What
struck us most on our arrival in Australia’s second largest city was its
diversity and multiculturalism. The sidewalks teem with people of all races, nationalities,
sizes and shapes. Walking is sometimes difficult with the jostling and weaving
to make your way through. The tourists (us) and the locals all move in
different ways. We naturally want to move to our right (likely based on our
driving habits back home) when confronting others who are walking towards us. Meanwhile,
the locals want to move to their left (based on the way they drive here).
Awkward encounters and dance moves ensue.
To
further add to the chaos, buskers and itinerant merchants all compete for
sidewalk space or a corner in a public square. On one block, a man was playing
a didgeridoo, an instrument used by the Aboriginal people of Australia. One
block over, a funky, long haired man sang and played his guitar. At a
nearby corner, a dude with harmonica in hand played the blues to an audience of
one, me.
Like
most places in the world, the young people here look and act similar. Many walk
along while looking down at their phones frustrating those of us who attempt
our own travels. They think they’re successfully multi-tasking. But it is us
non-phone users, not them, who are moving out of the way to avoid a collision. Can’t
their Facebook or Instagram feeds wait?
Some
with earphones are ensconced in their own little world tuning out the noises
around them. Others are loud and boisterous, welcoming with open arms the
friends they are meeting. Meanwhile, a man next to me decides to expel a
monstrous sneeze and, with no where to move and no time to react, I walk right into the suspended
and hovering cloud of his lingering spray.
Elsewhere,
a young woman with blue, cotton candy-colored hair holds hands with her heavily
tattooed boyfriend. Another woman in tight leather pants and silver platform
shoes walks beside her male friend in skinny jeans and tennis shoes. A lady
walks out of a liquor store, kneels on the sidewalk, and fills her hard-sided
suitcase with her wine purchase. A beer-bellied man, unkempt and unshaven,
drunkenly looks on while his cigarette burns down to a nub between his scarred
fingers. School-aged children walk in groups, all with uniforms unique to their
school. And, like elsewhere, there are those down on their luck looking for a
few coins to help them get by for the day.
The
types and variety of shops and stores located throughout the area is
staggering. During our three-day stay, we notice Korean, Chinese, Japanese,
Indian, Malaysian, Mexican, British, and other restaurants are all located
here, oftentimes right next to each other. Need money from an ATM? There’s one
just about everywhere you look. How about a massage? Take your pick for there
are Chinese, Japanese or a variety of other types to choose from. Department
stores are plenty. Many brands, including US brands like Target, are
represented her. Book stores? There are plenty -bought one for myself from the
bargain shelf. Sex shops? If you’re into that sort of thing, there are several
to choose from. Are you in need of hypnotherapy or naturopathy? There’s a store
for that. Need a colonic irrigation? Come to Melbourne for you can get that
here too.
The
infrastructure and movement of vehicles catches my attention. My old city
planning ways surface and I can’t help myself as I notice how the many free trams
traverse the center of the streets and how cars must turn right from the far
left lanes (a “hook turn,” perhaps unique only in Melbourne) to avoid conflicts
with those trams. Parking spaces are located down the middle lanes on some of
the minor streets. In the middle lanes of the major streets are the stations
and platforms for the trams. Bicyclists weave in and out of traffic while pedestrians
diligently obey the walk-don’t walk signs. It sounds and looks so complicated
but somehow it all works.
The
Queen Victoria Market buzzes with an efficient and no-nonsense type of activity.
Like most markets around the world, this one too had its fishmongers, charcuteries,
bread makers, and vegetable stands. There are also the retail merchants of
every type. We learned they don’t like
to bargain though when we tried to talk down the price on some trinkets we
feigned interest in.
The
city’s laneways are a hub of activity. Prior to the 1990’s, they were nothing
more than back alleys used for deliveries and trash bins waiting to be removed.
Now, they are full of restaurants, shops, and hidden corners where street art
and the creative class flourish.
By
contrast, the Yarra riverfront and promenades offer a respite from the noise
and buzz of the city. Palm trees grace the shoreline. Athletes practice in
their rowing sculls. Pleasantly designed pedestrian bridges crisscross the
water. It was nearing the end of our last day when I ducked into a bar called
“Good Heavens,” for a restorative pint. My first comment was “good heavens”
when I’m told the cost is $14. I mention this to the bloke sitting alone on a
nearby bar stool. We strike up a conversation and learn that both of our wives
have wandered off to window shop or, more likely, spend some “alone time” away
from us husbands. While waiting for their return, we spend the next hour
solving the world’s problems.
Comments
Post a Comment