I'M AT: Melbourne Connection, a strange place, friendly enough, but where the kitchen's closed at 10pm (so you can't get at your cold beers after a night at the cinema) and you're not apparently able to drink anyway, despite there not being an in-house bar or fridge with beers for sale. Apart from that, and the high turnover (much rustling in the mornings before check-out), it was OK.
You could get stuck in Melbourne for years on end, I'm sure, ligging from gig to flick to party to cup final.
In the few days I was there, I managed to see England beat Australia at cricket (a defeat from which, as I write, the Aussies still haven't recovered); go to a huge beach party in high winds, saw loads of rrrrrrrrawk bands hammering their fretboards; saw five films (Last King of Scotland, Volver, I'm Your Man, The Good Shepherd and Notes on a Scandal, all of which were pretty good - Scandal was beautifully evil, Last King was compelling. Good Shepherd was a bit slow.); ate at noodle bars and curry trucks and fast food courts and stuff; walked in the Dandenong ranges, and saw my first wild animal, an echidna, which lumbered past spinily; went to Melbourne Zoo, where unfortunately the alien tigers are given great prominence than the native platypi; and so on.
It's a place of high-rise, where trams rattle through the streets, cars are forced to do strange u-turns into red lights to turn right, where the river Yarra runs gently through, fit groups of rowers gouging a channel in the shape of the coxswain's call. The biggest casino in Australia is here. I didn't go.
And there seemed no reason to leave, until I saw my bank balance. Beers here are 6 or 7 dollars a pint - London Prices (three quid-ish) - and you can burn, burn, burn your cash without even really trying. The same amount would buy a bed and a good meal in Bolivia.
It was this madness that made me spend a further 150 dollars on a two-day tour that would bring me right back to where I started - albeit via the Great Oean Road.
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