This was my first time in Melbourne, but not my first time in Australia. And somehow that made everything new again. New state, new rules, new energy. I went to stay with my good friends Andy and Rob, and most importantly, their beautiful Italian greyhound, Shanks. Thank you both for putting up with me, I mean, putting me up.
Let’s start with the plane. Or more specifically, the gate to the plane. Because, if you’re flying to Australia, there’s a surprise security checkpoint right there at the gate, like a final boss battle just when you thought you’d made it.
It’s not regular security. They take away your liquids. All of them (over 100 ml). Even the ones you just bought inside the airport because you’re through security now and you thought that meant you were safe. But no. Australia’s got gate security and your water bottle? Gone. Unless you’ve got time to sprint back to a toilet and empty it down the sink; which, let’s be honest, you won’t, it’s going in the bin. Brutal.
There’s usually a water fountain after the gate security, like some kind of smug reward for getting through, but that’s not the point. The point is: Australia plays by its own weird rules, and you find that out before you even get on the plane.
Landing Cards and Jetstar’s Deep Hatred of Stationery
Next lesson: bring a bloody pen. Especially if you’re flying with Jetstar, who seem to have a strict policy of never, ever handing out writing utensils under any circumstances. Ask for one, and they’ll look at you like you just requested their kidney. If, after serious begging, someone does lend you a pen, don’t get attached, because they’ll sneak over and reclaim it the second you drift off. Not even joking.
So yeah, you need a pen. Because you need to fill in a landing card. And for that, you need to know where you’re staying. I didn’t. Which meant I had to ring my friend Andy while he was driving to pick me up, trying to get his address mid-traffic. It turned into an argument. I say “argument,” he says “mild disagreement.” Either way, lesson learned: pen and address, always.
The Great Customs Colour Gamble
Once you get through immigration, you’ll be directed toward customs, and this is where things go full border control game show. You get funnelled into a line, and then you’re silently judged before being assigned either green (freedom) or red (doom).
And look, they’re not just looking for drugs or dodgy cheese. They’re checking for soil. On your shoes. I’d been in Thailand before this, and I had some Thai clay still stuck in my treads. I was convinced they were going to pull me aside, fine me a fortune, and destroy my hiking shoes on sight. I felt like a criminal, just because I’d walked through a field somewhere near Krabi. Turns out, I was fine. But still, stressful.
Fitzroy: Hipster Heaven (with Vegan Schnitzels)
Andy and Rob live in Fitzroy, which is a bit posh and very cool, full of terrace houses that probably cost more than small islands. They’re near Brunswick Street, which became my street. I walked up and down it like a local. Vegan cafes, vegan ice cream, vegan cakes… and then I discovered vegan parma.
Forget burgers. It’s all about the vegan parma with chips and salad and a beer. I ate more of that than I care to admit. It’s like Australia’s unofficial national dish, and it turns out I was very patriotic about it.
Also nearby: Smith Street. Even cooler. Possibly trendier. One wine bar there did a vegan cheese board (and here’s the miracle) when I asked if they could just give me half of the giant plate, they actually said yes and charged me half the price. Revolutionary.
Also, everyone around Brunswick and Smith Street has tattoos and porn star moustaches. Every single one of them. It’s like a local requirement. Beards optional, but the ’70s facial hair? Non-negotiable.
Museums, Gardens, and Myki Cards (That You Can’t Avoid)
One of the first things I did on my own was walk from Fitzroy to the Melbourne Museum, which is tucked inside the beautiful Carlton Gardens. Gorgeous spot. There was a lot about Indigenous history that hit me pretty hard. I had a bit of a cry. Good cry, but still.
The gardens around the museum became my go-to for wandering, thinking, and occasionally trying to walk off the vegan parmas.
Another day, Rob took me on the tram into town. Here’s something else Australia loves: transport cards. In Melbourne, it’s the myki card, and you have to have one. No tapping your bank card or handing over cash. You need the sacred plastic, or you’re not going anywhere. Luckily, Andy lent me one like the hero he is.
We went to the National Gallery of Victoria (NGV) to pick up Rob’s membership card. Didn’t actually look around that day, but I got a great photo in front of some odd yellow blob art and a nice coffee.
Once I had my myki card, though, I got very brave. I hate trams I truly do, but I got on one by myself and rode all the way to St Kilda. That’s the seaside bit. It wasn’t the most exciting seaside I’ve ever seen, if I’m honest, but the sea was definitely there, and I had a little walk, a beer, and a vegan ice cream that was very, very good. On the way out, I spotted a vegan café I’d missed earlier and made a mental note to go back, which I did. The whole trip was ridiculously easy. You just hop on the tram near the Melbourne Museum, and it takes you all the way to St Kilda. Then you hop back on again and go home. Simple. I loved my myki card once I had it.
It felt like a pretty big win for my first time in Melbourne, navigating trams, seaside suburbs and surprise vegan ice cream.
I Walked, I Ate, I Accidentally Became a Seal
I did a lot of walking in Melbourne. Wandered into the CBD (Central Business District, not CDC, which I kept calling it for ages). I visited the Immigration Museum, which was equal parts heartbreaking and hopeful. Museums get me when I travel. It’s like I need to cry in every city or I haven’t really arrived.
And I got a haircut. Which turned out to be the worst haircut of my life. I looked like a seal. Full-on seal energy. Andy cried laughing when he saw it.
In Summary…
Melbourne was weird and lovely and full of vegan food. I reconnected with two amazing humans and their rather cute, slightly demanding fur baby, ate my weight in plant-based pub meals, got paranoid about customs soil inspections, and accidentally joined the hipster masses of Fitzroy.
Next up: we leave the city and head for Bright, in the Australian Alps. Spoiler alert, it’s stunning.
Before You Go…
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