Melbourne down and up

So, NIN was good, sure.

The other bands I saw? good, sure.

The dust and straw in such high winds? not. as. such.

Going to Melbourne at the last minute, when the only familiar faces are NIN, who, if they recognize me at all, likely think I'm a potential stalker? Well, I've done dumber things.

Trying to find a room in Melbourne at midnight was unfun.

The one hostel (that i had the patience to find with the slow net connection) that had room had been totally panned by pseydtonne. The remaining options were pricey, (the 5-star Hyatt really, really pricey). I managed to find somewhere central (a.k.a. CBD). But, yeah... the whole situation made me appreciate my Sydney hosts all the more, and regret going to Melbourne at all. It definitely made the whole weekend more expensive than going to Uluru would've been... so I was overflowing with the pointlessness of regret.

The next morning, lacking a plan (I'd forgotten to pick up a visitor's guide from the airport, since my flight had been delayed and I was in a rush. I also hadn't packed my laptop, so I felt extremely disconnected), I grabbed the hotel tourist fliers, find the cafe that had been recommended to me, and at least be able to drown my sorrows in what charleshaynes described as "possibly the best coffee in Australia."

I got off the tram at probably the right spot, but I was obviously lost enough that a kind local stopped to give me directions... to the nearby open market. (South market, not Victoria).  I should've said the cafe explicitly, as it turned out we were both went there... by different routes. As solo diners, we were "exiled" and thus reunited on a back porch (and y'all know how much I hate eating on porches... heh). I told her my plight, and she gave many good recommendations, which totally turned my trip around.

Super-genius forgot to get her name... but I did give her one of my postcards... (btw, most of my postcards have arrived stateside by now, if you haven't received one, try giving me your address... with zip code.)

With her recommendation, I headed to Melbourne's version of Bostix, got a half-price ticket to a play at the Arts center. Then proceeded to find some of the other coffee place she recommended. Along the way I figured out what she meant by "checking out the lanes".

Melbourne is known for its trams and alleys. The trams? Shrug. The alleys? Wow. The first one I encountered was all graffiti... protected/endorsed by the city. I'll get photos up ... "soon".

(Melbourne is also known for its various and sundry weather. Just because the day might peak at 90°F doesn't mean you won't find yourself cold and wet an hour later. I'd left my "jumpers" in Sydney. Big mistake. Although, it made for primo people-watching. Wintercoats AND flip-flops, often on the same person.)

Agonizingly, it seems like all the "attractions" (museums, gaol, etc.) close promptly at 5, as well as most of the downtown coffeeshops, which left me at odds until my show at 8:30. I hung out at a very touristy bar in Federation Square, listening to the Heather Stewart Trio, with a nice view of the dragonboats stored across the river (was waiting to see if they'd be brought out, and I'd run over. When I finally caved to a net cafe it was because I wanted to see if there was a practice on Sunday morning. There wasn't.)

The play Moonlight and Magnolias was chosen because the other discount shows were either [depressing-bonding-over-tragedy] or [really funny... if you like cricket]. I'm still not sure if it was good. It was set at the beginning of WWII and kept... "invoking Godwin", as it were.

I bailed on going to a late night club because (1) the queues were full of people cuter than myself (more hen parties, for one thing), who couldn't get in, and (2) I wanted to get an early morning go of the attractions. I did finally get that bath... the posh hotel had a hot tub. And a gym, but I opted out of a first 5K in weeks since I expected a day of walking. (And had only one pair of suitable socks, which probably should've been taken out and shot after I got back to Glebe.)

Checked out the Gaol the moment it opened, skipped the special guided show, and Victoria market, to rush up to Brunswick because I didn't realize the street festival wouldn't start until noon, and that breakfast at the Green Refrectory didn't take more than an hour.

Listened to live music for a while (Tim Scanlan, Hoodangers), finally bought some aboriginal work from the specific maker (cheaper, more personal). Then took the train to the 96 Tram to Luna Park, and the craft fair along the St. Kilda esplanade. Made it to the NGV in time for a quick browse, and obligatory interaction with the water wall.

Most of the rest of what I could do between then and grabbing the aiport bus was just hang out in one of the few cafes open after 5, and take random tram rides to justify the cost of the day pass.

I wonder how much I'm actually spending on things like bus fares. The exchange rate makes it hard to really translate. Hell, I'm still trying to get the hang of Celcius. It'll all be over soon. Too soon.

Melbourne down and up

So, NIN was good, sure.

The other bands I saw? good, sure.

The dust and straw in such high winds? not. as. such.

Going to Melbourne at the last minute, when the only familiar faces are NIN, who, if they recognize me at all, likely think I'm a potential stalker? Well, I've done dumber things.

Trying to find a room in Melbourne at midnight was unfun.

The one hostel (that i had the patience to find with the slow net connection) that had room had been totally panned by pseydtonne. The remaining options were pricey, (the 5-star Hyatt really, really pricey). I managed to find somewhere central (a.k.a. CBD). But, yeah... the whole situation made me appreciate my Sydney hosts all the more, and regret going to Melbourne at all. It definitely made the whole weekend more expensive than going to Uluru would've been... so I was overflowing with the pointlessness of regret.

The next morning, lacking a plan (I'd forgotten to pick up a visitor's guide from the airport, since my flight had been delayed and I was in a rush. I also hadn't packed my laptop, so I felt extremely disconnected), I grabbed the hotel tourist fliers, find the cafe that had been recommended to me, and at least be able to drown my sorrows in what charleshaynes described as "possibly the best coffee in Australia."

I got off the tram at probably the right spot, but I was obviously lost enough that a kind local stopped to give me directions... to the nearby open market. (South market, not Victoria).  I should've said the cafe explicitly, as it turned out we were both went there... by different routes. As solo diners, we were "exiled" and thus reunited on a back porch (and y'all know how much I hate eating on porches... heh). I told her my plight, and she gave many good recommendations, which totally turned my trip around.

Super-genius forgot to get her name... but I did give her one of my postcards... (btw, most of my postcards have arrived stateside by now, if you haven't received one, try giving me your address... with zip code.)

With her recommendation, I headed to Melbourne's version of Bostix, got a half-price ticket to a play at the Arts center. Then proceeded to find some of the other coffee place she recommended. Along the way I figured out what she meant by "checking out the lanes".

Melbourne is known for its trams and alleys. The trams? Shrug. The alleys? Wow. The first one I encountered was all graffiti... protected/endorsed by the city. I'll get photos up ... "soon".

(Melbourne is also known for its various and sundry weather. Just because the day might peak at 90°F doesn't mean you won't find yourself cold and wet an hour later. I'd left my "jumpers" in Sydney. Big mistake. Although, it made for primo people-watching. Wintercoats AND flip-flops, often on the same person.)

Agonizingly, it seems like all the "attractions" (museums, gaol, etc.) close promptly at 5, as well as most of the downtown coffeeshops, which left me at odds until my show at 8:30. I hung out at a very touristy bar in Federation Square, listening to the Heather Stewart Trio, with a nice view of the dragonboats stored across the river (was waiting to see if they'd be brought out, and I'd run over. When I finally caved to a net cafe it was because I wanted to see if there was a practice on Sunday morning. There wasn't.)

The play Moonlight and Magnolias was chosen because the other discount shows were either [depressing-bonding-over-tragedy] or [really funny... if you like cricket]. I'm still not sure if it was good. It was set at the beginning of WWII and kept... "invoking Godwin", as it were.

I bailed on going to a late night club because (1) the queues were full of people cuter than myself (more hen parties, for one thing), who couldn't get in, and (2) I wanted to get an early morning go of the attractions. I did finally get that bath... the posh hotel had a hot tub. And a gym, but I opted out of a first 5K in weeks since I expected a day of walking. (And had only one pair of suitable socks, which probably should've been taken out and shot after I got back to Glebe.)

Checked out the Gaol the moment it opened, skipped the special guided show, and Victoria market, to rush up to Brunswick because I didn't realize the street festival wouldn't start until noon, and that breakfast at the Green Refrectory didn't take more than an hour.

Listened to live music for a while (Tim Scanlan, Hoodangers), finally bought some aboriginal work from the specific maker (cheaper, more personal). Then took the train to the 96 Tram to Luna Park, and the craft fair along the St. Kilda esplanade. Made it to the NGV in time for a quick browse, and obligatory interaction with the water wall.

Most of the rest of what I could do between then and grabbing the aiport bus was just hang out in one of the few cafes open after 5, and take random tram rides to justify the cost of the day pass.

I wonder how much I'm actually spending on things like bus fares. The exchange rate makes it hard to really translate. Hell, I'm still trying to get the hang of Celcius. It'll all be over soon. Too soon.

the best tastes and scents

Right now, I'm smelling roasting garlic, and baking brownies. Chocolate and garlic are two awesome smells, but they trigger such different sorts of hunger as to be overwhelming together.

It calls to mind a great commentary by Penn Gillette that I mention frequently enough that I feel obliged to note it here.

From Maxim:
It doesn’t double the deliciousness to put bacon and chocolate together. It’s actually less good than having them separately. Bacon is so good by itself that to put it in any other food is an admission of failure. You’re basically saying, “I can’t make this other food taste good, so I’ll throw in bacon.” So bacon-wrapped scallops, for example, convey that you are unable to prepare scallops. You had to go to bacon. Chocolate has the same effect: You dip a shoe in chocolate, it’s gonna be pretty good. So putting the two of them together is totally unnecessary, because they’re both already 100 percent awesome. It’s the same reason nature makes it so that you can’t get a blow job and fuck at the same time.

Granted, I've like the chocolate and bacon combos I've had, but not as much as having them separately within minutes of each other. So I get his drift, as it were.

And now perhaps to go outside for a walk, and enjoy the smell of the flowers, and do my best to get a little sunburnt on the behalf of all my snowbound buddies (some of who've been msg'ing me to insist I enjoy the weather while i've got it, dammit.)

the best tastes and scents

Right now, I'm smelling roasting garlic, and baking brownies. Chocolate and garlic are two awesome smells, but they trigger such different sorts of hunger as to be overwhelming together.

It calls to mind a great commentary by Penn Gillette that I mention frequently enough that I feel obliged to note it here.

From Maxim:
It doesn’t double the deliciousness to put bacon and chocolate together. It’s actually less good than having them separately. Bacon is so good by itself that to put it in any other food is an admission of failure. You’re basically saying, “I can’t make this other food taste good, so I’ll throw in bacon.” So bacon-wrapped scallops, for example, convey that you are unable to prepare scallops. You had to go to bacon. Chocolate has the same effect: You dip a shoe in chocolate, it’s gonna be pretty good. So putting the two of them together is totally unnecessary, because they’re both already 100 percent awesome. It’s the same reason nature makes it so that you can’t get a blow job and fuck at the same time.

Granted, I've like the chocolate and bacon combos I've had, but not as much as having them separately within minutes of each other. So I get his drift, as it were.

And now perhaps to go outside for a walk, and enjoy the smell of the flowers, and do my best to get a little sunburnt on the behalf of all my snowbound buddies (some of who've been msg'ing me to insist I enjoy the weather while i've got it, dammit.)