I am a nerd. The most thrilling thing that I have found in Melbourne so far is the state library. But seriously, it’s beautiful. I’m currently in this huge grand reading room, lined with old wooden nooks and tables, that soars up to a sky-lit dome. It reminds me of Yale, except that the walls are all white and the dome lets in gorgeously filtered natural light, so I don’t feel like I’m burrowed into a book-lined hole. Parts of the library are art galleries, so you can take a stroll around for free and see such delightful objects as the homemade armor of Ned Kelly, Australia’s most famous bushranger (aka outlaw) which includes a bucket with a slit cut in it that he used as a helmet. Allegedly it was pretty effective.
I’m having a bit of a love-hate relationship with Melbourne. When I first arrived, I was disappointed to realize that it looks exactly like San Diego. Don’t get me wrong, San Diego is a beautiful city, but I didn’t travel around the world to feel like I’m back in my hometown. Other than the fact that we were driving on the wrong side of the street, I felt like I could be in the Gaslamp in about 5 minutes. After getting rid of the bane of my existence, I mean, my backpack, I took off for a bit of a wander. There was a big festival in Melbourne this weekend, Moomba, which involved lots of street performers, fried food, and rides, sort of like a county fair in the states, but set up all along the Yarra River, which runs through the center of town. No one appears to know what this festival is celebrating - Google tells me it started when Queen Elizabeth II visited Melbourne in 1954, my tour guide tells me it’s to celebrate the 8 hour day and the labor movement, the drunk people in the street tell me it’s a celebration of getting schnockered during the day, so who knows? In general, this should be something I would enjoy, except that I couldn’t shake the feeling of being in bizarro San Diego, where everything was close enough to be somewhat familiar, but different enough to make me feel off-balance. This was compounded by the fact that it was about 100 degrees and blazingly sunny, and as I rapidly fried like a fresh turkey, I decided I hated Melbourne.
I eventually stumbled into a little bar/restaurant down on the wharf, which offered a degree of shade from some strategic palm trees, and had bean bag chairs (!) strewn about on the artificial grass. I ordered a beer and some dinner, and then the sun began to set over the water, and a jazz trio started performing beautifully, and I decided that maybe this place wasn’t so bad. The couple at the next table over started chatting with me, which rapidly evolved into them inviting me to join them for a concert that was part of Moomba, followed by fireworks. Live music always fills me with a general love for all of mankind, so even though I have no idea who the performers were (apparently it was quite a big deal, 4 giants of Australian rock/pop from the 70s and 80s all playing together for the first time, I can only assume it would be like Bruce Springsteen, Bon Jovi, Billy Joel, and the BeeGees all decided to give a concert), I decided part way through the evening that I loved this city, a feeling compounded by the fireworks, because it’s impossible not to like fireworks. So Judy and Grant, I must thank you for rescuing my opinion of this city.
A walking tour I took yesterday also assisted in heightening my regard for Melbourne. It really is the most fantastically artsy city, with little statues everywhere, bookstores scattered liberally around, a thriving theatre neighborhood, live music almost every night and street art around every corner. Between the main thoroughfares are laneways, which seem to be split about evenly between being monuments to stunning street art and being filled with tiny little cafes and boutiques. I was somewhat skeptical of these laneways at first, because in New York, we would call them alleys, and it’s where you would go if you wanted to get a first-hand taste of being mugged. My tour guide assured me, however, that in Melbourne they are entirely safe. I am too much of a New Yorker to not remain skeptical.
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