The last two weeks before this trip, it felt like I had developed a version of Magneto’s power which unfortunately attracted sick people instead of badass magnet powers. Sick-neto: out to curse your vacations and long-haul flights! A villain if there ever was one.
Fortunately, I managed to avoid all headcold-catching (and hopefully this trend continues), which meant I only had to stubbornly endure the 14 hour plane ride by sleeping as much as I possibly could.
The combination of night flight + dramamine helped me sleep 10 hours – high score! I would probably be good enough to drive on the left.
We landed in Sydney just before 8 am – but, more importantly, we landed in summer. Green exploded everywhere, and palm trees swayed in warm breezes. It was early yet and had just rained, and it smelled of summer things like flowers and mowed lawn and airports (it also smelled of armpits). It was a glorious shock to our winter-laden senses.
The last flight to Melbourne was a quick hour and a half hop, and then it was time to find the rental car and drive on the left, on the left, on the left.
Keeping left isn’t all that bad in the city where you’ve got other cars to follow. My overtiredness fueled my confidence: after all, I had the same model as my car at home and I hadn’t been the cause of anyone’s death in New Zealand.
There was one thing I didn’t realize until we had gotten on to the highway. When driving on the left, it’s really the combination of all the other small skills which you never think about on a daily basis that will do you in if you’re not careful:
- The rearview mirror is on your left
- Wipers and turn signal are swapped
- The shift thingy (technical car words, watch out) is also on the other side
- Somehow it is really easy to hug the left side of your lane/the curb when driving
I only had one wipers-not-signal incident when I was flustered by what seemed like a very not legal but actually legal turn near our rental house.
Melbourne has weird streets and weird street signs. The cars drive all up in the trolley’s space except for when they don’t, and there are huge roads which are divided by the trolley line. The trolley follows its own signals and I am pretty sure it wants to get me.
We made it to the rental house without being killed by the trolley, a bus, or driving on the wrong side. This is a great victory for me. After unpacking and relishing the sweet post-30 hours of transit shower, we set out to explore St Kilda a bit more.
St Kilda is home to funky architecture, bakeries, cafes, beaches, and a botanical garden.
We walked over to the botanical garden, which was a small but lovely oasis in the middle of urban life. It boasted giant plants, roses, a tree named Frisky, and a fountain. There were lots of people out enjoying their Saturday afternoon in the park.
On the way home, we stopped for groceries and felt obliged to pick up a small jar of Vegemite along with our normal items.
I have only had vegemite once before – when I taught at Emix in Chiba, we had an Australian teacher who had brought some for everyone to try. I didn’t find it too bad – it was quite salty – and had been prepared by a pro Australian.
Rhett slathered it on his bread and the regrets began to flow:
We learned from Hugh Jackman and the internet that perhaps we have just done it wrong:
Maybe vegemite will have another shot with us after we buy some butter…!
We made plans to visit the Yarra Valley tomorrow and after dinner attempted to keep ourselves awake with a game of Scrabble. Predictably around 630 or 7, my brain hit the impossible jet lag mush wall and it was time for bed.
Except for the fact that it is summer at 830 pm: still quite bright outside. Too bright for sleeping. The next best option is to clearly work on a blog post until my eyes cross with every blink and I can’t figure out how to spell most words.
Tomorrow: more drivin’ on the left!