After a two week stay in rural Victoria and the farmlands of Mooroopna, I felt an urge to listen to my sentiments above, don my secured-by-a-thread flip flops and see where my feet - still hopefully attached to my flip flops - would take me. I walked from St. Kilda to Albert Park, following the beachfront, the strong winds catching and whipping sand at my body. After an hours walking, reflecting, singing out loud and staring in awe at the brave many catching the waves and utilizing the winder-power on an array of boards, I read a sign for 'Albert Park' and thought I'd see why it awarded its very own shiny blue, metre-long signpost.
After a further fifteen minutes perambulation, I came across a sign for a library 800m away and turned sharply left with the thought of reading and writing in the quiet grandeur that such buildings project - perhaps with the aid of a few coffees to combat fatigue and spark my brainwaves into creative abundance. The library - the name of which escapes me now - was part of a church complex and with the church being the first building I'd seen open, I wandered inside, found a seat on an empty pew and smiled in delight at the harmony it excited. In truth, all the pews were empty during my half hour there. I saw noone, nor heard anyone, which I find really quite saddening. This place of reflection was simply stunning and I couldn't help but think it under used. Whomsoever constructed it, had obviously invested a huge amount of money and forethought and the fact that it only seemed to welcome visitors for scheduled services baffled me. Anyway - I enjoyed it immensly and was glad to have stumbled across such a warm retreat. After a while, I gathered my things and headed in search of the library, which I found a few buildings across. It was, however, closed. With it still so near to the new year, a large portion of services seem to be 'on holiday' and this library was no exception. But anyhow, I went on a whim and I was made to move on, never mind such things. I had a brief conversation with the lady on reception and proceeded out to the local bus stop for catographic aid and orientation.
I found myself only a block away from my initial destination, Albert Park, so headed in that direction. After a quick dive through a tram underpass, I was greeted by lush grass, open vistas and a lake surrounded by empty benches and innumerable aquatic wildlife - a mixture of ducks, swans and bizarre-looking birds. I found a bench to my liking, a stride away from the water's edge, with trees either side of me framing a portrait of idyllic planning - landscaped gardens before me and post-1980 high-rise architecture painting a backdrop. I sat, wrote and beamed a wide smile wholeheartedly.
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After spending several hours in the local library and taking some time to shower and refresh, I grabbed my book and walked through the forecourt of the hostel, with the aim of finding a beachfront spot to grab some dinner. I was, however, greeted by two French backpackers and an Australian rubber-tramp, who asked if I fancied joining them to Queen Victoria's Market. After momentary deliberation, I found myself with the three of them, evading tram fares, heading into town and to the market. It was exceptional. Each Wednesday night, the regular market of fresh produce transforms into a veritable delight of diversity. A few hundred stalls are set up, selling all manner of things from hemp produce, to silk clothes, to Ki massages - something consisting of a man massaging while exhaling crowd-stoppingly loudly - with every culinary experience ready to be tried. After an hour of sampling the market's delights and manoevering between the thousands of patrons, we headed to the stage where an African band were building an atmosphere, the likes of which I've rarely experienced.
Within minutes of opening, they had a few hundred people in a frenzy of excitement, jumping and twisting in wild ecstasy. I, of course, could not resist the intoxicating music and joined the crowds in two hours of free moment and expression. It was utterly wild and wholly friendly. It felt like all could release their pains and worries, dance without judgement and let their souls run free. We left as the band closed - much to the boo's of the still dancing crowd - smiling wildly, feeling free and for the first time in three weeks, feeling cold.
It has been around or over 40 degrees celcius for the past weeks and with the temps cooling to a daytime high of 26, the breeze and ability to wear trousers came as a welcome break. After several minutes of escaping the excited crowds, we found our way to a tram stop, used the 'I'm foreign and it's my first time here' excuse to avoid the fare and headed to the hostel for a well needed sleep.
Day one complete in Melbourne and I have to admit to rather liking the place.
- Peace and love all -
xx
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