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Published: December 26th 2006
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Melbourne; Time For A Rest (Vol 1).
First port of call. Funnily enough the Port. Friday 22nd December to Sunday 24th December
It's funny how little things can alter your mood, things like being told King Street, home of the Melbourne Connection Hostel was just one block from the Southern Cross Station at which I'd just arrived and not even the rumble of thunder and associated torrential downpour that followed (Melbourne's first rain for over a month) could temper the uplift in emotion I felt at receiving the news. The locals seemed not to mind the rain, I only saw one umberella on my short walk, so I saw no reason why I should either, I just wished I could get hold of Catweazle Andy to tell him I'd tracked down the Southern Cross ! The Connection was to be my home for the next week at least and the thought of my rucksack remaining planted to terra firma for so long gave me another boost.
My dorm was essentially a cellar in an old City building, the only window being a two foot by one foot barred affair adjacent to my pillow which opened at pavement level on the street outside. It was open and with thoughts of Airlie Beach still fresh in
Melbourne; Time For A Rest (Vol 1).
Whose a pretty boy then. Don't know what part this fella played in Australian history though. my mind I closed it immediately. Fortunately the rains had brought with them a dramatic drop in temperature to something more akin to a British summer (bloody freezing) so I felt more than justified.
It was 7.30 on a Friday night, I immediately set off to explore and it quickly became apparent, as it had in Darwin, that Australians like to celebrate the arrival of the weekend like no other race in the world. As I passed a bar door no more than a hundred yards from home a pair of sunglasses landed on the pavement in front of me followed by a man stooping to pick them up who was gathering speed all the time. He mumbled something obsene as I had to break stride to avoid a collision and I didn't look back to see if it was directed at me nor if his safety chute had opened before he hit the traffic or the ground. 'On your toes Matt', I thought to myself.
I made it without further incident to Global Gossip to check my e mails and was back at the hostel for 11.30pm and spent the next two hours nursing a couple of
Melbourne; Time For A Rest (Vol 1).
Flinders Street Station from the riverside. A nice contrast to the City. cold ones in another local bar, back to the wall of course. Another thing that has become patently obvious to me is that Aussie guys, in the event of there being a shortage of Sheila's to groove with, will happily strut their stuff with either themselves or other guys with not the slightest hint of shame or embarrassment and before you start thinking 'I bet he was in a gay bar' I can tell you it definitely wasn't. There were girls in there and some of them were dancing but the male bonding thing has reared it's head from the furthest north to the deepest south, something to do with the twenty odd pints they'd sunk maybe.
My first impressions of the City weren't too high. As with most areas around City centre rail stations, the area around the hostel was grubby to say the least, and I thanked my lucky stars I'd have the cricket to keep me occupied. Melbourne, like all sensible cities ie not English ones, is based on a grid system which makes navigation a hell of a lot simpler and I soon found out on Saturday morning that the outer bounds of the city
Melbourne; Time For A Rest (Vol 1).
This stuff is to die for and I ain't even an ice cream man. Lumps of crunchie contained within. And not a sign of any violent rumbles either. Mmm. were patrolled by trams which ran every ten minutes and which meant i) that they were never far away and ii) that access to all parts doesn't entail a two hour hike.
Having got on and off 3 stops later at the harbour I walked, I wasn't in a rush, a came across a lovely looking old building by the river with the word's 'Mariners Retreat' sculpted into the stonework. Curiosity got the better of me inexcusably not realising it was a building whose sole purpose was to offer a sanctuary for visiting sea men where they could meet, chat, drink and do whatever else took their fancy. I walked into a large hall where three rough looking asian men typed way on PC's in the corner and where three even rougher looking Russian guys in black leather jackets sat at the bar being tended by another asian lady. All seven stopped in their tracks when I entered and turned their attention to me and I was just about to turn and leave when the asian lady shouted "can I help you". It was immediately apparent it wasn't the place I thought it may have been (a maritime museum
Melbourne; Time For A Rest (Vol 1).
Suddenly my Mecca came into view. MCG on a Saturday afternoon. or something similar) and it was equally apparent that the magnificent seven knew that I hadn't just come in from the high seas. She explained it was a mission funded by donations and operated by volunteers and I thanked her for her kindness, or more for not setting the Moscow Mafia on me, although not before I'd cheekily asked if I could use the internet for five minutes. With a look that said 'you're pushing your luck son' she agreed but fortunately the only available machine wasn't working so I left.
It wasn't long before I was entering friendlier territory. The South Bank of the River Yarra is essentially an upmarket string of bars, cafes, restaurants and ice cream parlour's so I thought I'd treat myself. I ordered a double scoop of Violent Rumble, a mix of butterscotch ice cream with lumps of chocolate and honeycomb (crunchie bar) with a toffee dribble on top. It was simply the best I'd ever eaten and by the time I'd finished I was at the City proper. The Cathedral caught my attention as beautiful church buildings always do and noticing people entering I decided to follow. I sat in one of the
Melbourne; Time For A Rest (Vol 1).
Another view of Flinders Street Station. pugh's at the front as a choir and small orchestra practised and an hour had passed before I knew it.
I walked further and was soon of the opinion that my initial thoughts on the City were way off the mark. Melbourne is a wonderful City, just the right size to explore on foot and with constant reminders of the past intermingled with modern architecture. It's clean too, as expected, with a public service infrastrucure second to none.
That evening I decided to have a quiet night in and after my run I settled down for 'The Office' series 2 DVD and an early night. The banshee like wails of the Melbourne nightlife allied to my giggling, stumbling room mates coming in at 4am put paid to a good night's sleep but at least I felt certain I'd be fresh for my morning mission.
After a pre 9am Sunday morning run, extraordinary I know, I set off for The Novotel on Collins Street with a spring in my step. I was off to collect my tickets for the test and a step nearer to achieving a lifetime ambition to see England play at The MCG. Johnathan, a
Melbourne; Time For A Rest (Vol 1).
I took a rest in the cathedral as the choir and orchestra lullabyed me. colleague of Louise who'd shared my house for the four months prior to my leaving the UK and who I'd met in Chester when I'd handed the readies over greeted me with a smile. The guy before me had picked up his platinum tickets and been told smart but casual was the order of the day and I felt almost a second class citizen when John handed over my bronze envelope and in reply to my query said "please yourself, come as you like". He also gave me a Christmas card Louise had given him and I smiled as I read of Joseph's latest antics and Louise's thinly disguised disdain that "Mark's still tabbin it". In the four months we house shared "tab time" had become a popular shout from either Mark or myself which, upon hearing, would see the pair of us disappear into the garden for a quick fix of nicotine.
I'd heard that the teams were practising at the ground and true enough, as I approached the monstrous MCG I noticed crowds gathered around the nets. The Aussie's were in and I stood, watched and listened to the greatest bowler and philanderer who ever lived, Shane
Melbourne; Time For A Rest (Vol 1).
The beautiful cathedral. Home for a hour. Warne, entertain us from just a few yards away.
After an hour or so I walked back into the City and spent my last couple of hours before catching the train to Lynn and Steve's on a bench outside the library watching this great City go by.
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Donna
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Melbourne. I hope to go there someday. Have a lovely friend who lives there and she sends me so many amazing photographs. Anyway back to the cricket, what is the fascination?!! I've never been able to get my head around it. ;) Don't you worry about talking to them trees, they always listen. Don't forget to give them a hug from time to time, they love it ;) Enjoy your rest xxx