268 - 283. Melbourne

Once we had deposited the campervan back at the depot we walked across town to the Victoria Hotel where we would be spending the next two nights. Even though it was early in the morning they had the room ready and were kind enough to let us check-in before the usual 2pm. The room itself wasn’t up to much and Isla used the adjective “tired” which described it (and the rest of the hotel) perfectly. However, we weren’t that bothered as it was warm, had a comfy bed and a decent shower – which we used immediately.

Once we were refreshed and had washed the last dregs of the Ocean Road off us we took to the street to have a look at the city of Melbourne. I should point out that whenever you speak to anyone about Melbourne they will unanimously tell you that there are only three things to do there – eat, drink and shop. That’s it. Nothing else. Therefore I felt that the 365 would suffer here even though Melbourne itself is quite an experience. So with that in mind I decided to include places that we ate and bars we drank in. I only counted shopping as a single entity as it’s something I’m not particularly interested in and besides I’m sure you don’t want to know about which cream I bought for my athletes foot. It might be deemed cheating but when you read the following paragraphs I’m sure you’ll realise it’s the only way to give you a flavour of what Melbourne is really all about.

Anyway, as has become the norm for us, we went looking for the 268. Free Bus Tour which are now the mainstay of reconnaissance for any city that we visit. It was ok but more akin to the one in Brisbane than the one in Sydney. Again Melbourne isn’t really and iconic city and in order to get the best out of it you really need the help of a seasoned local – which we would have in the form of Laura the following day.

We got off the bus and spent a while in 269. Federation Square which is one of the latest architectural spectacles to be built in Melbourne. It’s a strangely constructed group of buildings that host various arts and culture events as well as a collection of bars and restaurants that surround the “meeting place” which is the Square proper. We had trouble getting a seat in one of the bars and when we finally got a table outside a small restaurant our enjoyment of the atmosphere was hampered by the fact we were in the smoking section and EVERYONE in Melbourne smokes. So we didn’t even stay long enough to order anything and with a cursory glance at the guide book we decided to take a tram somewhere.

That somewhere was St Kilda which is on the water front and only a short ride on the number 16 tram. What we didn’t realise thought was that St Kilda was not the last stop so the 20 minute tram trip became a 50 minute ordeal into the middle of nowhere before we realised we’d completely missed St Kilda. The streets the tram had taken us down seemed pleasant enough though so we got off and decided to walk back up the road.

After a brief stop in a funky little café for a sandwich we finally found ourselves in 270. St Kilda. It’s a cool secluded suburb which is dominated by the tacky and equally famous Luna Park which we walked past but decided not to go into. That also happens with its sister park in Sydney and I’ve no plans to include either of them in the Challenge. Cheesy and old-fashioned as they may be they still have almost cult status and even Bill Bryson visited the Sydney one and mentioned it in his book Down Under. Shame on you Bill, dropping your standards like that.

The main street in St Kilda is called Acland St and is filled with cake shops and boutique clothing shops and cake shops and bars and cake shops and cafes and cake shops and tattoo parlours and cake shops and record stores and cake shops… You get the picture. It was a sign and after the long walk from the sticks we thought we would justify a pastry or two and called into the imaginatively named 271. Acland St Cake Shop where we scoffed vanilla slices and baked cheese cakes like they were going out of fashion. Not here they weren’t.

After we’d had our fill of St Kilda and it’s baked goods we jumped back on the tram and slowly trundled back to the heart of the city. The shops in Melbourne are open quite late and Friday night shopping doesn’t stop till a yawning 10pm so we had plenty of time to do some 272. Shopping in Melbourne. We meandered through the QV Centre and the Melbourne Central Mall and window shopped in Collins, Swanston and Elizabeth streets. There was so much to see and the best stuff was usually found lurking in dark side streets where no well respecting British shop would even dare to be found.

Our tour of the shops lead us back to our hotel which was just as well since we were meeting a girl called Anna for dinner. Anna was one of my medical students who was originally from Melbourne and happened to be there at the same time as us. She and Isla had struck up a rare friendship since they had become running partners in Sydney a few months ago and had arranged the dinner date a couple of weeks earlier.

Dumping our shopping bags and quickly changing into something dinner-ish (which is hard when all you have is a backpack full of damp and smelly shorts and t-shirts) we were soon out the door hailing a cab to take us for 273. Dinner on Lygon St which is in the famous Italian quarter of Melbourne and is loaded with eateries all with a hefty European flavour. The place we were going to was called Tiamo and had a simple but tasty menu – simple in that you chose a sauce and a type of pasta to go with it. They only had about 5 of each but what was served to us was cooked with the perfection that only an Italian Mama can muster. Mind you it was probably put together by illegal Philippinoes working in the back kitchen but I prefer to think of a big fat master cook stirring a cauldron of fettuccini as she shouts orders at her extended family while wiping carbonara sauce on her already stained apron that hardly covers her paunch which is a result of too much good food and too many babies.

Regardless, the chow was magic and very filling so when Anna suggested cake I almost baulked. I was outnumbered and after a few strides to the next street we were eating Danish pastries and drinking cappuccinos in 274. Buretti’s which Anna complained had “become too much like a canteen these days” for her liking but still put a nice bit of icing (excuse the pun) on the Italian Quarter eating experience. By this point it was almost 11pm yet all the cafes were stowed with people enjoying their coffees, chatting, reading, working on laptops and, of course, smoking. The European influence was so ridiculously evident that were it not for the street signs and menus written in English you could have been forgiven for thinking you were kicking back in a café in Paris or Rome. I think anyone from our neck of the woods would find it hard to get home sick living in Melbourne and if distance to the rest of the world was a problem in Australia as a whole then Melbourne was the solution to that issue.

Our coffees and desserts were gone to quickly and despite having plenty of chat left we decided to call it a night as we wanted to be up early to continue exploring the remaining nooks and crannies of the city. It would be only our second but unfortunately our last day in Melbourne before flying to Perth and we wanted to make the most of it. Anna had her car with her and dropped us back at the hotel where we fell into a deep post-parandial sleep.

Despite or best intentions we slept in and only had time to go on the 275. Vintage City Circle Tram which follows a different route to the bus tour but had the worse commentary ever and the volume was set to eleven on the speakers so after about the 4th stop when blood started trickling out of our ears we decided, or were more realistically forced by sonic waves, to get off the tram before our ear drums imploded. That aside, time was running short thanks to our long lie and we were due to meet up with our mate Laura.

We arrived in Fed Square just before she did and it seemed like ages had past since we were breakfasting in Barwon Heads. She was on good form and after a brief visit to some “can’t be missed” shops (which I thought could easily be missed both from the points of view that they were all secreted away in tiny dingy back streets and that they only sold bags and girls shoes) we were soon eating and drinking again. I swear that if I lived in Melbourne for a year I’d weigh about 24 stones by the time the first 6 months was up. As I said earlier “eat, drink and shop”. We’d done the last one to death and now it was time to hammer the first two indulgences. Here follows what I think sums up a typical day in Melbourne.

Lunch was in a top-notch restaurant called 276. Movida which was so popular that it had required Laura to book a table a week earlier. Regardless of the fact the entrance was hidden down a grotty alley way and hidden behind a dumpster and the cardboard box homes of a couple of tramps it was the kind of place that was full of lunching suits. Nothing on the tapas-style menu was cheap and as an example they had a plate of jambon which was $20 for 20 grams! – which we thought “what the hell” and ordered. In fact we had about 7 or 8 different tapas and splashed out on an evil dessert consisting of donut sticks and Belgium dipping chocolate and the most incredible crème brulee in history but that might have been the 2 jugs of fruity sangria talking.

We left there feeling overly sinful and in order to quash our guilt we went to straight for 277Coffee in De Graves Lane which didn’t make me feel any better so I had some more wine instead while Laura and Isla drank aromatic latte and rich hot chocolate respectively. This place, again, was tucked away from the outside world and oozed with the essence of Melbourne’s café culture and gave us the perfect vantage point to people watch and while away the next couple of hours.

The girls wanted to look in a few more shops so we left the comfort of the coffee house and traipsed round some other boutiques (which I’m sure were the same as the ones we were in earlier) and after sufficient huffing and puffing by me they relented and agreed that cocktails in 278. Hairy Canary would be a better use of our time. We did take a walk down past the Yarra River first which gave us some first rate views of the city sky line although these were obscured by the strangely isolated ferris wheel that stood by itself on the banks of the Yarra like a cheap London Eye imitation for achondroplastics.

There was also plenty of “situational art” including the 279. Federation Bells which were chiming just as we arrived. It was very surreal standing in amongst them as they clattered crazily and one sounded like a bird had got trapped inside and was now being hammered to death as that particular bell tried desperately to keep up with his automated pals. I’m not really sure if there was a particular tune that was programmed into them but I’d say it had a hint of freestyle jazz what ever it was.

When we reached Hairy Canary their cocktail list was extensive and we were lucky to get the last seats before it became rammed with office workers having post-work drinkies. We only had a couple of cocktails which we savoured while we nibbled Turkish flat bread and dips.

We were beginning to get hungry again and the flat bread just wasn’t cutting it. There were no available tables in the restaurant part so we sadly had to leave in search of something more filling. This took us to one of Laura’s favourite places which was multi-story building containing several bars and restaurants. Our first stop was 280. Cookie which was a popular haunt for students and trendies alike. In fact we saw the bloke who used to play “Billy” in Neighbours and is now on that travesty of a medical drama House. The girls spent a lot of time swooning (which I’ll use to my advantage next time I’m in a bar and Salma Hayek walks in) but to all the blokes he just looked like a spotty teenager with his head up his arse. In fact I don’t think he was actually meeting anyone in there as he just seemed to pace round the place with that air of “I’m famous. Look at me!” hanging around him like a stinking cloud of smugness.

Eventually he pissed off and I could get on with having some chat with the girls and enjoying dinner. The menu was a real mix of things and I ended up having Thai Yellow Curry Snapper which was bloody amazing. Since the day was turning into a total hedonistic affair where expense was not a consideration (and “Billy’s” presence had given me a weird sense of needing to prove that I could afford something that I’d later regret from the massive wine list) we washed our meal down with a bottle of 281. Ashton Hills 2006 Pinot Noir which cost a ridiculous $50 but was spectacular. I made some speech about it being “totally worth it” and how it was “an amazing wine”. The girls just thought I was a moron.

I have to say that by this point I’m surprised that we were still going but when Laura said, “I’ve got another bar that I really have to show you” there wasn’t a peep of objection from either of us. We left Cookie and climbed about 10 flights of stairs to the top of the building and then continued up an external fire escape to the most unlikely of venues. On the roof was the unsurprisingly named 282. Rooftops Bar. Unlike it’s namesake in Glasgow this bar was quite a classy yet chilled out affair without a pair of white stilettos in sight. There was a chill in the air but the over head gas heaters and the mulled wine we were drinking soon dispatched the cold much like it would during an après ski driking session. The gluhwein did remind me of ski trips to the French Alps but the view was a bit different. From this vantage point we could see most of the city as it went about its nightly business oblivious to the three open-yawed piss-heads gawping down at it.

Laura’s boyfriend then turned up as he had just finished work. We were pretty much at the end of our staying power but since he had only just arrived it seemed a bit unfair for us to merely shake hands and say our goodbyes so with that we headed to 283. Toffs in the City for another drink. We ended up staying there for quite a while as each of the little booths could be closed off to provide an intimate and private cubicle that enticed us into staying longer. But even though the atmosphere improved our chat worsened and it wasn’t long before everyone had had enough and was ready to call it a night. Once again we were sadly saying goodbye to Laura and Gideon and after a short drink-induced coma-like sleep we were checking out of our hotel and of Melbourne. Onwards to Perth.