Melbourne

It's time to put my cards on the table; Melbourne is cooler than Sydney.  There, I've said it.  This is a huge thing in Australia where Sydney are Melbourne are constantly at each others throats over just who, exactly is the coolest.  I hope my pronouncement has settled this matter once and for all.
 
Because, for all it's amazing landmarks and its "Hey, we were the coolest Olympiad EVER!" claims (and they WERE, no two ways about it) Sydney is just too much of a hyped-up, look-at-me-look-at-me, coke addict fiend of a city.  Melbourne, on the other hand is a more laid back, beer-drinkin' kind of town.  While Sydney screams at you to pay it attention, Melbourne seduces you down back alleys with funky shops and groovy cafes.
 
And I should know, we spent a great deal of time in both, seeing as how it PISSED DOWN WITH RAIN JUST ABOUT THE WHOLE TIME WE WERE THERE.
 
Now I'm not a total idiot.  Well, all right, yes I am, but there are some things I know.  And one thing is that even though we are in Australia where it's supposed to be hot the whole time, even the Aussies have Autumn.  And this was it.  Melbourne was as cold and rainy as Edinburgh on a Sunday afternoon in October when you're trudging your way back from Safeway with four bagfuls of groceries and no hat.  And the world doesn't get much wetter than that, unless you're Jacques Cousteau.
 
I suppose I wasn't expectly COLD rain, is what I'm saying.  But I'm from Yorkshire you know.  We're good hardy folk.  We're robust!  We're staunch!  We're pretty stupid!  So I didn't mind too much and enjoyed what I saw of Melbourne through the drizzle.
 
But anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself.  We arrived in relatively pleasant conditions, said our goodbyes to the naughty Germans, the funky Americans and Rosco.  Then we made our way to our hotel.
 
YES!!  A hotel.  I had decided to allow ourselves a bit of spoiling for 2 days, so we booked ourselves into a  hotel where we would revel in the en-suite facilities, the teev and those little packets of coffee with plastic milk.  (Look, after a night in Cape Otway, I was happy just to be alive, okay??)

However, Caro and I were delighted to find that our hotel was, in fact, fabulous.  The Hotel Como must have had special rates going on, or maybe they thought were were royalty or something, because we got a lovely room at a special rate.  We realised we had entered a world of luxury as soon as we entered a vast lobby, all terribly minimalist in design, dominated by grey marble with a cute little fountain and pebbles embedded in the walls.  Our room was larger than my entire flat in Edinburgh and contained a living room with telly, large bedroom (also with telly) a fitted kitchen and bathroom as big as a ballroom (except with a bath in it).  It was a decent tub too, not the usual sort of thing where you have to stick your feet up in the air like a pregnant lady in stirrups if you want to submerge your armpits.  I’m not kidding, Jacques Cousteu and the crew of the Calypso could have spent hours investigating this tub.  

Well, all right, maybe I’m exaggerating a little.  Look, I’m excited about the room, okay?

I haven’t even told you about the in-room service yet.  We were delighted to find that it was possible to order a double-massage in order to "share the ultimate sensual experience".  Or they can would RUN A BATH for you.  It took 90 minutes to prepare but The Gentleman's Bath included patchouli, orange, sandlewood, and a hint of ylang-ylang - topped off by brandy and a cigar.  I was considering taking up smoking just so I could try it.  Caro’s favourite was “the "personal jogger".  This poor soul was employed by the hotel to "escort you around the many scenic jogging routes that surround the hotel."

Can you imagine the poor bloke - undoubtedly called "Kevin" or "Duane" - just coming back in from a 6 mile run only to be told that Mrs. Jenkins now wanted to go out and was looking forward to a REAL work
out.  "Off ya go Kev!  No excuses!  And put that vein back in your neck!"
However, I was DISTRAUGHT to find that once we were in the hotel room THERE WAS NOTHING ON THE TELLY!!!  It was a televisual disaster!  The only thing on was "Neighbours" - and OLD Neighbours at that.  I do believe Kylie was still in it.  So in these tv drought conditions Caro and I spent most of our time going around the shops looking for a pair of funky trainers.  This is currently Caro's "El Dorado" if you will.  The Funkiest Trainers In the World.  She's been trying since Hamilton in New Zealand but still they elude her.  I imagine her eventually penetrating the Hidden Mayan Funky Trainer Temple of Machu Pichu, and avoiding horrid little Nike pygmies throwing sweat socks at her.  Then the drugs wear off and I wake up.
 
Actually I didn't mind helping Caro look, because Melbourne is a hugely attractive city with lots of cool little arcades from the Victorian era which are fun just to look around at.  In one, there were these huge statues of Gog and Magog, which is not something you would expect in a mall in the UK.  I find it’s lots of fun just to go poking about, even if you have no intention to buy.  My favourite was The Haunted Bookshop which was full of stuff about Satanism and Ghosts and such.  It was one of those really cool places with huge wooden shelves that go up forever and creaky floorboards.  

On returning from another failed Trainer Expedition, I found there to be NOTHING on telly apart from "Bewitched".  But this was ok.  Even if Bewitched featured basically the same plot (if not the same Darren) week after week after week, and even if the jokes were lame it didn't matter because ELIZABETH MONTGOMERY was in it.
 
Now I don't know about you, but I think that Elizabeth Montgomery may be the perfect woman.  Every week she would be there, bopping about in groovy sixties clothes (by which I mean very short skirts) with her cute little eyes, blonde hair which she sometimes put in a ponytail and Darren would come home and she would whip him up something yummy with a wiggle of her nose.  I certainly wouldn't complain if I were Darren.

(I have similar Barbara Eden fantasies.  I see nothing sick or deviant about this.  Really.  Look, just shut up about it).
 
Mind you, Darren did nothing BUT complain.  "Saaaaaaamm!!" he was always saying.  I just kept hoping Endora would turn him into a frog and place him in a roomful of schoolboys armed with straws.  However I must admit that this feeling was based in part on pure jealousy.  What happened when Sam wiggled her nose in the BEDROOM was what I always wondered.  Then the drugs wore off and I woke up.