The Bizarre Horse Bazaar - Night 119

It proved to be a fortuitous morning to update my journal as my hermit-ness saved me from the rain and wind. Luckily just before I was set to meet Jana at 11am, the clouds broke and the sun poked through. Jana has been here over three weeks, but really hasn’t seen the city, so we played tourists for the afternoon. Our ride on the free city tram was short-lived, as they proved to be too slow, crowded, and hot to actually enjoy riding on them. After a stop at the Visitor’s Centre, we crossed the Yarra River over to the South Bank and the Royal Botanical Gardens. It took a few hours to wander through the massive, well-manicured grounds.

Famished, we eventually ended up in the Greek Precinct ready for a true Hellenic lunch. We were not disappointed. My Souvlaki Kebab was nearly the size of my head and took both hands to lift. Not only was it a healthy portion, but the lamb can only be described as succulent. I can say with some certainty that in my past 118 journal entries I have not once referred to any of meals as succulent, so you know this isn’t a term I throw around lightly. Rather than the compressed, some-what tasteless meat off of a rotating spit that is common in kebabs, my kebab was overflowing with actual, juicy chunks of lamb complete with small shards of dripping fat. Combined with the outstanding Tzatziki sauce and the homemade Pita bread it was otherworldly. I have a feeling I’ll be back to Spotitos Café at least once again before I leave Melbourne.

In the evening I met up with Anna and Sabine,

At Sister Something's Bar

friends of mine from my time in Brisbane, and their friend Max. After questioning a number of locals we finally managed to get some vague directions to a bar, Sister Something’s (I can’t think of the name of it now), that their roommates had told them about. As it turns out the directions were spot on as the quaint little upstairs bar was located at end of an alleyway off of an alleyway filled with various garbage cans and dumpsters. Completely unfinished on the inside, it had the look of a 19th century brothel. Strange pieces of random art graced the walls, as if the interior decorator raided the local Salvation Army. The clientele was quirky as well, sort of a mix between artists, backpackers and homeless bums. All things considered, it was a great little bar, tucked away from the madness of the main avenues of Melbourne. Around 10, we wandered over to the Horse Bazaar Bar to see a band that Sabine knew a member of (but had never listened to). The Horse Bazaar itself can only be described as bizarre, as was the music. The ceiling had undulating metal looking plaques on it and a fluid green swirl was projected onto the back of the urinal, giving you the feeling of watering the moving ocean. The first act was a computer synthesized audio-visual production showing desolate photos of the Outback on the wall behind the solo bass player. It wasn’t half bad, mostly due to the fact that it was soft enough to allow for conversation. The main act, if you could call it that, was a serious let down. I felt as though we were all being subjected to a teenage band practice. Even their name, Retail Intentions, sucked. I applaud the pursuit of the arts (for which I am tragically disinclined), but sometimes you’ve got to call a spade a spade and they were bad.

What I Learned Today: It is a generally accepted fact that girls are attracted to guys who are in bands; however, not being in a band can have its benefits. Namely, when he is up on stage you – the un-band member – have unfettered access to hit on his girl (especially when are both ripping on how bad his band actually is).

The City from the Botanical Gardens

written by

exumenius on February 6, 2008 from Melbourne, Australia

from the travel blog: Kiwis and Kangaroos

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