A very relaxed day indeed, with a 4:30am start and a "dawn tredder" flight.
After the return trip from Hobart to Melbourne, I dropped my bags off at the Metro Youth Hostel and ventured out to see the town. The first stop was right around the corner at the neighborhood pub for lunch. Melbourne still maintains the venerated pub tradition of great drink and more importantly great food at reasonable prices. I had muttonchops with chips (fries) and salad, all for just over $10 Australian. It was truly outstanding and provided the energy for the walk downtown.
The objective was to find gators to replace my now shredded 23 year-old pair, to put some miles into my legs, and enjoy the city. Melbourne is a fantastic city. What Sydney prizes in scenery Melbourne owns in character.
The city has a European flair and is home to Australia’s fashion industry. Two sporting events are twin jewels in the city’s crown, the Australian Tennis Open and the Melbourne Cup Horse Race. It just so happened that today was Melbourne Cup eve spawning many traditions. With great pomp and circumstance horses are paraded down the center of town to a cheering and respectable crowd. The Melbourne Cup is the fashion pinnacle of the year, with gents suited in styles from the very sleek Armani vintage to full cut but tidy English morning jackets and vests. Women wear great gowns and sundresses complete with enormous hats to topple the strongest of stiff necks. The irony of it all is that tomorrow they will be completely “pissed” to quote a local. In spite of all the regalia, and proper appearances the Melbourne Cup is actually closer to a frat party than a Wimbledon match with strawberries and cream. The televised sundress/gown competition is immediately followed by shots of stumbling, sometimes “face planting” in the grass divas. Be careful not to pass cultural judgment, because this is all very respectable and part of the pageantry. Its not race day until one has become undone.
While down town I witnessed something that truly warmed my heart. A Mom and son team were holding signs announcing "Free Hugs". It was truly awesome to watch the response from rushing teens to a septigenarian inching his way across the square one cane stride at a time to eventually and determinedly gain a hug. I could do an entire post on these pictures alone. (If Raeleans can give free hugs, maybe we each could reach out a little more.)
After watching the sun set from the roof of the hostel, I ventured back out to my lunchtime pub for a follow-up great dinner. The place was absolutely packed with 18-20 year old kids having some sort of extreme mountain biking party (kind of a non sequiter in the rolling flatlands known as Australia). A table opened up near the bar and separated from the dining room activity, so I moved quickly to arrive at the same time as a family of three (Two college kids and their Mom). What to do? No worries, this is Australia, share. We had a great time together and ended up closing the place down after the extreme kids called it a night.
2 comments:
I was enjoying this blog until the reference to 23-year-old gators reminded me of how old my best man is getting. It's possible that the age (i.e. hipness) gap between us may be getting too large for our continued association and that really bums me out...
With age is "supposed" to come wisdom, so mind your elder of roughly 24 hours, and remember that as long as you can do that special "Todd dance" you will always be "hip". That is unless you were referring to my "hipness" denegration... Haaa.
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