Melbourne

Melbourne was named after a Primeminister whom Queen Victoria was very fond of. Maybe we  and Melbourne should be relieved she was not so fond of Benjamin Disraeli. 

I didn’t get to see much. We were staying in the inner city without a car. It was a modern hotel where my bedroom had a kitchen. I got excited for just a fleeting minute as I imagined alternatives to pizza and sandwiches. 

I don’t do well in hotel rooms. I know some people love them. But for me, a kettle and a small fridge with a carton of milk does not replace a window that opens, a saucepan with heat to warm up soup and a little alarm clock. Clean sheets are a bonus obviously. Who doesn’t like clean sheets. But I can do clean sheets. I have a washing machine, the Italian laundry detergent that smells of sunshine and I have a carousel washing line that whips them into dry very quickly.

I make my bed when I get out of it at home or in a hotel. But there is this new fashion in hotels where they sandwich the duvet in between two sheets. It looks very impressive when you walk in to a sea of starched white, but it falls apart when you get into them as the top sheet is folded back over and stays in place for less than thirty seconds with you in the bed. 

Melbourne is so much more than anything I got to see. I went to the museum and was introduced to wonderful indigenous art. I had lunch at a restaurant serving indigenous food… which in my case turns out to be steamed sweet potatoes with warrigal greens. 

NGV Museum

I went on a river cruise down to the docklands under a series of frighteningly low bridges. There were stories of settlers who wanted to declare themselves king after having traded all the land that would be Melbourne, for some blankets. It was the state funeral of aboriginal elder, Uncle Jack Charles a 79 year old Boon Wurrung. There were deck chairs set up in Federation Square for everyone to be able to watch the ceremony on a big screen. 

Melbourne : Hundreds of coffee shops. Hundreds of restaurants. Lots of pubs where people stood outside drinking as they would in Waterloo. Because I was staying in the inner city there were lots of young men in suits. Lots of law offices I was told. There were hundreds of well dressed young Chinese people. They were sent here to the University by their parents who had the money to spend I was told. There was a lot of wealth and style in the clothing and haircuts of women of an age. Navy Blue was the color of choice. Clothes, not hair.

The Melbourne I saw was like standing in Oxford Circus and sending a postcard saying it was from London Town. Shocking really. 

However, there was a moment of redemption. I was near the river and breakfastless. So I wandered around and did that ridiculous thing of joining a queue outside a coffee shop because I decided they must know something I didn’t. It was called LUNE. 

The queue of the patient lemmings

I tried looking inside through the window, but all I could see were groups of young people with cups of coffee and pastries in front of them.  I am not a coffee drinker.  And I can easily pass by a pastry. There must be something more I thought. Do not give up your hard earned place in this queue.  The only sign I saw was 7.30 till 3 ( or sold out). Inching further I looked everywhere for a menu, there was none. When I got to the counter I saw that “ the menu” were the choices laid out in front of me. If it was there, it was available. Take it or leave it. 

Apparently I had waited 30 minutes for croissants called “ Birthday cake”, “ Cherry Ripe” and ‘ Kouign Amman”…. But then I spotted it. My unknown prize in this short visit to Melbourne, a “ Cheese and Vegemite “ croissant for 10 dollars. 

Australia’s Marmite elevated to it’s rightful place. 

“I’ll have one of those” I said and took it in it’s fancy bag to a bench by the Yarra river where I consumed it carefully like it was exotic foam.

Oh yes……

When I return to Melbourne I know where I’ll start.