Melbourne: Our Arrival

As we arrived at the Sydney airport, the aussie next to us remained optimistic that we could make our connecting flight to Melbourne, but I remained doubtful. And I was right. After spending an eternity shuffling through customs, and a bout of panic that Chad’s luggage had gone missing, we maneuvered our 200 lbs of clothing through crowds of every nationality on our way to the “transfer” department.

Hours later we were told the obvious – that we weren’t going to make our connection flight –  and we were herded on board a bus to drive us 5 miles or so to an entirely “different airport” to catch our new flight.

When we finally touched down in Melbourne, it was… to put it lightly… an experience. It was quite different than I had expected, than I had envisioned.  My ideas of lush leafy-ness, and green grasses along street-lined shops was replaced with towering skyscrapers, busy streets and grimy gutters.  Graffiti was rampant along crumbling buildings.  Thousands of people were roaming the sidewalks, bundled up as if it were almost Christmas back in the states. Children of all ages in uniforms littered every corner, as though school was taught curbside.

Exhausted and sore from dragging our luggage through airports for – technically – 2 days, we wearily slogged in to our hostel, and to an incredibly rude awakening.

I had looked through many hostel websites, trying to find both value and comfort for our 4 days in the city.  I had stumbled upon “Hotel Discovery’s” website by happenstance, and was surprised at the pictures of the rooms and the amenities.  It had looked surprisingly decent. However, after a horrific elevator ride up to the 4^th floor - in which I was sure we would plunge to our death after the jolting and grinding of the mechanics – and a walk down a freezing open-air hallway (It is WINTER here, mind you) I opened our door to find what I can only describe as a spare closet of sorts.  Some metal frame, with some sort of square springy thing (could be described as a “mattress” if you squinted, I suppose) sat in the middle of the room, about the size of my ‘double’ bed from childhood.  A small wooden chair, a garbage can, a mirror, and a wrinkled sheet of paper with some paint on it bolted to the wall added to the ambiance.  It was absolutely dreadful.

Loathe to drag our luggage another foot, however, we dropped it on the floor, and fled as fast as we could to find food.

Wandering the streets of Melbourne is reminiscent of New York, or what I imagine New York would be like (although we see how that worked out with my notions of Melbourne!). Towering buildings surround you, the streets are littered with cafes and their chairs and tables. You get shoulder-checked every couple of steps, and you have to weave through the little groups of people who seem to be oblivious to the rush of crowds around them. We somehow found ourselves inside the mall, which we learned to be “Melbourne Central”.  We gawked at the outrageous price tags on everything and panic quickly set in on how we were possibly going to afford our new life.   A bottle of water costs $4, a Big Mac $7, a muffin $5, and chicken at Nando’s: $15.  Make it a combo and add another $6.50.  Want a new pair of US$100 Nikes? Be ready to cough up $165.  Need a new Quiksilver tee?  $59.99.  A cup of coffee to satisfy your caffeine fix? $5. Any regrets I had about packing so much that I had to cough up an additional $130 in “heavy luggage” fees vanished, and I found myself wishing I had brought more.

It was neat to see Borders – going out of business, of course – and I reminisced about my old job. We even found a GNC for Chad to reminisce over, too!

Aimlessly we wandered the streets, taking alleyways and backroads, not really having any concept of direction, until we stumbled upon the strangest thing of all; we turned onto a street only to be confronted with a line about a mile long winding back and forth into the street in front of some strange store.  Security guards and men in suits with earpieces in were pacing along the outskirts of the crowds.  Chad tried to stop and ponder about what they were waiting for, and I tried to scurry past them as quickly as possible. It took us a few hours, after the sun went down, to find ourselves back on the same street, with the same long line of people.  By this time, I couldn’t help but stop in front of one of the suited, earpieced men, and ask “What is this line for?”  “They’re waiting to get in to ZARA’s” he answered.  I looked at the store’s sign, ZARA’s- “What for?” I asked incredulously “just to shop?”  “Yea” he answered “It’s a new store”.  Absolutely dumfounded.

We ended our night by tucking in to a little coffee shop on our way back to misery (or what you can call “Hotel Discovery”)  It was the highlight of my recent life, with the most delicious iced coffee (sorry Dutch Brothers!) that has ever graced my tastebuds, and the best newspaper posting I have ever seen in my life – Clown Phobia Courses.