Arrival in Melbourne. The Last Hoorah.

For my last hoorah adventure in Australia before heading back to the States, I decided to take a long weekend in Melbourne. Which is the other big city in Oz.

Essentially, I will use the LA vs. SanFran example again. Or LA vs. NYC. Melbourne has shitty weather, but more awesome and attractive people.

Like NYC. Clearly.

Here's a map to help you out.



For those who don't know, Canberra is the capital of Australia. Why? Because Melbourne and Sydney both wanted to be the capital. And no one could agree. So they created a little district in the space between them and called it the capital.

Very interesting, I know.

So, yes, I went to Melbourne. Alone. Awesome.

I booked myself into a "VIP" style all-girls dorm that I found in my Lonely Planet. With the hopes of not finding any more condom wrappers in my bed.

My flight arrived pretty late in the evening - like, 11 - but I figured it wouldn't be that bad. What I didn’t realize is that my flight landed in the oldest, shittiest airport ever, super far away from the city. Not the new Melbourne airport.

So I had to take an hour bus ride to get there - then a tram to my neighborhood - and then stumble around in the dark to find my hostel. At 1am. Alone. In a city I've never scene. With luggage.

After stealing a tram ride because I can't figure out the machine on the bus and successfully avoiding arrest, I wandered around this really cute little area with a bunch of drunk people passing by me. Fun scene, so it wasn't too bad. Just effing cold.

I realize I'm getting super close to where my place should be, but I don't see it anywhere. There's a HUGE line of people waiting to get into a bar down the road a bit, so I walk up to ask for help. I know this hostel is huge – someone will know it, right?

Oop, wait. This is my hostel. I'm sleeping in the only crowded bar in the neighborhood.

I had to show my bags and irritation to the bouncer to cut the line and get through the front door.

As the clerk checked me in, I just kept screaming “WHAAAT!?!?” until he gave up, threw me the key and said goodnight.

At this point it’s 1 in the morning. Everyone in the place is a 19-year-old backpacker who’s been drunk for at least 6 hours. I tried to socialize - everyone was veeerrry friendly - but quickly went old-lady style and went to bed.

My mother would be ashamed. And so would Ufer.

I did better the next night. Stay tuned.

Oh, and there were no condom wrappers. Just nice little bottles of Aveda shampoo.

Score.