A short note on Melbourne

For our time in Melbourne, we promised ourselves wine, wine and more wine. So as connoisseurs of the cabernet and sophisticates of the sauvignon, it became our number one priority to choose which set of wineries to get completely sloshed in. Luckily, the area around Melbourne has a wealth of opportunities in that regard, so we chose the Yarra Valley as it was served by another hop-on, hop-off service. This one was run by a Welsh bloke called Jon and his German wife Sara (who had an outrageous Aussie accent), immigrants who came out to Australia a few years back. Not so many people on this tour, in fact only 2 others (a clearly deluded old couple who insisted it was better to spit the wine out – the very thought!). Unlike the McClaren Vale near Adelaide, on this one we’d chosen places where we could sit outside in the hope of a decent day. For once, we were rewarded.

Well on the way at 10:45….

We started at ‘Coombes’, a winery once owned by the famous opera singer Dame Nellie Melba (peach, toast) , whose family still own and run the estate. A wonderful experience, the only ones there and drinking superb wines at 10:30 in the morning, mainly varieties of Pinot Noir, the grapes for which the valley is best known. We had a fun and lively conversation with the server too, who conveniently ‘forgot’ to charge us for our tastings, followed by a sumptuous scone treat and the purchase of a lovely bottle of Rosé for an upcoming picnic. Another boozy session at Dominique Portet, a very French establishment with a beautiful courtyard in which to finish our tipples. Then a meat & cheese platter at Soumah and ending at a place called Punt Road, where we plumped for a large pinot in the shaded garden. A truly wonderful day indeed.

Looking suave at Dominique Portet, Yarra Valley

Soumah winery vineyards, Yarra Valley

Stay still, try not to fall off my chair…

To be honest, we’d been a little dismissive of Melbourne as a fairly anonymous and inconsequential large city with not much in the way of distraction, but thankfully we were totally wrong on that count. The city is a lively mix of the cosmopolitan and the historic (for Australia), with many 19th century buildings still intact and in use. Carlton, where we stayed, was very much old-town style with streets lined with single story dwellings, many with elaborate stone or brick facades or intricate iron latticework. This part of town also hosts a large Italian community and the restaurants here are purportedly the best in the country. We sampled one and found the elegant simplicity very reminiscent of Italy itself.

A big distraction was the start of the Australian Football League season and we got cheap tickets to see Carlton versus Richmond, the annual opening fixture at the vast and impressive Melbourne Cricket Ground. The seats were pretty good and the atmosphere even better (the MCG holds 100,000 and the place was almost full). Unlike a great deal of sports where passionate and frenzied support causes friction between fans, here everyone mixes together with no issues at all. We were cheering for Carlton, seeing as we were staying there, but were surrounded in the main by Richmond supporters, who really got going when their team came from behind to stage an incredible near finish that saw Carlton just hang on to win 75-71. Aussie rules is a seriously big deal here, especially in Melbourne as it’s home to half of the teams in the league. A strange mix of rugby, handball and football, with a little nod to basketball thrown in, it’s a tremendously entertaining affair. Even as impartials we found it impossible not to get carried away with the rest of the crowd. Best of all were the songs at the start of the game. Clearly written when teams were formed (interestingly many pre-date the founding of our own football teams by a few decades), the tradition of singing away to amusingly twee little nineteenth century ditties is alive and strong and the experience is much the better for it…

Sung with must gusto, we had Richmond’s song first;

Oh we’re from Tigerland
A fighting fury
We’re from Tigerland
In any weather you will see us with a grin
Risking head and shin
If we’re behind then nevermind
We’ll fight and fight and win
For we’re from Tigerland
We never weaken til the final siren’s gone
Like the Tiger of old
We’re strong and we’re bold
For we’re from Tiger
Yellow and Black
We’re from Tigerland

Then cacophany for Carlton as they were the designated ‘home’ team that day;

We are the Navy Blues
We are the old dark Navy Blues
We’re the team that never lets you down
We’re the only team old Carlton knows
With all the champions they like to send us
We’ll keep our end up
And they know that they’ve been playing
Against the famous old dark Blues

The mighty MCG filling up

Melbourne is also home to the largest tram network in the world and we spent ages trundling up and down the city in these sometimes ancient, sometimes modern affairs. These we used to visit other key highlights such as the street art that’s taken over several lanes and alleyways in the city. Rather than clear the place up, the authorities encourage regeneration of the streets with artworks sprayed over artworks. Themes are largely topical and a great deal of ‘coverage’ was given to the US / Israel / Iran conflict occurring at the time. The city also hosts an extensive and impressive Immigration Museum (it’s a large part of the Australian psyche – see Footnote) and a fabulous state library where a rotating exhibit of seminal books is permanently on display.

Hosier Lane, Melbourne

Joint-smoking kangaroo

An ‘artist’ in action

Another high point was the free ‘Opera for all’ performance at Federation Square on Saturday night. It was just over an hour long and had only four performers, but the best tenors and mezzo sopranos we’ve probably ever heard. How these singers are not superstars I will never know. A little like the ‘Opera in the Park’ we used to get at Temple Newsam Park (we’ve never forgiven Leeds City Council for axing that), the schedule ranges from the famous to the little known and showcases the enormous range of the voices on display. A finish with Nessun Dorma, of course – easily the best version we’ve ever heard live and even, we thought, a serious rival to the mighty Pavarotti himself.

‘Opera for All’ concert, Federation Square

We rounded off our stay with a picnic in the park next to the Shrine of Remembrance (a pyramid-like construction housing a poignant history of Anzac troops through the wars) and polished off our Rosé in surprisingly quick time. We do picnics well. Fresh produce from the huge Queen Victoria Market (Australian Brie, mixed spicy olives, crusty olive bread etc), finished with homemade scones (the best so far on the trip, of course), strawberries and whipped cream, all sat lazing in the glory of the sunshine and the lushness of botanical gardens. Not a bad way to round off the stay.

Next, our eargly anticipated road trip around Tasmania in a campervan and a chance to really get out into the countryside for a while.

Melbourne Shrine of Remebrance

Boozy lunchtime picnic

Evan Walker Bridge over the Yarra River

Old and new trams working together

Waiting for a tram, Carlton North

City skyline from the Shrine of Remembrance

Riding on the ’35’ around town

Footnote: For a short period of time in the 1830’s Melbourne was known as ‘Batmania’ after its founder John Batman, who’d signed a very dubious treaty with the natives to acquire the land. Surely anticipating the heightened craze for all things Gotham in the late 20th Century, the authorities quickly averted a future credibility crisis and renamed the city after the 2nd Viscount Melbourne instead. Nowadays, the city is sometimes known by its aboriginal names Boonwurrung and Woiwurrung.

Melbourne, like most Australian cities, is still trying to come to terms with its complex, messy and sometimes appalling origins and everywhere institutions, companies, billboards, street signs etc proclaim that the land on which their buildings are built is still aboriginal (first peoples) and deserving of ‘acknowledgement’ and ‘respect’, though notably not ‘return’ as that’s clearly a bridge too far. It’s a peculiar position to be in. Australia in general seems to be a weird mix of the languorous and laidback, countered by super-strict safety rules and jobs-worth officiousness, and all of it mired in a swamp of political correctness and what you might call a ‘bad history’ complex. Being an immigrant here seems to come with a sense of real pride for young and recent arrivals. But the moral status of those with links to the past seems less clear. They are the usurpers, or the ancestors of usurpers, of a romanticised native paradise and the country now seems ever keen to keep reminding them of such. There’s a sign in a lot of gents toilets suggesting that 43% of all Australians are, or will be, suffering from mental health issues. I’m not surprised given the incessant diet of guilt by association people are fed every day.

You can argue, no doubt very successfully, that all this is true and that the horrors and injustices of the past need to be continually addressed. But I’m not sure that belated self-flagellation is a productive way to deal with the inconsistencies and atrocities of a world that no longer exists. And, as far as first peoples are concerned, it changes absolutely nothing. They still see themselves as the dispossessed regardless and saying ‘we’re sorry guys’ seem merely weasel words. What to do about it? Nobody, I think, really knows…