Melbourne vs Sydney

Sitting on St Kilda Beach in Melbourne, I got to thinking about the question that Robby, the painter, asked me on the train: "Are you a Sydney or a Melbourne person?" This was a question I had considered before I even came to Australia, when I was deciding which city I wanted to live in long-term. Through chance or circumstance, I ended up in Sydney for what was a fun-filled six months of self-exploration. But sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I chose Melbourne instead.

There were a lot of things I loved about Melbourne: the vibrant street art, the unique small businesses, the style, the architecture, the eco-conscious attitude of Melburnians and the underground music and bar scene. The city is better designed and more planned out than Sydney's and the public transportation system is twice as efficient. I love the random conversations I had with strangers there. Whether it was another writer in a kitschy cafe or a musician from Texas in a Fitzroy dive bar, I was always meeting friendly people who were eager to share their story with me.

{St Kilda}

But then I remember all the reasons I fell in love with Sydney: the sunshine, the humid climate, and above all--the beaches. While St Kilda water's are nice and calm and easier to swim in, I wouldn't trade it for the crashing waves, the Coastal Walk, or the character of Sydney's beaches. Sydney averages twice as many clear days as Melbourne and the weather tends to be slightly warmer. And I simply think it was the place I was meant to be for this season of my life--my eternal summer. And though it's unfair to judge after spending an unequal amount of time in each city, I think if someone were to ask me again if I was a Sydney or a Melbourne person, my answer would have to be Sydney.

The Streets of Melbourne

Since I only had four full days to spend in Melbourne, I decided that instead of rushing from attraction to attraction, I would instead enjoy the city at a slower pace. Walking along the Yarra River, spending hours in unique coffee shops, thrift shopping in Fitzroy, enjoying the unseasonably hot weather and exploring the small bar scene--this is how I spent my days in Melbourne.

{Melbourne is a modern, well-designed city. 

Whether by bike, tram, bus or foot, it's easy to get around in the city.}

{There are lots of street musicians in Melbourne...}

 {and street artists...}

 {and street art.}

{I love the way this Vespa dealership used graffiti as a way to promote its business}

{It isn't often that I like a hostel enough to recommend it, but I really loved The Nunnery. The hostel's historic building used to be a convent (hence the name) and it's located in Fitzroy, one of Melbourne's hippest neighborhoods. It tends to attract a really chill crowd of backpackers and I met a lot of cool people during my stay. There's a courtyard area with a BBQ grill as well as a nice indoor lounge. Plus, the hostel puts on daily events and provides a complimentary breakfast every morning. I'd highly recommend it if you're looking for accommodation in Melbourne.}

{My new friend, Becky. She's incredibly talented & creative. Just check out her illustration portfolio}

{Melbourne has one of the most impressive street art scenes in the world. 

This graffiti pretty much sums up the attitude of the city in four words.}

On a Train Ride to Melbourne

This past year I've really grown to enjoy the art of slow travel--so much that I decided to stay in one city for six months and that I chose an 11 hour train ride to get to Melbourne over a one hour flight at the same price. I love to travel by train; to see the changing landscapes and watch the scenery pass me by as I gaze out the large windows. Maybe I just enjoy it so much because it's a mode of transportation that I don't get to use back home, or simply because I appreciate the old-fashioned romance of it all. Besides, you're able to see the beauty of the land and all the small details you miss when you're flying thousands of feet above the clouds.

I think my friends thought I was nuts for taking the train. As I packed my backpack in their apartment, sorting my few belongings into piles--one for keeps and one for leaving behind, I joked that I would probably have to sit next to an old, smelly man for the entire journey. When I boarded the train that bleak morning at Platform 1 in Central Station, I was exhausted. Staying up late with nerves and packing until the morning hours (my usual habit before big trips), left me with only two hours of sleep. I threw my bags onto Seat 61 of Carriage D. One of the staff members for CountryLink approached me in his uniform and said, "Where are you going today?" / "Melbourne," I replied. / "Didn't you hear? It's been canceled. This train's not going to Melbourne." / "You're joking," I smiled. / He shook his head. "You should have gotten an email. There's a bus that's leaving, but not until this afternoon." / Very confused, I look down at my printed booking confirmation. "So is it a night bus, then?" But he was already walking away, laughing his head off.

I got comfortable in my seat, very happy to have the one next to me vacant. The four seats ahead of me were occupied by an adorable albeit loud French family of five. The two seats across the aisle from me were taken by an Asian couple, who were both wearing the exact same blue plaid shirt and eating hot buns for breakfast. The extra seat gave me room to stretch out, write in my journal and sleep. I finally read the card that my friends gave me the night before at my last BBQ with them. Naturally, I cried my eyes out and then I fell asleep again.

As the train got closer to the Victoria state border, it came to a halt at a rundown station in a small town. I woke up to the movement in the carriage. A man limped onto the car and placed his bag in the compartment above my head. I sat up and shuffled about, scooping up my things and putting them back in my own area. He sat down next to me and said "G'day." He absolutely reeked of cigarettes. I laughed to myself. I guess I get to sit next to an old, smelly man after all.

He attempted small talk with me, though I could scarcely understand what he was saying. His accent was thick and he used a lot of jargon. I wasn't really in the mood to chat to him, or anyone for that matter. But the attendants who worked on the train all seemed to know him well, calling him by his first name and asking him how he was. This piqued my curiosity. "Are you a Sydney or a Melbourne person?" he asked. / I had long heard about the Sydney-Melbourne rivalry. "I've never been to Melbourne before," I replied. / "Oh, are you going to visit family there?" / "No, I'm American. Just here visiting."

Once he found out I was from Texas, our conversation became a lot easier. He talked about his love for Western films and fishing. He wanted to know how long it would take to drive from Texas to California. "A good two days with a stop in between," I guessed. / "Fair dinkum!" He couldn't believe America was that big. It was the first time I had ever heard someone use that stereotypical Aussie expression.

I noticed his skin was tanned and leathery with freckles, probably from thousands of days spent laboring in the sun. His hands, however, looked too clean, too soft to belong to a tradie. We came to another stop in another nondescript town. He pointed out the window, "I painted that rail station. I've painted loads just like it." So he was a painter. He told me that he was involved in a really bad car accident nearly a year ago. He spent almost two months in the hospital recovering from severe injuries including seven fractured bones in his spine. He now travels to physical therapy sessions every week via train. That's how all the ladies on staff knew him. His injuries prevent him from painting and being outdoors. He now works in paint sales, but hopes to be able to return to his trade and passion soon. He finally introduced himself as Robby, and he explained to me how his surname has American roots which date back to ancestors from Scotland.

Robby painted a picture for me of Australia in the days of his boyhood. He described the old English-style school uniforms and how they've changed over the years; how teachers gave out ruler lashes to anyone who acted out in class. He told a tale of how he and two of his mates "wagoned school," (or played hooky) one time and got caught. When they heard the siren of the police car, his two friends swam across the river. The cops shouted to the boys to come back or they'd shoot, and then they fired two warning shots into the air. Robby said, "You never saw two blokes swim across that current quicker. They got over in just 10 strokes." He talked of the bygone days of train travel, when the "Red Rattler" trains still existed. The seats in the train were replaced by benches. Instead of a buffet car, there was a saloon. And the passengers smoked, drank and gambled all the way to their destination.

I only got to spend about an hour talking to Robby, before he reached his destination. I shook his hand and smiled, remembering that first impressions aren't always right. He was a true blue Aussie bloke, and his stories opened my eyes to a different side of Australia. I'm so glad he sat down in Seat 62 that day.

The Race That Stops a Nation

No, I'm not talking about the US presidential election. Today is the biggest race in Australia--the day that everyone gets off work early and heads to their favorite restaurant, pub, or local racetrack. It's bigger than the Superbowl and twice as glamorous. Today is the Melbourne Cup. While Derby Day is all about classic elegance in black & white, the Melbourne Cup is a chance to flaunt bold trends, colors and patterns. So fasten your fascinator and place your bets, because today's horse races are about to begin.

Here's what I'm wearing on my first Melbourne Cup Day:

{peplum dress: sportsgirl, wedges: ralph lauren, jewelry: forever 21 & sportsgirl, 

flower: myer, purse: sportsgirl, scarf: target}