The contrast between Melbourne and Sydney, Australia's two large cities, could hardly be more pronounced. Sydney has a vast harbour; Melbourne has the Yarra River. Sydney has the narrow streets of a city that kind of happened; Melbourne's were designed with plenty of room for bullock teams to maneuver, although you don't often see bullocks in town these days. More personally, I feel almost like I'm in an American city when I visit Sydney, at least most of the time. Melbourne is definitely foreign; part English and part something else entirely.
The foreign feeling begins with the architecture. Flinders Street
Railway Station is a fine example. Just over ninety years old, it
belongs to another era of design. The station sits along the northern
shore of the Yarra. From the opposite shore there are fine views of
the old and new buildings that make up the city's skyline. The south
shore is taken up by shopping malls and the city's casino complex, a
vista that I'm happier to leave to your imagination.
Melbourne Central is a large indoor mall in the center of the city
that resides on top of the central train station. Anchored by
Daimaru, an upscale but failing (or should that be "failing because
it's upscale?") Japanese department store and connected to two other
department stores by elevated walkways, it had the wisdom to save the
wonderful shot tower on the original site and make it part of the
shopping experience. A block away is the
Queen Victoria Women's
Centre, a magnificent building that houses a wide range of
services for the women of Victoria. (I have a hard time using the
phrase "Victorian women" with a straight face. I keep imagining long
black dresses with high collars worn by women saying "We are not
amused.") In spite of its appearance, the QVWC dates back only to the
50s. (The 1950s.) Which didn't stop the government from attempting
to demolish it in 1989. Fortunately, the outcry was long, loud and
ultimately successful.
The ornate gates at left belong to the Melbourne Mint. Or more
accurately belonged: these days the official coinage operation has
moved to Canberra. Now the building is home to the Melbourne office
of TEAC Corporation.
I hope they appreciate working in such fine
surroundings. The rather more somber structure at right is the
old Melbourne Gaol. (I love these antiquated English spellings.)
The gaol is famous as the place where famed bushranger
Ned Kelly was executed.
From everything I've read, Australian colonial justice in the
nineteenth century was anything but just. And Kelly is a fascinating
character: a bank robber and murderer who continues to polarize
Australians more than 120 years after his death. Was he an
opportunist and a criminal? Or was he the victim of a corrupt system
that never gave him a chance? Or just a smug twentysomething who met
with a bad end? As with most things, the truth probably lies
somewhere in the middle.
My hotel in Melbourne was nothing to write home about. But it did
have a view of Queen Victoria
Market. The market takes up seventeen acres of what was once a
cemetary. (You'll be pleased to know that the graves have all been
relocated.) Much of it is an open air fruit and vegetable market,
with the front buildings providing a more controlled environment for
fish stores, butchers, bakers, candy makers and a lot more. My
schedule gave me no free time on days when the market was open, so I
was limited to an early morning dash through before I left on tour. A
pity; I think I could have enjoyed sampling the wares.
Two celebrity sightings from central Melbourne. The personage at left
is Dame Edna Everage,
the megastar from Mooney Ponds, Victoria who has delighted audiences (at
least the ones she hasn't repulsed) the world over. I hold a special
fondness for Dame Edna. I once had the opportunity to bask in her
presence and take a bow with her and the rest of her entourage on the
state of London's Haymarket Theatre. (Details and autographs -- mine,
not hers -- are available for a nominal fee.) The picture adorning
the building at right is of no such august personage. Although... is
it just me, or does the woman in the Chinese military uniform bear a
striking resemblance to
Fran Drescher?
What is sadder than an amusement park out of season? My explorations
of the Melbourne tram system took me to the southeastern suburb of
St. Kilda. Luna Park, Melbourne's answer to the
Santa Cruz Beach
Boardwalk, was closed. And the weather was a bit gray.
Instead I settled for a wander among the funky shops of Acland Street
and a rather good wiener schnitzel in an
alter
kocker filled restaurant that was right out of Eastern Europe. I
avoided the siren call of the bakeries, although it was awfully
close. A little less schnitzel and who knows what would have
happened?
Each of the southern states has its wine-growing region. Victoria's
is the Yarra Valley, due east of Melbourne. I spent a pleasant day on
tour to the valley, stopping first in the Dandenong Range to commune
with a few parrots and then to ride on
Puffing Billy, a
historic steam train that has gained a new lease on life thanks to
tourists like me who'll consent to riding open-sided trains in the
pouring rain. Not that I'm complaining, mind. At least the cars had
roofs. And it does move slowly enough to capture the odd picture along
the way.
Like the Roaring Camp
Railroad near me, Puffing Billy relies heavily on a volunteer
staff. As hard and dirty as working a steam train must be, I can
understand the appeal. For those of us who grew up with
Lionel, what better than a chance
to play on the real thing? Sadly, my itinerary covered only a small
fraction of Billy's route. We had to make tracks to a winery for
lunch (and yes, a little drinking and buying) and thence to our last
stop of the day.
Taronga Zoo in Sydney is a wonderful
place in an unsurpassed harbourside setting. But in the end it's just
a zoo. Healesville
Sanctuary, on the other hand, is a little
miracle; a home for native species where you can almost forget the
civilization that encroaches on their habitat. Despite a wet and gray
day, I had a wonderful time walking the trail, and wondering what
species waited around the next turn. Like the remarkable fellow at
right. And no, my camera didn't have a red eye problem. That's an
albino kookaburra; the red eyes are all his own. This little guy owes
his life to the sanctuary. With his weak vision he'd have little
chance of surviving in the wild. Apparently albino births aren't all
that unusual. Having one reach maturity is quite another matter.
There are no good or bad animals; they all just act according to their
nature. On the other hand, there are good and bad photographic
models. The wallaby at left is one of the good ones. She let me get
as close as I liked. And when I asked her to raise her head she
complied. How much more cooperation can you ask than that? The
Tasmanian devil at right wasn't quite so cooperative. Like his
counterpart in the Warner cartoons, he just wouldn't stop moving. But
eventually I was able to outsmart him: figure out the timing of his
march around his enclosure and where he liked to stop for a whole
second, focus on that spot, wait for him to get into position and
press the shutter before he went on the move again. Temperamental
creature! See if his agent gets any calls from me!
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