Stupid Adventures

stupidadventures

This was part of a float in the Melbourne Fringe Festival parade. I saw it and I ran after it with my camera because I thought it was so apt.

Yes, I went to Melbourne and I had many stupid adventures.

Sometimes my digital camera went along for the ride. Here are some of the adventures I had:

Stupid Adventures: Fringe Festival Parade

Viva Brunswick Street!

brunswickst

To mark the start of the Melbourne Fringe Festival, there was a parade held down Brunswick Street. Brunswick Street is approximately the coolest street in the entire universe. It is the home of PolyEster Books, which is the coolest bookshop in the entire universe.

Hey Slag

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There was a cage with a couple of slappers in it fighting each other. I think there may have been some kind of Melbourne injoke happening that I missed. I love the “Hey Slag” stop sign. I want one for my lounge.

Naked Man

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I looked up and there was a naked man walking a dog. He had “Is it art?” painted on his chest, and “No butts about it” on his back. Good on him. Everyone was staring at his donger. I would have taken a photo of it, but my camera was on playback mode, so I only got his arse.

Less than a week later I saw another manpenis. It the infamous “show us your bits” incident at the National Young Writers Festival. During a spoken word performance, the emcee got the audience to yell out “show us ya bits!” when each performer took to the mike. One dude got up there, unzipped his pants and showed everyone his bits.

The Parade

parade
The parade was lots of fun. It was mostly people promoting various shows and performances that were part of the Fringe Festival. I think it was the most enjoyable parade I’ve been too. There were hotdogs too, which was choice.

Lovely Lady

slapper

There was a lovely lady in the parade. As she got down to where I was someone yelled out for her to sing a song, so she launched into “Fitzroy, Fitzroy” a celebration of the suburb we were in. My favourite line was, “I wanna wake up in the suburb that never wakes up!” Along came a guy walking on his hands. Very good.

St. K.F.C.

stkfc

This was a float promoting a play that had something to do with the St Kilda Saints, the AFL team of St Kilda. I like the Saints, cos their initials are “St. K.F.C.” Like there’s a patron saint of fried chicken.

One cool thing about Australia, particularly Melbourne, is how footy isn’t just the domain of bogans. Really cool, arty people dig football too.

Stupid Adventures: Nine One One

Prayer Vigil

prayervigil

September 11 happened when I was in Melbourne. This sign was outside St Augustine’s Church, a Catholic Church on Bourke Street.

Church and Tower

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This is St Augustine’s Church with the Rialto Tower, Melbourne’s tallest building, in the background. It’s like, really symbolic, or something.

Fire

flameon

I was waiting for the 96 tram on Spencer Street, just outside the Crown Casino. There’s a walkway that runs along the banks of the Yarra River, and the casino building is on the other side of that. Along the walkway are a number of small towers (about 5 metres tall, I think) and they have water running down the side of them.

Anyway, suddenly there was this loud “whoomp!” noise and a bright flash of light. I turned around and there were flames shooting from the top of these towers. Sometimes just one tower, sometime all of the towers.

The eerie thing was that from the distance I was standing, the towers had about the same proportions as the two World Trade Center towers. To see them with flames shooting out of the top felt really strange. Maybe normally it would have been quite exciting, it might have caused a few people to say “oooh!” but that night all the other people watching at the tram stop were strangely quiet.

US Consulate

consulate

I was on the 16 tram going down St Kilda Road. It’s a long tree-line boulevard, but also the location of large office buildings. I noticed one building had a whole lot of bunches of flowers and stuff outside it.

A couple of days later, on the same tram, I got off and took a closer look. It was the United States Consulate, and indeed the garden and front of the building were almost completely covered with bouquets of flowers, signs, cards and bad poetry.

Stupid Adventures: Smack

Needle Disposal

syringes

New Zealand doesn’t have a massive heroin problem. Apparently Christchurch is where all the smackheads are (!). But it’s there in Australia. Most public toilets in Mebourne had yellow biohazard needle disposal boxes. This one was at the Victorian Art Gallery.

There were other signs too. The beach at St Kilda was raked every day to remove any needles left there. A local burger restaurant had a sign on the toilet door saying that junkies needn’t bother asking for the toilet key.

Blue Lights

bluelights

An alternative to the needle disposal boxes is to make it difficult for junkies to shoot up in toilets. This is done by having blue lighting, which I think is meant to make it hard to find veins.

This toilet, in an aracde on Lygon Street, had blue lights. However, there was a window on the far wall, meaning that the cubical nearest that got a lot of natural light. So I guess if you were wanting to shoot up there, there wouldn’t be much stopping you.

Skanc

skanc

Ah yeah, see you down at the Skanc for a pint, me old cobber. That’s the St Kilda Army and Navy Club. But oh my, what a wonderful acronym!

The George

thegeorge

This is The George and it’s on Fitzroy Street. It’s a really cool old hotel. All the paint is peeling off it, but it looks so much better like that than if it would if it was freshly painted. Next to it (obscured by the tree) is the George Cinema, for all your cinematic requirements.

Fitzroy Street

fitzroy

This is more of Fitzroy Street. That Burger King suddenly appeared overnight. There were no “coming soon!” signs. There were hordings up, then suddenly one day they came down and there it was. I think this may have been because there’s been a bit of opposition to the appearance of big burger restaurants in the area. Stealthy! But anyway, the building next to it is nice.

Stupid Adventures: Dominant Paradigm Subversion

Stop Mural Experiments

stopmural

This piece of graffiti makes me happy. It is raging against all those community murals designed by committee that are so determined to include something for everyone, that they end up with nothing much for anyone.

As far as I can tell, the graffiti has been up there for a few years and no one’s made any attempt to paint over it.

Nike

nike

Every Friday a group of protesters gather outside the big Nike store on the corner of Bourke and Swanston Streets and protest against child labour, capitalism and all the other stuff they read about in “No Logo”.

When the protests started they were intended as a blockade to stop people entering the store, but Nike got the police in, so every Friday a few police stand at the door while a bunch of hippies give out pamphlets.

Marvellously Authentic

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I think it’s a traffic controller box. Someone has decided that they are ugly as they are and got a local artist to spruce it up. I was waiting for the 96 or the 16 tram on the corner of Bourke and Swanston Streets and I saw that someone had cleverly written “how marvellously inauthentic this mural is” on top of it. The great thing is that it blends in so well that looks like it’s actually part of the mural. It’s only when you look closely that you can see it’s written in correction fluid, not paint.

Olympic Training

loseweight

This is on a wall outside Luna Park. It’s obviously been there for for at least a year, and yet no one has called in the local graffiti removal crew. I think it’s beautiful, both parodying those lose weight/make money signs that people put up around the place, and a call to arms for angry citizens sick of all the Olympics hype.

Stupid Adventures: Footscray

Footscray Station

footscraystn

Seen “Romper Stomper,” the 1992 movie about a bunch of skinheads, starring Russell Crowe? That was set in Footscray, so I wanted to go there and see if it was like it was in the movie.

Footscray was not all blue and gloomy. It was bright and sunny.

No Skinheads

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I saw no skinheads in Footscray, but I saw many Vietnamese. It feels very exotic, like maybe I was in some country in South East Asia. Except for the Victorian state licence plates.

Footscray Markets

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The Footscray Markets rule. There are plenty of markets around Melbourne that sell similar stuff to the Footscray markets. But unlike the Queen Victoria or Prahran markets, tourists don’t normally go to the Footscray Markets. They have their priorities right: meat on one side, everything else on the other.

Blossoms

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This photo is a bit boring because it was getting late in the day and there was no direct sunshine. But yay, pretty pink blossoms in Footscray!

Mural

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This is a version of the fairly standard community mural. It runs the gamut, from pre-European times, the arrival of the white man, early days and modern times. It looks fairly sturdy, so if some angry skinheads attacked it, it’d remain standing.

Stupid Adventures: Miscellaneous Melbourne

Commit No Nusance

commitnonusance

This was a little street off Bourke Street. Someone had gone to the trouble to paint “COMMIT NO NUISANCE” on the wall. Would this work? If there were a bunch of drunken hooligans on their way to see a game down the road at Colonial Stadium, would they see that and say, “Oh hey guys, not here. Let’s take our bad behaviour around the corner.”

Anti-Cancer

anticancer

The Anti-Cancer Council is a far more sensible name than the Cancer Society. Wow, maybe all the cancer societies around the world are really pro-cancer? Or maybe it’s a society for people who were born between June 22 and July 22.

Gog and Magog

gogmagog

These two fellows are Gog and Magog and they live at the end of the Royal Arcade which runs between Bourke and Little Collins Streets. When I visited Melbourne ten years ago (right when the Coode Island fires were happening) I took a photo of this and eventually I’ll remember where it is, scan it and stick it up here.

BHP

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I think this is the BHP building. I took this picture from Spencer Street Station. I think it looks bleak. It inspires bad poetry.

Foxy Ladies

foxyladies

This was on the side of a pub in Spotswood. There was a movie called “Spotswood” which also featured Russell Crowe. Spotswood has this pub, a bunch of factories and Scienceworks, the science museum. It’s like, you get to Spotswood, then you leave.

Westgate Bridge

westgate

What’s big and grey and squashes lunch boxes? The Westgate Bridge. Ha ha! That’s hilarious because in 1970 when the Westgate Bridge was being built something went horribly wrong and part of it collapsed killing 35 construction workers and assumingly 35 lunchboxes too.

Do Not Spit

donotspit
Spitting must have been enough of a problem at Flinders Street Station for someone to paint “DO NOT SPIT” on the wall. I don’t think the sign really works all that well, cos it looks like it’s been spat upon.

Graffiti

moorabbin

This is some graffiti just down the tracks from the Moorabbin train station, and just down the road from the Ikea store. I include it here to make things look gritty and urban.

Moorabbin Station

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More urban grit. This time in the form of my leg, the train station shelter, someone’s almost-empty bottle of Ribena and “WET PAINT” chalked on the ground.

Choose

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“Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarassment to the selfish, fucked-up brats you have spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life.”
– “Trainspotting” script, Irvine Welsh and John Hodge, 1996

“Choose Cadbury”
– Cadbury advertisements, 2001

Lygon Street

lygonst

Lygon Street: it’s full of good things, such as Italian Restaurants, the Vic Roads office (where I got a Victorian drivers licence), and Cinema Nova. I saw a preview of “Lantana” screened there. Four of the actors came and talked before the film, which was rather special.

Stupid Adventures: Public Transport

Trains

spencerstst

Hey, let’s talk about Melbourne’s public tranport: it rocks! This is Spencer Street station (and a lovely lens flare). I caught a few trains from here, my word yes. When I was hooning out to the Ikea store, I got the Frankston train and got off at the Moorabbin station (which meant travelling to a zone 2 station on my zone 1 ticket). But a couple of times I got the Werribee train.

Futura Tram

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There’s a new futura tram being introduced to Melbourne. It’s a low ridin’ one, which is good for old ladies. This is the 96 going up Bourke Street to East Brunswick. I never got to ride on one of the new trams, though.

Spencer Street Station

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This is the view from a seat at Spencer Street station. I took this while I was waiting for the Werribee train. Note the use of yellow and green in the station sign. That is because those are the national colours of Australia. I guess it’s more interesting than black and white.

Waiting

flindersst

Most the the time the trains ran with a Mussolini-like precision. But sometimes they didn’t. This was one of those times. It was Saturday, and all these people had been at the Royal Melbourne Show thing and the train they were waiting for at Flinders Street Station had been delayed. So they all hung out with their bags of goodies waiting for their train.

Tram Art

arttram
As part of the Fringe Festival, a number of trams had some sentences in orange letters written across them. This is one that was on Swanston Street, outside the Victorian Library. I can’t remember what it said, probably something very cool.

Trams

trams

Here are a bunch of standard, run-of-the-mill trams at the St Kilda interchange. The grey one in front is the 96, which used to be my favourite tram until I discovered the 112. The far one is the 69, and the middle one might be the 16.

I was talking to a guy at the NYWF. He was orignally from Wellington, but was now in Melbourne at university. We were talking about how incredibly cool the trams are. I think it’s due being able to travel without buying a ticket (even though you’re supposed to), so heaps of crazy people get on board. It’s also due to the open layout of the trams. Because they go in both directions, the seats are in pairs facing each other. It’s almost like sitting at a booth in a diner. Trams are good on an almost spiritual level.

(That’s all.)

The Next Day

The next day, after having stayed up until 4.00 am listening to news reports on the BBC’s web site, and switching between regularly updated news sites, I took a bunch of laundry down to the local laundromat to be cleaned.

While I was waiting for my clothes to be washed, I went for a walk around the local shops. Everyone looked glum. I walked past people sitting at tables outside cafes and could hear them talking about it.

I went into the newsagents and for the first time in months I bought a newspaper – two, in fact. Both front pages featured huge photos of the flaming, smoking towers. “War on America”, “WAR OF TERROR”, special editions and red ink. Maybe seeing it unfold on my computer monitor didn’t make it seem real, but holding that pile of newsprint in my hands, touching the photo of the fireball seemed to confirm what was true.

I stopped off at a cafe. There was a radio playing and a pre-recorded piece came on where they played a selection of calls received from the public earlier that morning. An upset-sounding woman spoke of how she woke up her daughters in the middle of the night to tell them what had happened. I was thinking, why didn’t she just wait until the morning and let them get a good night’s sleep? But then I realised that she had needed to talk to someone.

Back at the laundromat, I watched the TV. It’s normally on a music video channel, but that day it had been switched to channel Nine, which was showing ABC coverage from America as well as local commentary.

Behind me, a drunk guy who had seen the TV from the street stumbled in.

“Are they still bombing America,” he slurred. No one looked at him or answered his question, all eyes still on the TV. He asked the same question again so I curtly replied, “there are no bombs involved.” “Well the bloody aeroplanes then. I suppose that’s what you do if you haven’t got any money, eh?” Sick of him, I ignored him. He turned and left, quietly saying, “good on them.”

I continued to watch the TV. Endless replay of plane two, the collapses, the Pentagon. An old lady sitting down from me asked, “what do you think about that?” “It’s shocking,” I replied, realising that this was the first time I’d be genuinely shocked about something in years. “Have you been to America,” she asked. It was hard to carry on a conversation over the noise of the TV and the laundry machines, but I replied, “Yes, I went to Los Angeles.” “Eh?” I moved closer and repeated, “I’ve been to Los Angeles.”

“Ah, when was that?”
“1993.”
“Have you been to New York.”
“No, but I’ve always wanted to. I’d always wanted to go up the World Trade Center.”
“Eh?”
“I’d always wanted to visit the World Trade Center.”
“Where’s that then?”
“It’s in New York. It’s the building that was hit by the aeroplanes and collapsed.”
“Where you there when that happened?”
“No. I wasn’t.”

I couldn’t stand being a participant in this painful conversation for much longer. I excused myself to get my clothes from the drier, then left.

I got back, turned on my computer, and the World Trade Center was still a pile of rubble.

Melbourne: Part Two – The Fold-Out Couch

A couple of months ago I decided to move to Melbourne. Whenever I told people I was going there, a conversation like this usually took place:

Robyn: I’m moving to Melbourne.
Person: Really? Have you got a job there.
Robyn: No.
Person: Oh, is it just a holiday?
Robyn: No.
Person: So what are you going to be doing there?
Robyn: I don’t know.
Person: Errrr… [implodes with confusion]

What it really came down to was I was really bored with doing very little in Auckland, so I thought it would be more interesting to be doing very little in Melbourne. So far that’s been proven true.

(Actually, just as a side note, when I say “doing very little”, I am using the literary technique of hyperbole. I don’t literally mean that I am doing very little, indeed there are not enough hours in the day for me to do all that I want to do. But you knew that, right?)

Melbourne is cool but everywhere you go there are reminders that society has a Serious Heroin Problem. Blue lights in toilets to make finding a vein hard, yellow needle disposal boxes when the vein is easy to find. The sign in the restaurant that says they don’t give out the toilet key to junkies. It’s all very urban and gritty, y’know.

Movies are more expensive here. A full price adult ticket in New Zealand is NZ$12.00, but here I have to pay around NZ$17.00, which totally sucks arse. But the good thing is there a quite a few cool independent theatres that play good films and don’t charge a lot. Sweet as.

Actually, I saw two incredibly cool movies that I possibly wouldn’t have had the opportunity to see in New Zealand.

The first was “The Crimson Rivers (Les Rivieres Pourpres),” which I saw the trailer for in New Caledonia. It was so cool. It was a fairly standard psycho killer thriller, but Vincent Cassel was in it, so that obviously elevated it to a new level of cool.

The other film I saw was “Nsync: Bigger Than Live,” which is an IMAX film of Nsync performing live in concert from the “No Strings Attached” tour. I saw this in Sydney, and it excited me. Not many films do that. I never thought I would be, or could be, but I’m really into Nsync now. I’m not sure words can express how much I love Nsync.

Anyway, back to Melbourne. Trams are fun because there are lots of crazy people who take trams. I have all these crazy-people-on-trams observations I’ve been scribbling down. And I want to go to Footscray, which is where “Romper Stomper” was set, but I’m a bit scared (Why? Russell Crowe might give me the bash?).

Right. That’s quite enough from me. Just to summarise: I’m in Melbourne, Nsync rule.

Tram Tales

One of the things I like about Melbourne is the trams. Given that my experience with public transport has been limited to buses (and yay for the Auckland bus driver who said to the guy who pointed out that the light had changed to green, “sit down and shut up”), trams are a wonderful thing.

Melbourne trams are quite fun to ride on. They are quieter than buses, so there are many opportunities to overhear interesting conversations. All the ticket sales are automated, so it’s possible to go for a ride and not buy a ticket, which is why trams seem to be the transport of choice for crazy people.

Over the past few weeks I’ve been stealthfully taking notes of all the interesting stuff that’s happened on trams. So, if you please, here are some tram tales:

The Apartment Building

The tram passed by a building site where a multi-storied apartment building was being constructed. A woman in her forties sitting near me said to her friend, “I’d like to live in one of those for three months – just to see what it would be like. You see, I always say that I’d never live in one of those units, but I don’t know what it would be like, so it would be interesting to live in one, just for three months, to see what it would be like.”

Elvis and Tongue Piercing

Three people sat in the seats next to me. There was a guy who had big sideburns, big hair and a jacket with “Elvis is King” on it. He and his girlfriend sat across from me, and their other friend sat next to me. The girl started talking about how she and Elvis were going to get their tongues pierced. The other guy said, “do you know what it feels like? Here, I’ll show you.” He pulled a pair of pliars out of his bag and gave them to the girl and told her to clamp them on her tongue and pull it out as far as it could go. After a few attempts she managed to do that, and the guy said, “now imagine a needle going through your tongue.” She decided that there was no way she was getting her tongue pierced if it was going to feel like that, but Elvis didn’t seem too bothered by it.

Fellow Kiwi

A crazy Maori lady got on a tram late one night. She saw some other fellow crazy ladies down the other end of the tram and was yelling at them, trying to start a conversation. The other crazy ladies got off at the next stop and the Maori lady yelled at them for leaving. A New Zealand guy sitting near her had picked her as a fellow countryman and said to her, “there are a lot of us here, aren’t there.” She didn’t understand what he meant, so he said, “us Kiwis, there are a lot of us here.” If he was hoping for a conversation about hokey pokey ice cream or the All Blacks he wasn’t going to get it from her. She muttered something about the government, then got off at the next stop.

Da Bomb

Two guys sitting across from me were talking about stuff. One was Australian, the other from Northern Ireland. The tram passed a cheap car hire place called “Rent-a-bomb”. The Irish guy said that until he came to Australia he’d never heard an old car described as a bomb. But then, he said, it probably wouldn’t be too wise to be talking about bombs in Northern Ireland.

Bewigged Booze Hag

A drunk woman in her twenties got on a tram. She was with some crazy old guy who appeared to be her boyfriend. She kept asking for money or cigarettes but no one would give her any. She yelled out, “never wear a wig! It makes your head itch like Hell!” No one paid any attention to her and she got really angry and got off.

Wuv

There was a scruffy-looking girl with a smelly creepy guy who had his arms wrapper around her. He appeared to think that he was her boyfriend, but she wasn’t so sure. He asked her if she wanted to come with him to a pub, but she said she couldn’t go to that suburb because her ex-boyfriend lived there and had said if he ever saw here there he’d kill her. The creepy guy got off, then the girl kept asking people if they could smell something strange.

Ladies Man

A young man got on the tram and saw a group of girls he knew. They said hello to him. Instead of taking one of the many nearby empty seats, he instead stood next to them. They pretty much ignored him while he was standing there and got off a few stops later. He then sat down in the empty seat they’d been in.

Happy Bon Bon

Two trams were stopped near each other. An old lady was on one and her friend was on the other. She spend the next five minutes maniacally waving at her friend. She’d wave, then look around to see if other people on the tram were looking at her, then she’d go back to waving at her friend. She only stopped when her friend’s tram left.

Worse

The restaurant tram passes the tram I’m on in the opposite direction. The woman sitting across from me says to her husband, “I can’t think of anything worse than eating on a tram.” It took all the willpower I had to not ask her if, say, getting smacked in the face would be worse than eating on a tram, because I think for a lot of people it would.

Directions

This old guy tells the tram driver that he wants to go to a suburb that is basically in completely the opposite direction that the tram is going in, and not even on that route. The driver goes to pains to explain this to the old guy, telling him where he needs to get off and what trams he needs to take to get there. The old guy looks thoroughly confused and says, “I’m getting the train there. Do you go to a train station?”

Attempted Racism

There’s a crazy old drunk guy and a few seats away is a group of Asian teenagers who are joking and laughing. The drunk guy starts saying “chinks… chinks… go back to where you came from…” but he’s not actually talking loud enough for the Asians to hear him. He keeps uttering “chinks” until a guy in a suit says to him, “look mate, if you haven’t got anything intelligent to say, then I suggest you keep quiet.” The crazy guy shuts up, then gets off at the next stop.

Melbourne: Part One

It happened all so suddenly. My father was going to Melbourne on business and arksened me if I wanted to come along ‘cos he had enough frequent flier points for me to fly for free. Yeah, ok.

I kind of forgot about it until about a week before I was due to go, and realised I’d better get excited. So I found myself on the four hour flight across the sea without much of a traditional tourist thing happening.

At Melbourne airport I used the toilets in the area where the baggage carousels are. On the wall near the sink was a unit for the disposal of syringes. So, Australia has a bit of a problem with junkies, and indeed syringe disposal units are found in most public toilets, but who exactly would be shooting up in the toilets in the customs area of an international airport? Maybe I’m missing something here?

There’s a special 20 cent coin made to commemorate Sir Donald Bradman. He was a cricketer, quite a good one, apparently. The first time I got a Don 20 cent, I was really annoyed. See, a few years ago Caltex had this promotion where with every $20 of petrol you got a free rugby collector medal and each medal featured an All Black. So when I got the Don 20 cent, it looked just like the rugby coins and I was annoyed cos I thought someone had tried to use this cricket coin as legal tender and I’d ended up with it. Then I turned it over and saw the Queen’s profile on the back. Oh.

I went to the Old Melbourne Gaol. It was pretty cool. It’s a three-storey-high cell block, and most cells have a small display about a notorious former inmate, or some aspect of the prison. There were a lot of bad arses there, and many hangings. When a fellow was hanged, a plaster mould was made of his head, because back in the day it was thought that the shape of a person’s head could determine their personality and destiny. Nowaday, we know that the size of a person’s arse determines their destiny.

In the place of honour is the Ned Kelly section. Not only is the death mask of Mr Kelly on display, but so is his famous DIY armour. I didn’t actually pay much attention to the display, so I can’t remember what Ned Kelly did, but it must have been pretty bad because he was hanged.

I also paid the Melbourne Museum a visit. It was full of many different things, but two exhibits really stood out.

As a New Zealander, I am supposed to get really angry that the stuffed skin of Phar Lap, who was born in New Zealand, (and if horses could have citizenship, he would have been a New Zealand citzen, mate) is housed in the Melbourne Museum. But as I don’t care, I’m not angry.

Phar Lap, whose belovedness is attributed to the fact that in a time of ecomonic hardship, he was a sure bet at the races, is displayed in front of a red curtain. Creepily, his horses veins stand out under his skin. It should also be noted that Phar Lap is hung like a horse.

Also of interest was the Robinson’s kitchen. Yes, rescued from the set of “Neighbours” was the set of the kitchen of the Robinson’s kitchen. I stood behind the counter and pretended I was Charlene, who’d come over to see Scott and, oh look, Helen’s baked some biscuits! My fantasy was soon ended by the arrival of a bunch of school kids.

I saw “Mamma Mia”, the musical based on the songs of Abba, but we don’t like to talk about that.

I met up with Matt and Olivia and asked them where I could see a real live junkie. Apparently the place to go junkie spotting in on the trams at about ten in the morning, when they’re heading into the city to get a fix. See, we don’t have junkies in Aotearoa. Except in Christchurch. Everyone else just smokes lots of pot.

I should also note that I had a really nice lunch, coffee and dinner with Matt and Olivia and the Melbourne posse.

I also got the names of some cool streets to check out. First on the list was Brunswick Street. It’s a really long, straight street with lots of really cool shops on it. I discovered a shop that sold interesting books, comics, zines and bongs. It was quite a novelty being in a country where it’s legal to sell bongs, they don’t have to be called “decorative vases”.

Another really long straight street with lots of shops on it was Chapel Street. My favourite was the Chapel Street Bazaar, which is the grooviest second hand shop I’ve ever been to. They had Smurf figurines! I also found some books of matches which commemorated the 100th anniversary of Te Aroha, back in 1980. Just what were those doing in Melbourne? Maybe someone’s mum back in Te Aroha send them over?

I had a good time, and can state that Melbourne is rad. Any city in which a right turn is executed from the far left side of the road has to be rad.