Aussiehalley - Halley Down Under

The Cliff's Notes version

Oh so many fun things since I turned in my thesis last week. But I'm leaving for New Zealand in a few hours, so in brief, I've been enjoying the city. I've stopped in to lots of the little independent shops around Fitzroy, Carlton, and Melbourne. I've gone to some galleries.

I went to the Immigration Museum: cool. Lots of reading, if you like to read at museums, but other interactive bits. I found out Myer (one of the the major dept stores here) was started by two Jewish (immigrant) brothers who used their older brother's middle name "Myer" for the name of their shop, where you could touch the merchandise and didn't have to ask a clerk to see an item. Shocking. There was a room in the museum that went into each time period. My favorite was the flyer, while asking for people to come to Australia, said that no idiots would be accepted. I think a few got in. Anyway, they didn't try to gloss over the racist elements (the "White Australia" policies, etc.), which is, of course, the fair thing to do, but still good to see. They also explained how Australia has taken in refugees when other countries weren't (including the most Holocaust survivors). Granted, Howard is still following Bush around and therefore, now they're trying to block refugees and immigrants, too. Awesome.

After turning in my thesis on Monday, we went out for celebratory drinks that night. I left May, who was meeting us later, approximately 17 voice mail messages since it took us a couple passes to find a place we wanted to be at. Somehow "Death by Metal" night just didn't sound like us. Sarah and I named a new drink: the Kick in the Head. It used to be a Satly Dog, but the guy didn't have grapefruit juice. So I substituted pineapple juice. Which goes fine with the vodka. Not so much with the salted rim. That's the 'kick in the head' part. It's awful. After May got there, we planned a road trip to Box Hill in New South Wales for the next day right there. I should point out, we were a few drinks in by then. To get there Plan A was the map we had of Southeast Asia. Plan B was my innate sense of direction. Plan C was the map on the back cover of my guidebook. Plan D was getting directions from the internet. In the meantime, we watched Switzerland play Togo in the World Cup on the big screens around us. The fun thing about Australia is that they are very keenly for the underdog. While one guy in swiss flag tshirt was cheering for the Swiss, the rest of the room roared when the Swiss missed. (I just said, swiss miss. heheh.)

Anyway, Plans A through D were never to come into play because we scrapped the 12 hour drive, for a Victorian road trip within a couple hours of Melbourne. (btw, I mean Victorian as in the state we're in. Not the other way. There were no corsets involved in this trip.) Sarah, May, and I went to Hanging Rock Park, of Picnic at Hanging Rock fame, the next day. The film is a creepy story of a schoolgirl on a class trip in the '30s who goes missing. Miranda! Miranda! This is what we understand, anyway. So beloved is this film that multiple video stores were out of it and so none of us has seen it yet. Including May, who as an Aussie, could get her citizenship revoked for such a transgression. Don't tell. So, we climbed rocks. I saw a neat area to climb down into, recognized there was no way I could climb myself back out, and went in anyway. Photos of the rescue to follow. Eventually. We had lunch on a rock overlooking the valley and saw a pod of wallabies (like 30 of em) move through the fields below us. We weren't alone, but there were plenty of little paths to climb up and over rocks to find one's own private bits of boulder. I also learned the "Marco? Polo!" for Oz: cooo-EE! (kinda like the pig-calling soo-EEEY! but don't tell May I said that.) A group of five large roos bid us a fond farewell from the field near the parking lot. And by fond farewell, I mean they looked totally disinterested in us. But we went to May's parents' home and had a wonderful evening, enhanced by the really cool new faucet in the bathroom, champagne, and baby pictures.

Thursday night, I saw a new play (Eldorado) at the Malthouse, a theatre here I like (where I saw a few other things and part of the complex for the Writer's Festival). It was strong and disturbing and sometimes boring and sometimes too long and sometimes really visually striking. They did some really interesting things from a performance standpoint - it's hard to explain but they sealed off the stage so it was like the audience was outside of that world, kind of an exhibit, kind of in the area of peril. (It's set in a near-future ruined city, but certain areas are still good.)So that part of it was neat, especially the beginning, where the lights off on stage make the glass look like a mirror, so the audience is just looking at itself (which has some interesting implications), and then we see a man inside of it, looking at us. And then the story kicks in. Anyway, I found a book I've wanted at the small bookstore there, so that was exciting. (I have a small/large book-acquiring problem. I will be shipping a box home of just books...Oy.) And to get to the theatre, you have to go by other arts venues in the city with lots of buzzing people around them, so that's fun.

Today, Sarah and I found the tucked-away Rose St. Market in Fitzroy, an artists market for contemporary arts and crafts. It also has a fantastic cafe. Ohmigoodness, the anzac biscuits we had! so good! homemade! The weather today was insane, raining off and on all day, changing every 3 minutes, literally. Sometimes sunny, sometimes cloudy, sometimes both. Just Melbourne reminding us of its nature (so to speak) before we depart. I found some lovely etchings, had a nice tea and toastie, and wondered how people found this place. I felt very "local". Until I opened my mouth and people heard the accent and asked me where I'm from. Then not so local anymore. After, I continued on to the Koorie Heritage Centre, and Aboriginal Cultural Museum. Good stuff. I especially liked a print of Elizabeth St in the 1800s. Elizabeth St is one of our cross streets and it's huge and busy. In this print, there were fields, a house, a building, a horsecart, and a few chooks in the road. Rush hour.

I think this might be the most boring post I've written thusfar. I really just wanted to get it down before I left for NZ. So we'll just think of this post as Halley's shorthand notes that somehow got posted, mkay?

posted by Halley @ 11:20 AM