On the Road Again!

As the temperature started to fall and wealthy Melbournites began vacating their summer homes on the peninsula, the desire to move on grew stronger. There was so much left on my list to see and only so many weeks left to see them. Still, it was hard to give notice, both to let them down and to give up something that had become so comfortable.  I stayed on another couple weeks past this point until someone new was found and I could help to train them. My last weekend [the eighth highlight I can’t believe I forgot to mention], my bosses offered me a free Discover Scuba Diving (DSD) day which is purely an introduction, rather than a course. I learned the basic skills in their dive pool and then finally experienced a dive in the ocean. It was an odd feeling to be breathing underwater for 47 minutes, but as a diver I was able to immerse myself in a way I had never been able to with a snorkel. It was amazing to achieve neutral buoyancy and simply hover, as if weightless, watching all the life around me. We were only a few metres deep, so I was able to rationally shrug off the occasional panicky thought (read: turning “Gahh, air!?” into “The surface is right there.”) My only qualm was how much breathing through a regulator felt like trying to inhale deeply through a straw, though I’m sure this is something I would quickly get over were I to try again. I decided not to pursue my PADI certification here based on how expensive it is, but perhaps one day!

I worked my last shift on March 10th, Australian Labour Day. This was the end of a long weekend and, as such, one final hectic day of turning over every single property. That night, Joel and I went out for dinner to celebrate my freedom and, coincidentally, his birthday, and then it was time for me to pack up and head off.

I had spoken to Cara and Duncan to make sure I could stay with them for a night or two in Melbourne when I arrived. What I hadn’t done was make sure I had somewhere to stay after that when they had others coming…and on this particular weekend, that was a huge mistake. Every single bed across the city was booked for Grand Prix (Formula 1) weekend, and not a single Couchsurfing request I had sent out had yet to be answered, likely due to overflowing inboxes. It seemed very plausible that I would actually have nowhere to stay the following night, and even the notion of trekking back to the staff house in Rye as the only solution crossed my mind. Cool as a cucumber, Cara pulled out her phone and sent off a few text messages to potential host friends. By the next morning, I had a few phone numbers of strangers willing to meet me and put me up in their homes. (I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Couchsurfers are truly the best there is.)

I texted back and forth with Paul, one of Cara’s friends, and arranged to arrive that afternoon. When I did, his housemate Claire answered the door and I quickly realized she had no idea I was coming. She took this all in stride, welcomed me in, gave me the tour, and fed me lunch. I learned she was from New Zealand and now living in Melbourne to study medicine after a drastic career change from contemporary dance. Shortly after, Paul arrived home with Claire’s partner, Geoff, and we got acquainted. He took me with him to a bar nearby for a friend’s party where I happened to get to talking with a prostheticist (one who makes prosthetics) and her sister, a physiotherapist. (I’ve met so many fellow allied health professionals who have kept me on my toes with the medical-speak, it’s wonderful.) That night, we cooked up a delicious vegan feed and as I later drifted off to sleep on a mattress in the living room, I marveled once again at the beautiful randomness of how I came to be there.

Hosier Lane

The next day, I set off into the city centre with a Melbourne Lonely Planet in one hand and my camera in the other. (Despite my best efforts to blend, some days I have to accept appearing like the tourist that I am.) I followed a walking tour that took me through some popular alleys and laneways, including Hosier Lane which is famous for its stunning urban art (read: graffiti). The tour also suggested stopping in at Haigh’s fancy Australian chocolate shop for a chocolate frog, so I obliged!

A couple nights later, Paul and I got dressed up to attend Duncan’s surprise birthday party with an “Opera Under the Stars” theme at another friend’s house nearby. Someone had prepared masks of Duncan’s face for us all to cover our faces with his, and he had a good laugh when he walked in. There was a great turnout, a delicious potluck (my chili was a hit!), and a surprise performance by a very talented opera singer in the group. I mingled my way around as Cara, endlessly helpful as she is, asked every Couchsurfer in attendance if they were currently hosting. It was in this way that I was lucky enough to meet Anna, a speech pathologist, who agreed to host me a few nights later, though we had barely yet spoken beyond casual introductions. It was here that I also met Rukmal who invited me to his birthday party later in the week for which he had rented out a restaurant’s balcony overlooking Federation Square for the Cat Empire’s 1000th show.

Duncan (left) and Cara (right), plus a few fake Duncans!

The Cat Empire's free show

The next day (March 20th), Joel picked me up in Melbourne city centre and we headed off on a two-day trip of the Great Ocean Road – a beautiful 250km stretch of road along the south-eastern coast and a must-see in any guide book. I had noticed the weather forecast looked particularly good for the end of the week (30 degrees, sunny) and realized I may not get that opportunity again as autumn set in. I was lucky (and persuasive) enough that he agreed to join me and to drive, even though I couldn’t take a shift at the wheel with my inability to drive stick. Armed with an itinerary given to me by another host of twenty worthwhile scenic stops, we set off. The weather was indeed incredible that day, and we stopped perhaps a lot more than we intended. By evening, we had only made it to stop #6 in Apollo Bay, but it was already time to set up camp for the night. We found a small campground to get settled and then treated ourselves to dinner at the Apollo Bay Hotel.

Clear skies and the open road

A kookaburra!

"These people are so rich and they don't even care."

Alas, the rain began to fall in the early hours of the morning, and the clouds hung heavy when it was time to head out. We opted instead to stay inside the tent – very much testing the limits of its waterproof rating – until we realized it was only getting harder. In the end, we quickly packed up and headed back to the city via the inland route; the incredibly winding GOR is definitely not the ideal road for bad weather. And so, I didn’t get to see Grampians National Park or the Twelve Apostles (though I hear only seven and a half still stand), but I wouldn’t trade that one gorgeous day for the world. I can look the rest up on Google.

I have but one more week in Victoria left to write about and am now less than a month behind(!), but this has gotten longer than expected. To be continued, friends! I leave you with a photo of someone’s incredibly bizarre front yard. I made Joel pull over so I could snap a shot and then flee the scene.

Why? What?

Life on the Mornington Peninsula: Work and Play in the Bay

The trip from Melbourne city centre to the southern tip of the Mornington Peninsula would normally take about an hour and a half by car. By public transportation, one must catch the Metro train on the Frankston line all the way to the end (1hr) and then an infrequent bus almost all the way to the end along the coast (1h45min). This left me plenty of time to question my decision and wonder if I should regret having left new friends so soon. The feeling passed as soon as I arrived at the staff house and volunteered to join in on the weekly grocery shopping trip – a trivial activity that, for whatever reason, made me feel immediately more at home amongst this new group. We were five in the house (from France, Belgium, England, and Australia) and one more (Australian) in a caravan outside. By the end of my time there, the group had changed somewhat such that there were three French travellers, so I was speaking a lot more French than I ever had back home…despite all of them encouraging me to speak English.

The company has a shop in beautiful Portsea for gear rental and purchase which acts as their base for snorkel, dive, kayak, and bike tours. My job as caretaker was to manage the turnovers of their various self-contained rental properties. I had nearly sworn off housekeeping altogether after my hostel work in Byron Bay, but given that it was mostly families who stayed here, it was a fairly different job with more varied tasks involved. The properties were also scattered between a couple adjacent towns so I had to drive the staff car to and from work. I loved being able to get behind the wheel again, even if driving on the left side took a little getting used to. Driving to work was a pleasure when it meant I could roll down the windows, turn on the radio, and watch the ocean glistening in the summer sun the whole way there. Once classes had started back up again in February, there was also catering to be done for the school groups that came to stay in the bigger lodge. We served breakfast, dinner, and packed lunches for their days of adventure tours. I can safely say I never want to make a ham sandwich again, but the interaction with school groups was a lot of fun. The best perk of the job, however, was being able to join in and help out on their guided tours, or grab a wetsuit and head out for a snorkel in the bay on a regular basis. Overall, the work was usually just a few hours a day and left a lot of time for relaxation and fun in the sun.

As it had been in Byron Bay, it was lovely to settle down and get comfortable in the house. I was sharing a room, but had an area with my bed and closet to myself. When I first unpacked into my closet and drawers (rather than milk crates) for the first time in a few months, for just a split second I held my jeans in one hand and a clothes hanger in the other and tried to remember how one puts pants away. Seven highlights from my seven weeks on the peninsula, in no particular order: One: Australia Day! This was just a couple days after I arrived, and though a small part of me regrets not partying hard up in the city, it was a pretty fun evening nonetheless.

Two: Exploring the beauty the bay had to offer on more than one occasion. After work one hot, sunny afternoon, I accompanied Blake, my Aussie housemate, on a hike along the coastal walk. It was especially windy, but the view was divine.

As a group, we took a drive out to what I thought was Bushrangers Bay. I now believe I drove us to Cape Schanck where there’s a view of the bay by accident. We saw some kangaroos and wallabies from afar though, so mission complete regardless!

Three: Borrowing bikes from the shop with housemate Estelle and attempting to make it to Point Nepean for the amazing view. Only making it as far as the Quarantine Station, but enjoying the rich history there.

Four: Every week, we shopped as a group and each night someone would take it upon themselves to start cooking dinner, so we almost always ate together. Sitting around the table, we would often take a moment to appreciate the series of events that had brought what would otherwise be six strangers together, and to appreciate the pretty fantastic set-up we had all found ourselves in. (Not to mention, we had some pretty fantastic Aussie BBQ nights at least once a week.) Since then, I still remind myself frequently not to take this crazy, beautiful journey for granted…but my diet on the road will never measure up to those two months!

Five: Taking an overnight trip up to Melbourne to visit Sarah from Sydney and her friend Natalie. We had an evening out on the town, and an amazing breakfast at Lentil as Anything with CSer Cara.

Six: Having an especially welcome familiar face, Cal, come to visit me during his time in Melbourne for a planned two nights on our couch and staying five instead, then accompanying him back up to Melbourne for a night.

Seven: Getting back in the water and exploring the different beaches in the bay. I met Joel, a dive instructor by day and marine biologist by degree. He took me snorkelling one of my first weeks on the peninsula and taught me to properly duck dive – an experience I later described as a fish trying to teach a bird to swim. He spotted some cool creatures for me (a seahorse, a crab, etc.) and put an enormous sea star on my head where it decided it would stay, ripping out some hair when it was time to put it back in the water. On this particular day we didn’t see any sea dragons commonly found in the bay, but you can see one in this neat promotional video!

Intro to Victoria: Melbourne

My flight down to Melbourne on January 14th was surprisingly enjoyable. As usual, I made my way to my assigned seat with fingers crossed for someone next to me to chat to. This time, my wish was granted; I found myself seated next to an elderly Australian couple who took an interest in where I was from and where I was headed, and the gentleman soon began recounting tales of growing up in a Melbourne very much unlike the one I was about to discover. While his wife attempted to quiet him down so I could read my book, he told me the story of tracing his family tree to discover his ancestor (a Disney, but alas, not related to Walt) was sent to Australia from England for stealing a loaf of bread.

I arrived in Melbourne just in time for the Australian Open as well as for one of the worst heatwaves of the summer: four straight days of 43+ degree weather. The hostel I had booked was some sort of converted bank building (I would guess) and the entire thing – the rooms, in particular, with windows that opened but an inch to tease, but also the kitchen and hallways – retained heat like you wouldn’t believe. I had booked a 12-bed dorm and was put on a floor that didn’t have air conditioning with no hope to move since the whole city was booked solid. And so, with no options but to soldier on, I did what everyone else in the room had to do: moved as little as possible, slept in as little as possible, and soaked my t-shirts in cold water before putting them on. Oh, and complained just enough at the front desk to be given a fan which I promptly plugged in and kept for myself. Fortunately, I was welcomed warmly (no pun intended) into the room by the other guests who referred to 102 as “The Room of Destiny” and immediately had fun people to talk to.

Having had such a wonderful time in Brisbane thanks to my Couchsurfing post, I posted to the Melbourne board in search of new friends. One response came from Nicole, a Canadian expat in Melbourne for five years, who invited me to dinner at a restaurant called Lentil as Anything. This restaurant and its mission are so phenomenal it deserves a post of its own…and will get one, later on. I took a friend from the hostel along with me and we had a fabulous dinner in the company of many Couchsurfing Melbournites. This is where I met Duncan, an active CS member and a fantastic human being, who gave me his phone number and invited me to come stay for a couple nights if I needed to. I have known Couchsurfing to be full of some incredible people, but being offered a place to stay without even having to ask really takes the cake.

In the meantime, I had been hunting for a room to settle in for the following few months. My first day in the city had been spent in the State Library in both an effort to keep cool and to use the free internet to peruse the listings. By the time I left the library, I was receiving calls in response to my enquiring e-mails and attempting to set up viewings over the sounds of street performers on didgeridoos. My second night in Melbourne, I went for my first inspection. The house was located in Carlton North, a nice Mile End-like area just 20 or so minutes out of the city centre by tram, and my potential future housemates were two Aussie guys in their early twenties – one an engineer and the other a contractor. The room was nothing special, but the thought of having a room to myself after so long was exciting enough. After a solid hour of chatting with them in the backyard, I decided I would be content there. Nevertheless, I headed back to the hostel with the impression that I hadn’t been exactly what they were looking for… until I got a call within the hour asking me to move in. Overjoyed to have completed my search so efficiently (first try!), I accepted and we talked logistics. I came to my senses the next day and arranged for a few more inspections – just to cover my bases – but in the end, this option was still the most appealing and the only sure thing, so I handed over my lease application and a $1000 bond cheque.

Another CSer, Kieron, had responded to my post and we met up for drinks one evening. He mentioned he was hoping to go watch some tennis, and later on in the week invited me to join him at the Australian Open for free. Our ground passes didn’t allow us to enter the bigger matches, but it was a great time nonetheless. We watched a few matches, enjoyed some cold drinks in the Heineken beer garden, and monkeyed around a tad. (I promised not to post this photo….to facebook.)

It wasn’t until we reached the front of the queue for the beer garden that I reached into my bag for my ID to find it wasn’t there. Immediately, the image of my passport in the library’s stubborn photocopy machine sprung to mind. I had been hastily copying my documents for my lease application and, evidently, left it behind. Kieron passed me his cell phone and I called the library with only a few minutes to spare before they closed. Yes, the security guard said, a passport had been handed in and would be safe until they opened the next day. I slept soundly but wasted no time going to retrieve it – a process that took me into the depths of the library’s basement, through a lengthy form to fill out, and a decent wait while they sorted through all the passports in their found collection. Somewhat unsurprisingly, passports and drivers licenses are very frequently forgotten, but I still consider myself lucky a good soul turned it in!

On what would be one of my last days in the city, while I was on the cusp of overstaying my welcome at Duncan and his partner Cara’s most lovely abode, I headed out on a day of adventuring with another friend from the hostel, Mike from England. We were on a mission to see some penguins in Philip Bay, but since they don’t tend to venture out until after sunset, we had a few hours to spare. We started wandering just south of the river, through the beautiful Botanic Gardens and the Shrine of Remembrance, and soon decided ice cream was in order. We hopped on a tram to St Kilda where I introduced Mike to frozen yogurt (a win) and had a walk along the not-so-impressive beach. While we were treating ourselves to tacos and beer later on, I received a highly unexpected phone call. Much earlier in my trip – in Yamba – I had been attempting to organize a work-for-accommodation position somewhere in the Melbourne region. I had sent an e-mail to a company called Bayplay on the Mornington Peninsula a few hours south, but had never heard back…until now. I was told they hadn’t had an opening for helpers earlier, but there was now a three-month paid position available if I wanted it. I couldn’t believe my luck…and misfortune. I explained with a heavy heart that I had just signed a lease application and paid the bond, so I expected to be staying in the city for the forseeable future.

I hung up the phone but couldn’t shake the feeling I had just passed up an excellent opportunity. After a single penguin sighting, I returned ‘home’ that night and discussed my dilemma with Cara at length, only to wake up the next morning and discuss it some more. She encouraged me to call back and arrange, at the very least, for a trial run to see if this was even something I would be happy doing. In the end, I agreed to come down the next day for a week as a helper and I immediately called to apologetically back out of my housing arrangement. With enough warning to find a replacement, they were understanding but frustratingly unavailable to return my bank cheque to me, given that I wanted to leave the city the next day. Though the cheque hadn’t yet been cashed, the $1000 bond had left my account when it was issued and this was worrisome in the hands of strangers. It was a surprisingly difficult proccess – including some phone calls and a visit to the bank – to claim the cheque had been lost and to ensure the money came back into my account. (But all’s well that ends well.) The next day, I packed my bags, said goodbye to my big city dreams, and made the long three hour journey by public transportation down the peninsula for my next adventure.