All the Sights
DAY: Three
LOCATION: Melbourne
Usually I spend my first night overseas tossing, turning, reading, stretching, texting, and doing just about everything except sleeping. But not in Melbourne! I zonked out for ten hours straight and woke up at 6:30am, ready to discover the city. Of course nothing was open yet, so I took the early morning hour to do some research. Like, where’s the best coffee? The best yoga? How about that place with the cool rocks?
One of the greatest things about the Internet is the amount of information available at the click of a button. Looking for vegan food in Timbuktu? Check Happy Cow. Wanting a three star hotel in the $50-100 range? Go to Booking.com or Agoda. Like the little blue dot on Google Maps, the Internet has made traveling a breeze.
It’s also made it a first world nightmare. The sheer mass of choices overwhelms the seeker, especially if you’re a perfectionist like yours truly. My coffee search turned up dozens of top ten lists, hundreds of photos of latte art, thousands of hipster reviews. FOMOOOO. Yoga yielded a slightly more manageable number of locations to choose from, especially since I was using Class Pass, but I still spent a solid 45 minutes debating which light-filled studio and blissed out instructor I should devote my morning to – #notenlightened.
In the end, I threw up my hands and went to Rustica Canteen because my host recommended it, and the “Advanced Chill” class at 213 Yoga because of its proximity. Both were fantastic. The coffee was rich and smooth, the yoga advanced and chill.* All that stressing over the “right choice” for naught! (Moral of the Story: Stop Being So Basic and Overthinking Things.)
After showering I hopped the train to Queen Victoria Market. It was… a market. Ten years ago I would’ve lost my shit over the cheap Uggs (I know, ugh), but let’s just say going vegan had ruined my appetite for consuming.** I still spend money on organic food, fair trade coffee, and experiences – a true millennial – but my interest in “stuff” has plummeted.
I quickly browsed through the rows of vendors, then hunted for my next culinary adventure: Invita Living Food. Unfortunately, Google failed me again, this time with an incorrect location. Or maybe fortunately, because then I got to meet Callum.
“Here, you should try this one,” a voice called to me.
I spun around sheepishly to see a young vendor holding out a special type of dried grape. I had just snuck a sample of apricot, and I could feel my cheeks redden at being caught.
“It’s really good,” I smiled, chewing.
“Here, try this one too. Everything’s organic and grown by us,” he offered out more samples.
We started chatting, and I learned he was also vegan. Not only that, he was about to go to Tasmania for six months on his own, with just his dog and his van.
“I’ve totally been considering van life!” I laughed. “You’ll have to let me know how it goes!”
“Here, give me your number,” he handed me his phone. “You should come out while you’re here and meet my girlfriend and our friends. They’re all vegan too.”
We talked a little while longer, until more customers showed up. He gave me a new rec for lunch – “The Auction Room, you have to get the eggplant” – and I bought some almonds and dried peaches.
The restaurant was a mile in the opposite direction from my next destination, but I figured it was worth it. Or you know, closed for the holidays. Merde. I felt a tad annoyed as I returned to the market, but this was one of the things I’d been working on – accepting things I can’t control (i.e. most things). Anyway, I finally found Invita, and my meal and juice ended up being delicious. Alls well that ends in wellness shots.
From the market, I walked to the CBD to partake in a few of Melbourne’s cultural offerings. First up, the State Library of Victoria. More than just a repository of books, the building also offers Australian artwork, exhibitions on Australian history and rare books, and a very cool view from the sixth floor. I particularly enjoyed this quote on the wall:***
Next I hit the Australian Center for Moving Images, or ACMI, in the famed Federal Square. While the Screen Worlds exhibition was visual overload and possibly a test for epilepsy, I loved the mysterious downstairs area, with its floating metallic fish balloons and avant-garde film clips. I took the five minute long take of a bizarre deep sea creature as proof that we already live among aliens, we’re just too desensitized to see it.
I completed the afternoon of Intellectual Stimulation with a visit to the National Gallery of Victoria. It’s fascinating how our beliefs shape our interpretations. For instance, all I could think about while walking through Semicircular Space, a collection of fragmented mirrors, was how schizophrenic our culture has become. The fracturing of identity witnessed on social media (I can feel it as I type this blog!!), the multiple personalities we display daily, the inability to form a complete sense of self without the needed reflection our deafening environment deprives of us. Two years ago I probably would’ve just seen an Instagram opportunity, or been disgusted with the shape of my arms.
Similarly, in the past I would’ve breezed past a collection of abstract woven works. Not today. Today I saw hexagrams symbolizing the merging of Shakti and Shiva, the feminine and masculine principles. I saw mathematical equations being played out in the physical world, energy being harnessed through geometric channels. If that sounds out there, it is – look into sacred symbolism and geometry.
Perhaps my favorite part of the museum though was at the exit: The Moving Garden. NGV patrons were invited to pluck a single stemmed flower from a cement planter box and take it with them. But only on one condition – they give it to a stranger out in the world. Yey for forging new face-to-face connections!
I selected my flower and left. Outside the rain came down in sheets. Umbrellas snapped open around me. I didn’t have one, and I didn’t care. I let the water soak through my clothes, my hair, my skin. I needed it as much as the flowers in the Botanic Garden.
I strolled along the familiar path briskly, the added element making for an entirely different experience. A new orchestra played, the melody of birds mixing with the syncopation of falling drops. The green palette deepened and glistened. At one point the rain became so heavy I took cover under a pavilion. I stood there smiling. Slow down, just breathe, I could hear nature commanding me. There’s nowhere to go, nothing to see, just be.
The rain softened, and I continued home. Thanks to the weather, I hadn’t seen anyone to give my flower to, so I decided to give it to Quinn, whom I still hadn’t met. She was at the kitchen table when I returned. We talked for over an over, about life in LA, in Melbourne, starting a family (she was very pregnant and glowy.) I remembered not every conversation has to be about veganism or civilization collapse or geopolitics. Sometimes it can just be about the lives we’re living, and that, dear reader, can be enough.
- I’m glad I didn’t let the shout out to the 213 LA area code deter me, because this class was on point. Highlight: watching the uber fit tatted guy in front of me go effortlessly from crow into a handstand in sync to Bon Iver. Whaaaattt???
** Also the documentary The True Cost. You will never shop at H&M again.
*** The genius of Dante blows my mind. I’m halfway through the Divine Comedy, and while I only grasp a tiny fraction of the incredibly dense esoteric meaning, it’s enough to convince me of the legitimacy of the spiritual path.