The weather was supposed to be good. 29 degrees and sunshine, but when I awoke in the morning, this was obviously not the case. It sure was hot, but there was no sunshine. I'd planned to take the tram the opposite way from normal, out of the city and towards St Kilda to wile away my hours on the beach. But I shelved this and headed into the city instead. One of the things on my to do list was to head back to the street where Jessica and I had had dinner that evening as she said it was very bohemian and there were lots of vintage shops.
I caught the tram from St Kilda Road to Swanston and from there I got on a tram heading to somewhere but via "Smith Street", which I remembered was what the street was called. Heading back into the city, I noticed how busy it was which was something that hadn't struck me before when I was one of the ants crawling about. Lots of Japanese people filled the tram, but they got off around the "China Town" district. I got to Smith Street and decided to walk right to the end on one side of the street, then cross over and come back on myself.
I'm afraid to say that I was heavily disappointed. I suppose I had dreams of the edginess of Camden Market, but the street just didn't live up. It was dirty, Bronx style. The cafes and pubs all looked quite dingy and everything was black, I guess that was supposed to help represent the "alternative" feel that everybody was trying to get across. The only nice thing was that the smell of incense was making it's way down the breeze, but I think that it was emanating from one of the 'Bob Marley Rasta Smoke Shops' that seemed to be quite popular. I popped into a few of the vintage shops in hopes of finding a cute 'one of a kind' dress that I could bring home, but I was horrified. All of the clothes, in all of the shops, had obviously been pulled straight from the racks of the local Salvation Army. Clothes that you wouldn't dream of putting on, but of course, once something is labelled 'vintage', it instantly becomes desirable (I have a pair of big chunky Kickers boots from my first year in secondary school laying around somewhere that stink. I wonder if I could pawn them off on some poor impressionable soul if I just say that they're genuine vintage). $50 was the minimum price for one of these horrible ill fitting, garish garments. I decided I'd pass...
As I wandered along trying to find a tram stop, I walked passed a strings shops. I stood and pawed at the window for a while looking at the Cellos and the Violas, but I didn't dare go in. After all, what can I say about a years playing? First position doesn't get you very far in the world of the string... I rode back to the CBD and decided it was time that I found a supermarket. I'd seen a Coles Express somewhere but hadn't been able to find my way INTO wherever it was. I thought I'd try and reinvestiage this. Unfortunately, when I got off on Swanston, I realised that I had no idea where I'd seen this Coles, so I walked through the Chineesey part of town until I happened upon a "Woolworths" sign. Don't get excited. It's not like our Woolworths. It's like a Publix in America, really like a Publix. I suppose it's nearest British cousin would be Morrisons. I took my time walking around even though it was only little. I stopped to look at all the brands and products. Again, very America. Easy Mac and my nice Campbell's soups in the red jar. I bought five smart priced pot noodles, a box of cup a soups, some 'Scottish biscuits' which I supposed were like shortbread, a big bag of crisps, a bottle of water and a bottle of flavoured water all for under ten bucks and this made me very pleased. Pleased enough that I went next door to the liquor section (like America, it's usually a separate part of the shop altogether) and I bought a four litre box of wine for ten bucks. Which completely rains on all of those $8 drinks I've had in the bars...
I was loaded up like a mule by this point. The bags were flimsy and it was very quickly becoming rush hour, so time was running out for me to get back to the hotel. I managed it though, with red marks on my hands from holding the plastic bags. Time was getting on, so after I'd spoken to my Dad, I got my Subway tea, threw on a dress and had myself a glass of wine from the comfort of my bed, whilst I watched a couple of episodes of Friends. I figured that since I didn't make it to the beach in St Kilda, I might as well check out the night life, after all the next hostel I'll be going to is in St Kilda. A couple of trams came to the stop but I waited for the one that said 'Kew, via St Kilda', knowing full well that the one I needed was 'St Kilda Beach'. When I saw the words St Kilda on a tram stop further down the line, I panicked and jumped off. Just to realise I was at a weird tram and highway intersection with not a lot going for it and no tram connection to the beach. I asked a girl who was smiling at me for directions but it turned out she was Scottish and just travelling like I was. I walked down an underpass and headed along the straight tram line that I was following, and eventually found Alberts Park, which I recognised from one of my Map Quests. It seemed I was at the end of a long street (I believe it was Fitzroy Street, possibly the main one), with a Park on one side and cafes and bars all along the other. I walked for a fair while and decided that I'd see if Henry was up as I'm trying to just say Hi to everyone these next few days. He was, so we had a good chat while I walked around squinting without my glasses for a nice establishment to have a drink in.
I found this pub. Black. The Rolling Stones blaring out and lots of people hanging around outside with cigarettes and small glasses of beer (a pot? I think). I figured here was as good as any and it had a tram stop outside, so I walked up the side of the street next to it whilst I finished my conversation. The Heavens literally opened whilst I was talking to Henry. It was a good job that where I was standing, I was under and awning, but it was on a hill, so all the water eventually came running down the street and all over my good sandals. Water was gushing upward out of all of the storm drains and people were running and screaming for their lives. I believe the news said that 2cms fell in twenty five minutes. Still, I didn't mind because I had shelter. It stopped as quickly as it had started and I headed into the bar. It reminded me of an American bar. One big space with pool tables and high bar stools and people sitting at the bar. There was a band playing in the upstairs area, but it was $30 to get in and that made it not worth my time. I had a vodka lemonade and a glass of white wine but could feel myself getting tired and the rest of the crowd was beginning to filter out. I headed to the tram stop and got on a tram to East Brunswick, but panicked when I didn't recognise anything from outside of the window. I asked the driver who laughed at me, but then told me to ride the tram all through the city to Swanston Street and then pick up a tram from there, so I did that. I really don't like having to rely on the kindness and knowledge of others to get me around places. I like to be able to rely entirely on myself and this is a new feeling. I made it back to the hotel at around midnight and watched Elton John talking to some American chat show host about his baby before drifting off to dream of hunstmans.
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