood we're in is St. Kilda which is kind of like Kitsilano in Vancouver.  There are lots of people in their twenties, lots of restaurants and beaches.  There's a big park where people go jogging by the lake, and the buildings tend more towards the colonial.  We can walk to most places and to get downtown (the CBD - Central Business District) there's a good network of frequent trams.  It's perfect.  We settle in, eat some roast chicken (that is stuffed we find out happily), and start flipping through maps and guide books and tourist pamphlets.

P.S.  Big shout-out to Cousin Eddie who is 40 today.  Mi gutter es su gutter, hermano.

Monday January 30

We head to Federation Square to start our tour of Melbourne and are blown away by the diversity in age and style of the buildings.

We decide to take advantage of the free tourist bus to get an overview of Melbourne.  For an hour and a half it wends its way through the CBD while a recorded commentator fills in the passengers on what they're seeing.  It's really good.  We get an idea where everything is, we find out a little about what's on offer at each spot, and we give each other little nods if something seems good enough to go back to.  Ellen nods when we pass by a strip of shops by the harbour; I nod when we see a pub serving kangaroo.  We don't end up going back to either.

Rusty gets a little restless after about 20 minutes on the bus.  She wants to get up and sit with some other passengers, or go say hi to the driver.  I try distracting her with some toys, I try sitting on her a little, but she gets more and more restless, and less and less quiet.  After 25 minutes, she is verging on a full tantrum and people are giving me that smile.  I point at a few of the things we're passing by and say stuff like, "Look!  A dog!"  She doesn't seem interested at all, so I hoist her up a little.  Apparently she couldn't see anything but sky out of the window, because all of a sudden her eyes bug out, she pastes her face to the glass, and shouts "WOW!"  She keeps on shouting WOW continuously for the rest of the ride, and the other passengers keep giving me that smile.

We hop off at the Shrine of Remembrance which is a massive pyramid-type monument in memory of all the soldiers who fought and died in the first World War.  At its core is a tomb for an unnamed soldier, inscribed with the words,

A GREATER

LOVE HATH

NO MAN

A beam of light comes down from the monument's apex and fills the chamber with diffuse, calming light.  Except for Rusty yelling, "HI!" and then giggling at the echo, over and over, it is a very regal and respectful atmosphere.  The old guys serving as guides and guards come over and tell us about other parts of the monument that might be of interest, like the gift shop.  We take the hint and move along.

View of Melbourne from the Shrine of Remembrance

Up on top of the shrine, a little short for the magnificent views on all sides, Rusty is most impressed by the shoes of the other tourists.

Tuesday January 31

A pamphlet that we picked up at the tourist centre in Federation Square takes us on a really great two-hour stroll through the CBD.  It has a map and write-ups about all the places you see as you go.  The one we pick is for lanes and alleyways, but there were lots of others too, like for shopping, or history, or art.  We leave the Chariot at home, bundle Audrey into her carrier on my chest, and put a leash on Rusty.

The first lane we hit is full of tiny cafes.  They used to mill flour in this district, the pamphlet tells us.  Now they grind coffee.  Some of them are so small that there is only room for the proprietor to stand behind his machine as he sells to passers by.  The middle of the lane has a single row of tables with people walking past on either side.  Rusty drags her hand along all the chairs as she goes by, and if a thigh or someone's bum happen to get in the way, she grabs those too.  At the other end of the leash, with a coffee now in the other hand, Ellen is dragged along apologizing as she goes.

We stop and check out some street art before the map sends us under a covered arcade.  Graffiti is of a very high quality here (like Banksy and the likes -  see link http://www.banksy.co.uk/)  and in certain districts it is officially sanctioned and even encouraged.  Fresh pieces cover up old ones and there is often not an inch of space left un-sprayed.  If a piece is particularly good, the other artists leave it unmolested and it reigns as long as it stays interesting.

Indoors, it's still like a laneway, but there is a glass roof with some ornate millwork.  The shops are still tiny, but there are fewer cafes now and more clothing boutiques and specialty stores.  The floors are all tiled mosaic that stretch on and on, right out of sight.  The map takes us around corners, across busy downtown streets, and back into more arcades.  We let Rusty mostly run free, so we go where she goes even it means backtracking or running around a fountain a hundred times, or just silently staring into the display window of a chocolate shop.  We have nowhere to be and she is definitely happier when we're not dragging her.

We stop at a sushi joint to get some rolls and feed the kids.  There is a single file of tables  running down the side of the bar and behind us a university-age couple sit down and start talking loudly.  We're up to our eyeballs in yoghurt and soy sauce and wipes, but a couple minutes later when Ellen gives me a look that says, "Are you hearing this?", I give a huge nod straight away.

"So that makes four times in eight months," the guy is saying.  He doesn't let the girl have much to say at all; he just keeps barreling along, right over her if he has to, in a loud enough voice to make us think he wants us to eavesdrop, yoghurt or not.

"Once with a stranger from a club in Chapel…"  Chapel is the street we're staying on and the evidence is piling up that it's on the racy side:  this guy, the Chapel-specific last call being introduced by the city, the HIV test clinics, the ads at every bus stop for STD awareness...  "Actually two of them were one-nighters from clubs."

Ellen is looking at the back of this guy's head and I am back to back with him.  I want to swivel round and listen properly but I've got Audrey on my lap fighting me on some spoonfuls of rice cereal.  "I was at one of those clubs myself last night.  I spent over $300," he says.

"One time was while she was traveling in America.  I can forgive that one no problem because you know how it is when you're traveling.  And she's only twenty-one, so you know, go for it.  And the first one I can forgive because that was after we'd been seeing each other for only four months.  Four months seems okay to me, but after eight months?"

Even after we get the girls fed and the yoghurt packed away, we keep sitting there.

"You want to know the stupid part?" he says.  Ellen and I very much want to know the stupid part.  "The stupid part is that I would still take her back if she would have me."  With that they get up and leave.  Show's over.  We gather up our stuff and continue on with our tour.

There are more shops, and more graffiti and more chasing after Rusty, but in the second half of our walk we hit on something good.  We come to realize that the way to eat, with two little ones in tow, is on the move.  We get a couple sushi rolls and eat them while we walk.  There is no fussing to get out of chairs, there is no whining.  We get some baking and eat it one-handed while we window shop.  There is no apologizing to other tables or the waiter.  We like this method so much we get a platter of steamed won-tons in Chinatown and eat them in a surf shop.  Rusty goes to work on the wheel of a skateboard, spinning it endlessly, Audrey goes to work on some won-tons, and I find myself with enough time to try on some sunglasses and shorts.  Marvelous.

Outside the surf shop, Rusty nearly pulls her leash apart trying to get up close to a busker.  The guy is strumming a guitar and rapping, but it's not gangsta rap - it's more like what Jack Johnson would do if he did rap.  It's really really good and we stay with Rusty for a whole song.  Half a block down the street there's another busker.  This guy is doing beatbox with nothing but a mic.  It sounds like he has six turntables going, but it's just him and his mouth.  Rusty doesn't smile or cheer or even move.  She just stares at the guy like something's wrong.  I give her a buck to go give to the guy and he interrupts the beat to say thank you.  That gets him a smile from Rusty.  Check him out here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h8_9xboguqg&feature=related

Rusty passed out after her big day in Melbourne