Thursday, September 29, 2005
The Melbourne Identity
We spent a drizzly but otherwise pleasant day in Melbourne yesterday, having made the two-hour drive from Port Phillip Island that morning.
The Penguin Parade was of mixed response. We were told to arrive an hour early, but found ourselves sitting in the cold with plenty of time to kill by shivering our feathers off. It seemed as if this suggest hour of preparation might be related the numerous gift shops and merchandizing opportunities that this 'nature' center happily provided. The viewing area was out on the beach, consisting of large concrete steps, similar to the seats one would see at a high school football field. So, our huddled masses took our hot chocolatess, penguin embroidered blankets, and popcorn that we purchased at the 'nature' center and waited for dusk to fall.
With each person that brought out a tub of popcorn, a flock of seagulls would immediately converge on the poor sap. Once they sat down, the stiff onshore wind allowed dozens of seagulls to hover mere inches over the popcorn-bearer's head, just waiting for a distraction or a kernal to drop before squawking into a feeding frenzy.
If you were fortunate enough to be sitting in the row behind the popcorn-bearer, you got an eye-level view up the tail pipes of many a seagull until they moved on to another food source. With the seagulls hovering upwind from you, any involuntary (or voluntary) excrement that the birds might pass wound up in your face. Nedless to say, I was quite amused by all of this, secretly rooting for the seagulls to drop turds on people.
As darkness set in, our little penguin friends would emerge from the surf, look around to make sure it was safe and then begin scuttling towards the grassy dunes behinds us. Now, if a good 500 people, a battery of flood lights, voices yammering on over the loud speaker in multiple languages, scores of seagulls swooping and pooping everywhere doesn't say 'unsafe', I don't know what does. Nonetheless, about 200 penguins did their best Normandy impression in squads of ten or twelve and made for higher ground to mate and nest. From the grandstand to the visitor's center were these elevated boardwalks where the penguins would waddle adjancent to and under. It was as if they wanted to see you to your car, just to make sure you got home safely.
Melbourne was a lively town. They're having a fringe festival this week and, as most fringe festivals do, had many obscure bands and performances to go and see. After popping our head in the casino, which is much nicer than the one in Sydney, we aimlessly wandered around the city to find some entertainment. We hopped on one of their famed street cars and made our way to the Fitzroy district to go see Jangle Jim, whoever that was.
On a tangential note, a few weeks back we went to watch our friends perform an open-mic night at the Chatswood Lawn Bowling Club in Sydney. I don't have to tell you how hard we rocked the Lawn Bowling Club, the seniors playing bridge in the room next to us almost went into a geriatric uproar. Well, that event was put on by the Australian Singers and Songwriters Association, meant to encourage independent acts and local performers. The Jangle Jim, which turned out to be an open-mic event as well, was also put on by the Victorian chapter of the same group. Two Australian Singers and Songwriters Assocation events in the same number of weeks! Aren't we the cultured lot.
It was a good evening, the acts were amusing and funny with the Melbourne crowd having more vibrancy than one might find at say, a lawn bowling club. Checking back into our hotel at around midnight, we felt that we had made the most of our short time in this capitol city.
Today we are heading further West along the Great Ocean Road, visiting Bells Beach (site of the fictional 100-year storm, classically depicted in the movie Point Break -- I keep yammering, 'Bells Beach. 100-year storm, Pegs. Not gonna go back to no jail' with my best Patrick Swayze voice -- she keeps telling me to shut up.), the Twelve Apostles (three of which have collapsed into the sea -- causing local Bed and Breakfasts to offer a 25% discount) and making our way to Warrnambool.
In all honesty, we've seen a lot of glimpses from California on this trip, ranging from the rolling hills of Petaluma, to the flat land of Davis, and the dramatic coasts of Monterey and Stinson. It is an unfair view, given how undeveloped this continent is and how few people there feels to be. We've had a spoiled upbringing, getting to experience so many different climates in such a small space. Similarly, we've heard the Aussies describe California as being most like their home as well.
When we arrive in Warrnambool (I think that was the title of a song at open-mic night), we're turning the Holden around and bee-lining for Canberra and the Great Dividing Range, gaining in elevation and heading away from the coast. As a 'note to self', this is the last time I leave Sydney's city limits without a wetsuit and a floating recreational device. There have been some amazing surf breaks thus far.
posted by ncawthon at 1:23 PM
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