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Kiwis and Kangaroos
a travel blog by
exumenius
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New Brighton Beach - Night 114
Christchurch
,
New Zealand
Finally February. January was one of the longest and shortest months of my life. At times I forgot what day of the week it was and days passed by in seconds, other afternoons seemed to drag on for weeks. Unencumbered by duties and appointments, by meetings and deadlines, by any semblance of structure time begins to take on a novel dimension. Sometimes you wonder what you are doing, what you are accomplishing, but then you have to remember that you are living, learning and experiencing and, honestly, why shouldn’t that just be enough for awhile?
New Brighton Pier
The morning hinted at a beautiful day ahead so I put on my walking shoes and hiked it for 90 minutes out to the New Brighton Beach. Crossing through numerous small neighborhoods and subdivisions along the way I couldn’t help but be reminded of how young New Zealand is. Nearly all of the development here is post WWII, low density, ranch homes. Makes for a monotonous stroll, to say the least. The crowning achievement of New Brighton is the large pier that juts out in to the sea for many tens of meters. Attached to this (on land) is the public library and a bar…in the same building. Whoever the ingenious architect/planner of this multi-use structure was ought to be given a medal. Seriously, what a great combination. All in one place you can go fishing, check out a book, read the paper and order a stiff one at 9am on a Friday morning. It came as no surprise that this was one of the busiest public libraries I have ever seen.
The New Brighton neighborhood is a bit of a
New Brighton Beach
retirement area, holding homes of the wealthy ex-lawyers, doctors, and filthy real estate developers. You might think this would lend to an overall lack of excitement, but to the contrary, I find these septuagenarian zones quite humorous. Old men in electric chairs and funny hats beeping at old women trying futilely to parallel park along the boulevard. Dementia runs rampart, resulting in a rash of one sided conversations. Today’s winner was an old man in full Lederhosen outfit (plus a helmet) riding a bike down the pier (No Biking Allowed) balancing a fishing pole across the handlebars and smoking a cigarette. I can only hope I’ll have this much soul when I hit 70.
The Canterbury Art Gallery
Because I am an incredibly cultured individual (or maybe because entrance was free) I took to the halls of the Canterbury Art Gallery in the afternoon. Quite surprisingly, I wasn’t disappointed. A number of the themed rooms were actually interesting and the total volume of ridiculous modern art trash – like the pile of cardboard boxes that was supposed to represent someone’s repressed childhood – were kept to a minimum. Now if art weren’t so damned expensive as I actually found some pieces I wouldn’t mind hanging in my place…had a I place.
What I Learned Today: Having butter in a hostel kitchen is much like having a lighter at a party. Translation: it is good way to get girls to talk to you.
written by
exumenius
on February 1, 2008
from
Christchurch
,
New Zealand
from the travel blog:
Kiwis and Kangaroos
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Al's Bar - Night 115
Christchurch
,
New Zealand
Honestly, I didn’t do a whole lot today. The morning was spent updating journal entries and trying to get photos to upload to the internet. I’ll be very happy once I’m back in Australia where the web operates at above
The Center of the City
phone modem speeds. In the afternoon I wandered down to the Canterbury museum, which turned out to be just like the other major museums in Auckland and Wellington; a few rooms of Maori art, some Greenstone artifacts, a section on seafaring and a mock street scene from the 1890s. I suppose there really isn’t much history in a country that only been settle for 700 years, and Anglicized just 150 years ago. If you sense a pervading tilt of negativity in my prose today, I would acquiesce to that supposition. I’ve sort of come to the end of the road in New Zealand and am ready to move on….but first Al’s Bar.
Nikos, one of the volunteers from my Wellington days arrived in town today, so I made plans to meet him and a few of his new volunteer friends out for a drink. While having a few drinks at the hostel beforehand I befriended my roommate, Karla, from Newfoundland. As later this week Karla is headed to Antarctica for 13 months of cultural artifact preservation, she was keen to spend one last night amongst civilization and agreed to come along. We also met Richie, from England, who had developed a thirst on his flight in today and thus we were rolling down to Al’s Bar three deep.
dDub at Al's Bar
On tap at Al’s was dDub, a local band. I thought that cover charge was a bit steep ($20) for someone I had never heard of, but then again, I don’t know any Kiwi bands so the price likely indicated their popularity. The place was full, but not overly-packed and we had no problem eventually working our way up to the front. The best way to classify dDub’s sound is that it is like Sublime, but without any drug or prostitution references. The leader singer looked like a healthy Keith Richards, the bass player a dead ringer for Cousin Boerst, and a good looking blonde girl in a fedora played the flute. Karla thought the sound could be considered Calypso…not knowing the definition of Calypso music (nor the spelling) I was in no position to refute her theory.
What I Learned Today: I may have some sort of illness. At the bar, listening to live music and steadily drinking I found myself thinking about spatially weighted hedonic modeling.
written by
exumenius
on February 2, 2008
from
Christchurch
,
New Zealand
from the travel blog:
Kiwis and Kangaroos
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Last Night in New Zealand - Night 116
Christchurch
,
New Zealand
My last day in
New Zealand
and a gorgeous
The World Croquet Championships
one at that; mid 80s and not a cloud in the sky. I walked down to Hagley Park, a massive collection of soccer fields, botanical gardens, tennis courts, a golf course and numerous other playfields. Quite luckily I stumbled upon the World Croquet Championships. I’ve always wondered if these strange sports like this actually have competitive events, and the answer appears to be yes, yes they do. I cringe a bit at labeling this a sport…old men in white shorts, high socks and stupid blazers whacking around colored balls hardly qualifies as athletics in my book. But there were spectators, all eight of them and the average age was 75. Today was the second of nine days of competition. Nine days of watching croquet, simply unbelievable. I tried to make it nine minutes…I lasted about ninety seconds. Nonetheless, while all of you schmucks in America were getting ready for the Super Bowl, I was at the World Croquet Championships. Eat your hearts out.
The Avon River
After the excitement of croquet, I decided to take it easy in the afternoon. Laundry and minimizing my domestic situation (throwing stuff away) occupied most of the rest of the day. As I had to wake up at 4am for my airport shuttle, my night lasted until about 8:30, when I gladly lay down in my quiet, single room and slept like a log.
What I Learned Today: After 114 days of shared accommodation, a small 80 square foot room to myself felt as large and comfortable as the Palace of
Versailles
.
written by
exumenius
on February 3, 2008
from
Christchurch
,
New Zealand
from the travel blog:
Kiwis and Kangaroos
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Across the Tasman Sea - Night 117
Melbourne
,
Australia
Leaving Stonehurst at 4am
I was up before my 3:30am wakeup call. Not surprising, as my inner clock has never failed me on flight days. The airport shuttle arrived a bit late at 4:15 and after a few more pickups we were at the International Terminal by 5am exactly as check-in for my 7am to Melbourne opened. My domestic reduction exercise of yesterday had paid off as I can now fit all my belongings, including my sleeping bag, into my large rucksack thus greatly reducing the awkwardness of having the sleeping bag dangling off the back. Very proud of my minimalism, I have nary seen another traveler with less luggage than I.
The four hour flight was pleasant and prompt; just like all of my low-cost carrier flights overseas. If only the U.S. commercial carriers could figure it out. We landed at Melbourne around 9am and by 9:25 I was on board the bus to the city. That’s 25 minutes to deplane, go through customs, baggage claim, and quarantine, including two questioning by customs agents and a random drug dog sniff. It takes nearly twice as long just to get your baggage from a domestic flight landing in Seattle. The efficiency of Australia’s second busiest airport was absolutely astounding.
Stepping out of the airport I was immediately struck by the warm, moist air. Having spent the last two and a half months in the windy, low humidity air of New Zealand the thick, still air in Melbourne was quite a change – like getting off the plane in Baton Rouge after having started the morning in the Pacific Northwest. The bus into the main station and the free transfer to my accommodation where just as efficient as the airport security…a good sign as I was in a race against time to catch as much of the Super Bowl as possible. After checking in, I tossed my bags on my bed and headed out in search of the nearest sports bar (The girls at the front desk proved completely useless and couldn’t mention one single sports bar in the city, other than “maybe the Casino?”). A block down the road I passed the Duke Hotel, which was showing the game on a large flat screen. The place was pretty much empty (it was 11 am on a Monday) so I had the best seat in the house. I was shortly joined by a talkative Aussie guy who worked next door, but spent the majority of the four hour game jawing my ear off about the supreme kicking abilities of the Australian Rules Football players. The cook was a NFL fan and was pulling for the Giants along with me. The manager and the talkative guy were rooting for the Patriots. As the bar began to fill up for the lunch hour I had to pass updates to the waitress who passed them on to the cook, as he was sequestered in the kitchen fulfilling his duties. On the Giants winning drive and the subsequent Patriots possession he temporarily shut down the kitchen and joined us in watching the end of, what I consider to be, one of the most exciting Super Bowls in memory.
The City at Dusk
I took a well deserved afternoon nap (I had been up since 1:30 am Australian time) and then ventured out into the city. A brief thunderstorm sprung up in the early evening, bringing some relief from the stifling humidity. The humidity, haziness, and soaring cumulonimbus clouds reminded me of the summers of my youth, of little league games rained out, of vicious lightening strikes and of tornado watches and flash floods. Living in Seattle, you just don’t get these things. Melbourne’s downtown is set on a perfect grid system and is filled with little alleyways and nooks that are jammed with restaurants while on the main streets retail stores dominate. The only place I’ve ever been with more shopping and restaurants is New York City. Men in suites downing pints of beer at small hidden pubs and the trams lining the street give the city a distinctly European feel. I stopped in the funky Federation Square for a bit of outdoor TV viewing on the huge screen before wandering back to the hotel by 9. In order to get my internal clock on the right setting, I managed to stay awake until 11 and then passed out dead.
What I Learned Today: Little pieces of home can go a long way on the road. Just watching the Super Bowl brought with it a sense of revelry and a reminder that in less than six weeks I’ll be back on American soil. As a sidenote, unfortunately, the overseas broadcast of the Super Bowl did not include the vaunted U.S. commercials. Instead we were stuck with cricket and rugby snippets as well as that annoying Snickers ad with Mr. T in the tank (do you have it in the US?). They did, however, advertise that the Super Bowl commercials could be viewed on MySpace immediately following the game.
written by
exumenius
on February 4, 2008
from
Melbourne
,
Australia
from the travel blog:
Kiwis and Kangaroos
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Queen Victoria Market - Night 118
Melbourne
,
Australia
The stormy, wet weather continued today. Low, thick clouds kept temperature down, but the humidity was hovering near saturation again. I set out north in search of the Victoria Market. Not knowing what to expect, I sort of figured a glorified flea market. Was I wrong. The Victoria Market is three square blocks of enclosed and semi-enclosed buildings absolutely full of vendors hawking everything under the sun. The buildings are divided up between manufactured goods, fruit
The Queen Victoria Market
and veggies, and meat. A small prepared food structure lies nearby as well, not to mention the numerous adjacent retail shops taking advantage of the agglomeration of shoppers. I started in the manufactured goods area. Belts, shirts, shoes, jewelry, sunglasses, paintings, and of course souvenirs. All cheap, all likely made in China. If you can put the words “Australia” or “Melbourne” on it, they have it. The vendors in this area were primarily middle age Chinese men or old white couples. Next door in the fruit and veggie barn the Greeks seemed to dominate. Melbourne has the largest Greek population in the world outside of Athens, so quite naturally these immigrants are drawn the chaos of running a market stand. Rows and rows of every kind of fruit and vegetable imaginable. Old women with large carts perused the alleys, hoping to catch a deal on potatoes or onions. Here the vendors were much more vocal and aggressive, actively yelling out prices and limited time offers. Luckily I was standing near a vendor who momentarily dropped the price of bananas from $2.00 a kilo to $1.60 a kilo. Immediately the vultures attacked and half of the vendor’s bananas were gone in five minutes. Walking around, I noticed that almost everyone else had priced bananas at exactly $2.00 a kilo. The absolute veterans of the market seem to have extensive knowledge of prices and jump on a deal when they see one. I filed across the street to the enclosed, refrigerated meat market. Again, I was flabbergasted at the choices; lamb liver, diced goat, ox
The Meat Market
tongue, 30 kinds of sausages (including Texas Chili and Spicy Mexican), every fish known to the Southern Hemisphere, as well as an inconceivable combination of cuts and pre-marinated offerings of beef, chicken, pork and lamb. Next door in the dry foods annex, all manners of dead animals hung dried and salted. In short, if you’ve ever eaten it or dreamed of eating it, you can probably buy it here. As a manner of comparison, the Victoria Market is at least ten times as large as the Pike Market in Seattle, although it does lack the brass pig and the guys in orange suits actively tossing fish through the air.
Overwhelmed, I did finally manage to settle on some mandarins, a bag of fresh salad greens, and a pair of lamb and mint sausages. In my time down under I’ve developed a real taste for lamb and mint…it’s a good combination, especially in sausages. After lunch I strode down to the Visitor’s Centre in search of decent city and transit map. One could not be had for less than $10. I eventually ended up near the University of Melbourne and took an opportunity to browse the massive campus, which was surprisingly active considering it is summer break. A glutton for punishment (or maybe just a seeker of knowledge), I hit up the library to do a bit of research on some projects that I am tangentially working on while overseas.
In the evening, Matt, one of the volunteer from Brisbane who is now in Melbourne, stopped by my hostel for a few beers. Later on we met Jana, another volunteer from Brisbane, in Chinatown for dinner. Hidden deep in an alleyway was an unassuming little blue door with “Shanghai Noodle Company” written on it. Inside was a bustling, unpretentious two-story restaurant absolutely filled to the brim with patrons. We were quickly seated, prodded for an order, and delivered food within 7 minutes of arrival. The table turnover here is quick as demand is high. The food did not disappoint, either. The first decent Chinese dish I’ve had since crossing the equator in October. When it came time to pay, the old man running the till (likely the proprietor) knew exactly what we had by memory, quite a feat considering the volume of customers. After dinner we met up with one of Matt’s old roommates, Scott from Tasmania, and retired to The Lounge for some drinks on the outdoor porch overlooking Swanston Street, one of the main nightlife streets in Melbourne. Nearly 75% of the patrons on the porch smoked, the polar opposite to the situation in New Zealand, where hardly a smoker could be found. There is some interesting sociological research just waiting to be done on regional/national nicotine habits.
What I Learned Today: The industrialized supermarket has greatly reduced our abilities to handle the medieval market setting. I am used to going into a store with a list of grocery items and then choosing between the generic, the mid-level, and the high-end brand and that’s it. Here in this market setting, you’ve got 35 vendors selling tomatoes of all qualities and all different prices. Trying to keep track of the best deals on just one item is tough, doing it on a whole list of groceries must be damned near impossible, at least for a novice like myself. The old Greek women, however, seemed to be right at home, demanding samples, haggling over prices and slowly filling their carts with fresh produce and meat. This, in all actuality, is a “Super Market” in all facets of the word, far, far superior to the imposters bearings such names as Safeway, QFC, and Albertson’s.
written by
exumenius
on February 5, 2008
from
Melbourne
,
Australia
from the travel blog:
Kiwis and Kangaroos
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The Bizarre Horse Bazaar - Night 119
Melbourne
,
Australia
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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Crusing the Cultural Capital - Night 120
Melbourne
,
Australia
The Melbourne Cathedral
Melbourne is known as the cultural capital of
State Library of Victoria Reading Chamber
Australia so I figured I should spend a day or two taking in its essence of grandeur and high society. My first stop was the Victoria State Library. Part functioning library, part museum, the VSL is located in a grand old, domed building on the north side of downtown. The great, octagonal reading room opens up all the way to the top of the dome giving you a rat-in –a –cage feeling as other patrons can look down on you from three stories up. The top three floors of the dome house the museum. The first exhibit is a presentation on the history of books from about 1300 to the modern age. Showcasing some of Australia’s rarest and most valuable literary artifacts, it proved interesting. Also on show, was a floor dedicated to the State of Victoria. Most of it was inconsequential state-building memoirs and photos of Melbourne from the turn of the 19th century; however, one small nook was a tribute to the Australian Robin Hood, Ned Kelly. Edward Kelly was rogue bushman who stole from the rich and gave (on occasion) to the poor, along the way killing police, burning buildings
Ned Kelly's Iron Vest
and generating a cult following. The prize piece was the iron armor suit he was wearing when police finally caught up with him in 1880. The precursor to the modern bulletproof vest, the unit must have weight 80 pounds or more, but it did protect his vital organs from the police revolvers when he jumped out of the bushes and opened fire on a legion of cops one fateful spring day. Kelly was eventually apprehended and hanged after serving some time in the Melbourne Gaol. He is most famous for his final words, which he delivered to his mother (who was let out of jail for a few hours to witness her son’s demise) on his way to the gallows. Kelly, when confronted with his eminent death, said, and quite parsimoniously at that, “such is life.”
I swung by the Queen Victoria Market to pick up some groceries for lunch. Gazing at the interesting selection from the Wild Game vendor I couldn’t help but purchase some kangaroo sausages. They taste a bit gamey, but with the right spices in the sausage they proved to be delicious. I have a feeling I’ll be trying the wild boar and crocodile before I leave town.
The National Gallery was my destination for
National Gallery
the afternoon. It’s a huge place and I only managed to complete the first two floors before my concentration and interest gave out. I have a growing appreciation for paintings and sculpture, but pottery and furniture just don’t do it for me. Today was Anna’s last day in Melbourne, so we went out for a beer and some Indian food to bid her a farewell. After two nights on the town I needed a good night sleep so it was back to the hostel by 10. My desired sleep was not to be had. Around 1am one of the Irish guys came back, made a half phone call on his cell and then passed out mid-sentence. Shortly thereafter his friends, one male and one female (who was sleeping above me) came back in drunk as fuck. They both climbed into their respective beds and then the girl (whose shape could best be described as oval) began to beg the guy to come over to her bed. He continually denied her out of good sense and hopefully respect for me, the unfortunate soul sleeping beneath her. Her continual nagging continued for about twenty minutes until my patience ran out and finally I said “If I come up there, will you please shut up.” He laughed, she didn’t, but she did quit her sad whining…and no, I didn’t go up and service the behemoth.
What I Learned Today: B: Shortly after the mainstream adoption of the codex (the modern equivalent of the vertically-bound book) the demand for laboriously hand copied Bibles rose sharply, especially for those in the English and German Languages. The Church, however, deemed this to be an abomination and desperately tried in vain to destroy all the copies it could; copies of their own Bible, the very ones the priests purportedly used to deliver mass….Just another small reminder that the quest for absolute control of thought (through manipulation and monopoly of the medium) transcends all governments and religions.
written by
exumenius
on February 7, 2008
from
Melbourne
,
Australia
from the travel blog:
Kiwis and Kangaroos
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Olympic Park - Night 121
Melbourne
,
Australia
Needing a change in scenery, I changed hostels today. Thus much of my morning was spent packing and relocating. After another lunch courtesy of the market vendors I began a grand walkabout through Melbourne’s inner neighborhoods. My trek began heading north on Lygon Street, the Italian district. Three blocks of nearly continuous Italian restaurants and gelato stands hug the street with outdoor seating spilling out onto the sidewalk. It was a good thing I had just eaten for the aroma wafting from the restaurants would be enough to transform a wafer thin anorexic into a pasta-eating glutton. I turned east for a few blocks and then headed back south along Brunswick Street. This area, known as Fitzroy, is the haunt for the hipsters, the artists and, not surprisingly, the gay community. Funky little stores and cafés plastered with Che posters are tightly packed on both sides of the street. The local population is befitting of the aura. Sadly, I only saw one man in a Utili-Kilt,
Outside the Royal Cricket Grounds
so it seems Fitzroy has some work to do before it catches up with Capitol Hill in Seattle.
Crossing into East Melbourne, I came up on the Captain James Cook cabin. Shipped from England in boxes and rebuilt on the spot, the small structure sits inconspicuously in the middle of the Fitzroy Gardens. America’s fascination with Columbus and the other early European explorers pales in comparison to Australia and New Zealand’s god-like worship of Captain Cook. Next to Queen Victoria, he is easily the most revered of all the 18th century figures in the South Pacific. It seems every little town on the coast has a “Captain James Cook landed here and surveyed the land/resupplied his ship/cut new timber/took a nap/killed some locals/pissed/shit/sneezed, etc
The Fitzroy Gardens give way to the Royal Cricket Grounds. The Lambeau Field of Australia, the RCG is the most famous cricket stadium in all the land. Located next door is the Vodafone Arena, the Melbourne Tennis Ground (home of the Melbourne Cup), and Olympic Stadium, site of the 1956 Olympic Games. Combined with the Botanical Gardens just across the Yarra River, this compendium of sporting venues and adjacent parks creates a massive greenspace occupying the southeast quadrant of the inner city. It was deathly calm on this Friday afternoon; however I can imagine it turns into a madhouse during a test cricket match or the tennis tournament. Before heading back to the hostel I stopped at the National Gallery again to finish where I left off yesterday. Back home, the Metro YHA has a great rooftop complete with deck chairs, a BBQ, and a million dollar view of the Melbourne skyline. I grilled up some mint flavored lamb with sautéed onions, peppers and mushrooms, all purchased at the market for less than $5.
The Skyline
What I Learned Today: Sometimes a piece of art really takes hold of your mind. The gallery had an offering from a Brisbane artist who carefully took spider webs from her backyard, sprayed them with fluorescent colors and then laid them on a black background. Their striking resemblance to city maps drew me in as I attempted to assimilate each one to a city whose road pattern I knew.
written by
exumenius
on February 8, 2008
from
Melbourne
,
Australia
from the travel blog:
Kiwis and Kangaroos
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St. Kilda - Night 122
Melbourne
,
Australia
Mid-morningish, after another breakfast
Melbourne from St. Kilda Pier
from the market, I caught a tram down to Melbourne’s beach playground, the suburb of St. Kilda. The St. Kilda Festival has been running all week so I had hoped to indulge in some carnival food and breathe in the general merriment of a summer festival. Upon arrival, I was disappointed that most of the booths and such were just being set up. As it turns out, Sunday is the big day for the festival, Saturday is just a primer. This sort of nonsense would never pass in the States, since Saturday would be the big drinking and partying night with Sunday reserved for families. But then again, St. Kilda Festival is alcohol-free so that might have something to do with it. I had to settle for a meal from a café on the strip. The weather was partly cloudy, but warm, so I walked down the famous St. Kilda pier and hung out on beach for a
Beach Wakeboarding
bit. One of the attractions was up and running, the wakeboarding pools. Here three large inflatable pools are laid end to end, with jumps and rails in the middle. On the far side is a machine that is no more than a large winch that pulls the rope from one end to the other. Participants grab the rope and are pulled along the water, doing tricks and jumps along the way. It was exciting for about 20 minutes.
That evening I met Matt and Jana at their place on Farraday Street. The location is superb, just two blocks from the University of Melbourne and twenty steps from Lygon Street, the Italian District. The condition of the home, however, is not. It currently houses about ten people, mostly backpackers with working visas and one aboriginal couple. You can imagine the sort of maintenance the landlord gives to such a place….none. Matt’s old roommate, Scott from Tasmania, was hosting a birthday party up in North Melbourne so on the tram we got with intentions to crash. It was advertised as a cocktail party, but being backpackers our wardrobe of fine clothing is limited to say the least. No problem, as only about 50% of the revelers present had followed the invitation’s dress code guidelines. It was a good party and we returned home sometime after the 3 am hour.
Consiting of a large percentage of men,
Scott's Birthday Party
the party didn’t have the hot Aussie women I was hoping to see. There was a prodigious amount of food and alcohol, however, and the girl behind the bar kept feeding us Sambuca shots. Around 3am the party was winding down and, as I tend to do, I got a bit restless, so I decided to walk back home. This should have been a simple procedure…just follows the tram line back to Lygon Street. It wasn’t. Somewhere along the line I got lost. I remember thinking just find the bright lights of downtown and head towards them. I also them remember looking for the bright lights and not seeing them. Eventually I found some late party-goers who pointed me in the right direction, but laughed when I told them I was going to walk it. Two hours later I finally made it back to my hostel, at the nice early hour of 5:15am. I hadn’t exactly taken the shortest route possible. On flat ground I can generally cover about 3.5 miles an hour, figuring in my drunken pace I probably walked about 6 miles to get back home. I still wasn’t the least bit sober upon heading to bed.
What I Learned Today: Enough alcohol can even mess with my usually amazing sense of direction
written by
exumenius
on February 9, 2008
from
Melbourne
,
Australia
from the travel blog:
Kiwis and Kangaroos
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The Year of the Rat - Night 123
Melbourne
,
Australia
On top of the YHA
I woke up in time to check out at 10am, probably smelling like a goddamn bar rag. Still drunk, I showered, stored my belongings in a locker and then retired to the upstairs lounge to nap for a bit on an outdoor swing. As luck would have, this, my last in Melbourne, was finally a pleasant day. The extra few hours of sleep and the fresh air didn’t really seem to help so I changed tactics and decided to walk it off.
Downtown was an absolute melee as today
Chinese New Year Celebration
was the celebration of the Chinese New Year. A true glutton for punishment, I headed right for the mass of parading dragons and firecrackers in search of decent Asian food. Along a back alley I found a bustling little place called the Kum Den. Strictly for the name novelty I had to eat here. The manager who was seating people was an absolute prick, another sign that the food would be good. As they were very busy and only had large tables I ended up being seated with an elderly Chinese couple and two guys who looked like they had just broken out of the asylum. Good company can always make a meal better, or at least more
The Kum Den
memorable. My honey pepper chicken on fried noodles was nothing short of amazing. If you are even in Melbourne I highly recommend the Kum Den. The rest of the afternoon was spent enjoying the various street acts and market all about the city. Some were related to the Chinese New Year, most
Amazing Street Art
were not. Sundays in Melbourne are quite eventful. On the way back to the hostel to claim my backpack, I was drawn into Stalactites by the memories of the world’s greatest kabob I had had just days earlier. I switched up my order to the filet kebab and was highly disappointed as it didn’t approach the succulent lamb variety of days before.
My overnight 10 hour bus bound for
Leaving Melbourne
Adelaide left the Southern Cross Station at 8:30pm. As we cruised out of town over the harbor bridge the sun was setting on the beautiful day while a sliver of the moon hung low in the sky. By the time we had made our first stop at 1 am I was beginning to question my decision to take the bus.
What I Re-Learned Today: The best way to beat a hangover is too attack it straight on. Lying around, feeling sorry for yourself and trying to remember what it is you did the night before only makes it worse. The only way to cure it is to get up and walk it off. Oh yeah, Chinese food helps too.
written by
exumenius
on February 10, 2008
from
Melbourne
,
Australia
from the travel blog:
Kiwis and Kangaroos
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