Off to see the Wizardry of Oz
Day 13: Rapid blogging
We had to rush out of the hostel to catch our flight to Melbourne on time since I stopped for some juice and petrol. Hasta Lleugo Brizzy. The flight was 2 hours and the train ride 20 minutes to our hostel/hotel. We had a bit of trouble finding tickets to the train but Joe finally managed to find himself a weekly pass. I lost him while waiting at an intersection and it saved me money in the long run. One of the locals told me that was easy to ride the tram for free since the Aussie “Chips” gang never checked. I followed her lead. Joe was smart and texted me the directions. Our last living quarters for the trip were exceptional- phat kitchen, two beds, tv, shower, and free internet! Both of us starving from the traveling, we sought food fast. “Lentils as Anything” turned out to be our dinner spot per the recommendation of our hotel receptionist for the finest vegetarian in town. Have you ever heard of a restaurant where you decide what you pay for the meal? Welcome to Lentils as Anything. A perfect place for travelers like us, eh? In this case, Joe and I weren’t officially backpackers since we had money, but I was beginning to feel younger and younger with each and every city visit. In this case, I was going to support this movement (for a multitude of reasons) with a healthy financial gesture to spread the spirit of good living and trust. Even though it took over 30 minutes for dinner to be served by two granola hippies, the food was worth the wait. I ordered a Japanese Udon Noodle dish and shared with Joe. He ordered a Japanese pancake. Both dishes were vegan and absolutely delicious. We left 40 bucks in the wooden box.
Afterwards, we asked locals for recommendation of good places to go for live music along Acland St., the main strip in St. Kilda. After a few chats, we settled on Revolver, a semi-underground music club that stays open Friday night straight through to Monday morning. It never closes on the weekend, except briefly for some cleaning with music still playing. The people there call it the recovery club. It being a Wednesday night our options were limited and we didn’t really care as long as music was playing. Revolver did not disappoint. The DJ spun fresh electronic rhythms with a splash of funk here and there. The music sounded real to the ear and the vampire-like red lighting made it visually impressionable from any seat. Only one room was open that night but you could tell this place went off. Even though it was nearly empty, Joe and I put a few “pots” of beer down and relaxed on the velvet couch while being indoctrinated into the greatest city in all of Australia, if not one of the world’s best. I had found a 4th home.
Day 12: No surf for you
We checked out in the late morning, but not before I became inspired to make a few bead necklaces at a local bead shop for hostel barter or friends. I’ve made a few bead necklaces in the past, one for my brother, but it had been several years since then. I love making what you wear and seeing if people dig it. In this case, the necklaces could serve as currency in the traveling community if necessary. It took almost two hours of contemplation, sweat, and finger nailgames before Joe got overly bored and I was ready to bounce. Surfer’s Paradise was the next stop. Again we were confronted with scattered showers.
A late lunch was in order first. I ate at a Hare Kushner vegan spot and Joe ate an outdoor café. The waiter at the cafe was kind enough to let me bring my food to his table and I relaxed for a good hour noting how Surfer’s reminded me a lot of Miami. The nightlife seemed vibrant, the apartments stood a mile high, and the beaches rested infinitely- this would be a perfect place for a birthday weekend or a bachelor party. Joe and I walked around the main strip and learned the small city’s ropes from some local party planners at Plan B, an event planning group for young travelers. They told us that Melba’s earned first place for early night dancing and drinks, “Shooters” would be bumping for ladies night and house music, while “Bedroom” was the best R&B joint in town, and last “Hollywood” might keep you busy after hours.
Since we didn’t have a room booked yet because we contemplated heading back to Russ’, I looked on GoogleMaps and found a backpacker hostel near the center of town. I booked a single room for myself. Joe booked a four person room, but shared my room for shower and bags. It was time for a run before doing anything. I felt unfit since my last run was on Sunday and headed off to the water for a beach. Joe took a snooze on the couch. The night couldn’t have been any more perfect for a 7 mile run. Sprinting on the hard sand, I meditated and mouthed the words to several 80’s and ambient beats. During the late night run the water made faces at me, like oil slicks smiling in the sand, retreating slowly to the motions of the moon. I felt at complete peace and reaching the pier at the end of the run reminded me of my father and his famous monuments.
A shower and an hour later, Joe and I suited up, so fresh-and-so-clean, seeking drinks and mischief. At nearly every club, I gave the bouncers my ID and asked to take a look around before committing to paying a cover. This was a good tactic for saving money. Upon careful inspection, “Shooters” was best for music and people. Since it was “Ladie’s Night”, the entertainment catered to the females. We had to sit through a few male dance performances, in between sets, but the house music rocked so who cared. It didn’t take long for me to be on my own again since Joe wasn’t into the bar scene. I spent the majority of the night dancing with one hand on the railing and people watching. I picked up a few moves that I’ll bring back stateside soon enough. I took a few photos and videos of the insanity. The best dancer of the evening was our fellow hostel receptionist. She grooved like an epileptic prancing on her feet and it was awesome. But semi-selfish for her dancing dude. The night ended at Hollywood for a late drink to make sure I didn’t miss anything special. I slept like a baby in my old school canopy bed.
