At around 10am I opened my eyes, refreshed and ready for a new day. Nobody else in my dorm was. I did feel bad about creating a bustle, getting dressed and packing my bag for the day, surely waking up at least one or two of the sleeping party animals. Karma got me back though. While washing my face and brushing my teeth in the shower room down the hall and leaving the door slightly ajar, someone must have gone to the bathroom and closed it behind them. Of course, it had slipped my mind to bring my key card, as that is not the first thing one thinks about after waking up in the morning. So there I was, locked out of my room with nothing but my face wash and toothbrush. I knocked quietly, but didn’t dare to bang on the door after nobody came to open it. To pass some time, I just brushed my teeth again and waited till the next person had to go to the bathroom. Thankfully, the only other Asian roommate was also arising and getting ready and I caught the door just in time. With very clean teeth.
The agenda for the day was a trip up to the Queen Victoria Market, about 15 minutes from my hostel. As I walked up the empty streets, the sun was slowly but very surely warming up the day and it reminded me strongly of watching spring chase away summer in Berlin or even autumn afternoons in Munich. The market was immense – endless halls filled with endless stalls. It’s open every day of the week from around 6am to 2pm or 3pm, except for Friday when it turns into a night market. Tourists and Melbourners alike come from all over the city to shop for fruits and vegetables, meat and seafood, wines and delicacies and even clothes. The most colorful stand were meant to catch the visitors’ eyes, as they sold souvenirs like boomerangs, didgeridoos, t-shirts, magnets, stuffed kangaroos and koalas and aboriginal art. Some stalls looked familiar, being very similar to some you might find in markets all over the world – the incense and crystals stand, the wooden Chinese massage apparatus stand or the fake soccer jersey stand. Others were definitely more Australia-bound, like the Ugg boots stand or the Australian Fire Opals stand. My feet would probably thank me for the warmth and comfort Uggs would provide at the moment and I’m also sure I would fall in love with them if I just started wearing them, but I just can’t get myself to buy a pair. One, they are big and bulky to lug around the country and two, I get the feeling my feel look like elephant-feet when I wear them, although this is not the case for all the others I see walking around in them here (and everywhere). Between the produce and the clothes and accessories, on a little square, a four-man band called La Rhumba played all morning. A husky voice, a melodious harmony accompanied by Spanish guitar. There never ceased to be a large crowd gathered around them, listening. And at some point, two little children starting dancing in the middle, much to the amusement of the band and the entertainment of the audience. Because I still haven’t really gotten the hang of the prices here, still finding everything way too expensive, my purchases were limited to a new belly ring (because I realized that I’m travelling without a spare), strawberries (250g for 2,50$/1,75Euro) and a bar of choco-mint fudge which just looked too darn good to leave sitting on that beautiful display of at least 30 different kinds of fudge.
Walking back home, I took a long way, looking to pass through the patches of green on my trusty tourist map. The parks are clean and well maintained, usually with a piece of artwork rising up in some corner near the playground or at the entrance. On my walk through one, a most delicious smell came whafting towards me and around the bend I witnessed the first Aussie Barbie (BBQ) of my trip. And they really know what they’re doing – the table loaded with a cooler of cold drinks, all the condiments you can imagine, the meat marinated to perfection, the smell alone made my mouth water and my stomach grumble.
One of my last important things to do (aside from looking for a job and making some travel plans) was to buy a travel guide. I found a travel book shop and now own a copy of the Lonely Planet’s guide to East Coast Australia. And I can’t wait to start reading and planning. My preliminary plan, which actually includes more travelling than working, is to make my way down to Adelaide, up to Alice Springs (because it would just be silly to travel Australia and not see Ayers Rock and the Outback), all the way up to Darwin and then find my way back down to Sydney via the coast. This plan does however require some time and finance management and depends on these to be put into action. Good thing the travel shop in my and every other hostel here in the city offer tours that pretty much cover that route – Melbourne to Adelaide via the Ocean Road, Adelaide to Alice Springs via the Outback…etc.
I decided to pass by the river boardwalk again before finally heading back to the hostel. It was noon, the sun was out and the seagulls were begging noisily for food from the many people enjoying lunch by the murky brown water. I even got offered some sushi by the girl sharing my bench. I was also offered some lessons in Latin dancing by a guy whom I almost laughed out loud at for asking “Haven’t we met before, you know, a few weeks ago…?” Haha, I guess the classics are international and never get old. At least he was the first to guess that I was a mix of something European.
After only 3 days in Melbourne, the city is starting to grow on me. My sense of orientation is also improving, having looked at a map only twice to get back to the hostel. The city centre is made up of a relatively simple grid of crisscrossing streets and alleys. The city is welcoming while still giving off an aura of closed community, it dances to its own beat, proud of its individuality. Melbourne’s personality is vibrant but relaxed, modern yet traditional. On every street you will find people from all walks of life and various different cultures and even more so than in Berlin or any other multicultural city, integration seems a given.
While sitting by the water, taking notes, my trusty silver pen a very good friend in Berlin gave me finally gave up. Always sad to have to retire a special pen that has accompanied me on a journey. Then I realized that the next trusty pen I whipped out of my bag was also given to me by my fellow Pinay soul in Berlin, so either way, she is with me in every word I write. Thanks, Natty.
Back at the hostel, I started my first Skype session sitting in the travel shop by the reception. Despite big earphones and finding a computer all the way in a corner, it is strange having a conversation with anywhere between 2 and 12 people in the same room. Plus, you never know who might understand you, there are quite a few Germans in this town. For example the one who stopped me on the stairs, asked about the internet and then invited to a night out on the town. Glad to not be the first back in bed on a Saturday night, I accepted and got ready. This hot shower was not quite as enjoyable, because the whole hostel seemed to be taking a shower at the same time. I either had freezing water or scalding hot, no in-betweens…
Before hitting the streets, we had dinner in another hostel, where friends of his were staying. I guess for a bit more money one can really get a bit more – a larger kitchen, free wi-fi, more security, carpeted hallways, a bigger common room with more sofas, a pool table… But oh well, I guess I shouldn’t start my trip with big spending. My first “home”-cooked meal consisted of a huge pot of pasta – definitely better than microwavable soups or instant Mac ‘n Cheese. Dishwashing and a few beers later, three guys and I took off and walked around aimlessly for a bit before settling in an open air bar with heaters, spray painted walls and a cable car as bar. From there we headed to a restaurant-turned-bar in a mall, which was comfortably full and played everything from mainstream pop to old school-ish hip hop. While going out for a smoke, I was once again confronted with how small this world truly is. While I’m torturing people with my slowly disintegrating French, one of the guys I was with finds out, by way of talking-to-random-strangers-on-escalators, that one of the guys is German as well. He turn to introduce me and I find myself standing in front of someone who used to go to the German School Manila with me, way back when. Both our eyes popped out of their sockets and we stood there kind of perplexed, like it was all just a strange dream. How random… The night ended at sunrise, with me not able to sleep because by the time I was under my covers, my roommates decided it was time to get up. One after the other in a steady concession they got or (literally) fell out of bed (the guy in the bunk above me landed with a crash) and made enough noise to hinder deep sleep.
Lest I have to say that my Sunday consisted of a truly lazy afternoon and early night. The boardwalk seems to have a magnetic pull on me, because that’s where my daily walk took me once again on that sunny afternoon – passed the bizarre Winterfest including an ice skating rink on which it snows, an Octoberfest tent flying the Bavarian flag and a stand selling “original” Currywurt and Bratwurst with Sauerkraut, street shows by the youngest sword swallowing, fire juggling contortionist, break-dancers, clowns and a large group of youngsters training Parcour.
Notes: Always carry your key card on you, but if you don’t, you will have the cleanest teeth in town. La Rumba. Uggs. Must join an Aussie BBQ. Beer won’t give you a hangover when consumed responsibly. I heart Melbourne.
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