New Year’s Eve in New Balances

DAY 5
LOCATION: Melbourne

I woke up congested and tired. My walk-everywhere-do-everything approach had caught up to me. Under normal conditions in my More Enlightened State, I would’ve listened to my body and taken it easy all day, reading Guenon and binging Man in the High Castle. But these were not normal conditions. A) It was my last day in Melbourne, B) I had 15 more vegan spots on my list, and C) it was New Year’s Eve.

If you read 40 Dates, you already know that I don’t put a lot of stock into arbitrary holidays where YOU MUST HAVE FUN.* But 2016 had been a pivotal year for me, and I wanted to end it on a spiritually high note, especially since I’d began it with the stomach flu. No full circle here, I’m on the vertical path, thank you very much!

I kicked off the morning with a hot yoga class at Rise Yoga. It seemed like a good idea, until halfway through the second chatauranga when I lost use of both nostrils. I’d abused my body with over-exercise for enough years to know I should stop, but the teacher was dishing out Tolle-esque wisdom and I dug the studio’s energy. I sun saluted on and justified it by taking all the child’s poses I needed.

By the end of the class, I felt a bit more grounded and a lot more sick. I picked up an immunity boosting tonic, and prayed the lemon, ginger, turmeric combo could fight the good fight. In the meantime, I would just eat really delicious vegan food and get some Vitamin D on the beach.

Learning from my coffee/yoga experience, I made a quick decision to go to Matcha Mylkbar for brunch. I got sat at a communal table with four other girls, all very hip, all eating insane looking food. Honestly, the dishes resembled art more than plants. But that’s the beauty of the exploding vegan movement – you don’t have to stop being a foodie or resign yourself to tired salads in order to save lives.

After some deliberation (soy chicken burger on matcha bun? Pumpkin gnocchi with eggplant bolognese?), I ordered the matcha pancakes with lychee, pear, berries, passionfruit, white chocolate sauce, nut crunch, lemongrass, and macadamia nut ice cream. If that sounds ridiculous, it 100% is. But it was also so yummy and pretty.

As I paid for my meal, I gushed to the cute manager about the experience. He told me they were looking to open a restaurant in Venice, California, and we got into a conversation about LA, which he loves. Sometimes I forget that my home city has some great things on offer, especially in the world of health and wellness. It was nice to be reminded.

I meandered down to the beach and along the shore. What a different experience from yesterday’s stunning display of ocean! I tried not to judge the manufactured landscape, the 20- and 30-somethings day drinking in the beachfront bars. Were they wrong for spending the holiday boozing and socializing? Were we wrong for restructuring the planet to our liking? Was I wrong for enjoying pretentious hipster food? So many questions to be reflected upon. I plopped down cross legged in the sand.

My meditation didn’t reveal any answers, but it did render my skin a shade pinker. I left the beach and wandered around St. Kilda. No wonder Matcha Mylkbar had their eyes set on Venice – it’s like the same city in a parallel universe.** Large community gardens, semi-sleazy main drag, edgy sidewalk restaurant patrons. Not a bad vibe.

Fading a bit, I walked up to Monk Bodhi Dharma for a micro-roasted brew on the recommendation of my brunch partners (“it’s amaaaaze”). Sadly, but no longer surprisingly, it was closed. I took it as a cue to check out another neighborhood, and hopped on the nearest tram.

I returned to Fitzroy and Collingwood, the parallel universe Williamsburg and Greenpoint. I browsed the vegan shoe and health food stores, snapped photos of the provocative street art, and grabbed a Liam Hemsworthy donut from Doughnut Time. Over a decaf latte at Grace (gotta love these café names), I called Rebecca to reminisce about our year.

“Can you believe a year ago I was an atheist being crushed by my addictions?” I laughed.

“No! It’s insane. We are like, completely different people,” she replied. “I’m so much happier.”

“I know, me too. And it happened so fast! Just like this switch went on. I know everyone’s thrilled for 2016 to be over, but it’s the best year I’ve ever had. Even if it’s utter madness, at least now I’m aware I’m breathing!”

I was also aware that my body wanted vegetables, so I marched on to my final Melbourne foodie destination: Lentil as Anything. A donation based restaurant in a convent, this unique establishment offers vegan meals 365 days a year to anyone and everyone. I’d saved it for tonight to celebrate the occasion.

And it was – you guessed it – closed. They’d been open for lunch, but not for dinner. I collapsed onto a bench, finally defeated by the restaurant rejection. A sweet-looking angelic creature playing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” on a ukelele came over to help me. He pulled out his phone and showed me several more places to go. I wanted to hug him, so I did.

A group of attractive teenage hippies led the way to the bus stop, and sat behind me in the rear of the bus. Two of them wore no shoes – by choice, as indicated by their smartphones. I enjoyed listening to them play the guitar and talk about life and death. I thought about saying something, joining in on their discussion of mind expansion, but decided not to - I was getting much better at this staying quiet thing. Part of me envied the commitment to their lifestyle, and part of me felt super content to have clean hair and New Balances. Was it possible to have hippie beliefs without being a full blown hippie? I kinda hoped so.

Back down in St. Kilda (full circle after all), Sister of Soul had also closed early. Clearly the restaurant gods were trying to tell me something – perhaps stop caring so much about food and just enjoy what’s in front of me? I gave up my gourmet search, got a burrito from a nearby shop, and watched the sunset over the water.

And that’s when James’s email came through. The tears flowed as I read his reflections on our past year, individually and together. His acknowledgement of my growth and his praise of my new path deeply moved me, especially since he’d been so critical of it before. I allowed myself to take his compliments, instead of instantly picking them apart and demeaning myself. So what if I hadn’t given away all of my worldly possessions and joined a monastery just quite yet? If I was still driving around a Prius and buying organic from Trader Joe’s instead of farming on a commune? Progress, not perfection.

The temperature dipped with the sun, and I headed home to Richmond. I thought about staying out for the midnight fireworks, but this time I knew I really needed to listen to my body, and it was saying SLEEP. From the balcony I watched the 10pm kiddie fireworks light up the sky, my first ever New Year’s Eve alone. But I didn’t feel lonely. I felt grateful and in awe of this crazy life.

*holiday fun (n): 1. the act of consuming excessive amounts of a festive adult beverage - i.e. champagne, green beer, egg nog, etc - until one makes out with an inappropriate partner, passes out on the lawn, or gets a DUI. 2. that which is conveyed through a highly curated Instagram or Facebook post.

**I’m not entirely convinced Australia isn’t a parallel universe. I’d been feeling this since I’d arrived, seeing familiar faces in strangers, experiencing déjà vu, living in the future (according to my writing partner Rebecca back in Austin, Texas, who was now a day behind me). Or maybe I’d been watching too much TV based on Philip K Dick.