City of cafés, Melbourne

As I exited Melbourne airport, an Asian gentleman in a smart suit holding a placard with my name came forward smiling and helped me with my luggage.

“How are you, Sir? And how was the flight?”
Well, I had flown with the impeccable Singapore Airlines on their new Airbus 380; the flight was on time; the landing was smooth; the morning air was crisp and the sky was blue. There was little to complain about, but I managed.

“Seven hours!” I said, “Too short for an overnight flight — I couldn't sleep well.”

He nodded sympathetically. “You need coffee,” he said (where a lesser man might have said, “You need a kick in the pants”). He hurried off to get me a steaming latte and refused my offer to pay.

His gesture lightened my mood. The excellent coffee boosted it further. And driving to the city listening to this cheerful Pakistan immigrant with an MBA talking in Hindi with Lata Mangeshkar singing on the car music system (also in Hindi), made me positively buoyant. Without a trace of bitterness, he told me how he had switched from a career in sales and marketing to driving a taxi.

Out on the street
As soon as I entered my hotel room at the newly developed South Wharf, I wanted to leave it. It was comfortable and well-furnished but, through the window, the pull of the lazy Yarra River winding through the city was irresistible. Soon I was running along it on a quaint path lined with trees and shops. I passed a café, a restaurant, a café, a bookshop, a café and a shopping mall with a café at the entrance. I later learnt that Melbourne sprouted the coffee culture that Australians are so snobbish about today. (“Starbucks?” they snort with disdain, “That’s not coffee.”)

Running past people sipping elegantly, I took a small detour through the picturesque Alexandra Gardens, with shady trees and colourful flowers. Crossing the river to turn back after twenty minutes, I was pleasantly surprised to find myself running alongside the impressive Rod Laver Arena where the world’s greatest tennis players battled just a few weeks ago.

At the hotel café (of course the hotel had one!), I bought a sandwich and wolfed it down before taking an hour's snooze to compensate for that too-short-to-sleep-well flight. In the late afternoon, I took a taxi to the Melbourne Public Library, a majestic building atop broad steps where tourists sit, munching sandwiches.

Besides books, magazines and newspapers for the literary types and computer terminals for the studious, the library has some surprising attractions: a magnificent collection of rare books, artefacts, photographs and letters depicting Victoria’s history; a collection of items — from wartime ration cards to evening gowns — that Melbourne people shopped for over the years; and beautiful paintings and sculptures by famous artists.

One could spend half a day or more at the library. But, being fleet-footed, quick-eyed and fairly peckish, I covered all of the above in ninety minutes flat and walked out of the massive building looking for dinner at 6.30pm. On both sides of the road, restaurants, pubs and the omnipresent cafes were buzzing with people.

I did not have to shop (having early in my marriage impressed my wife with my lack of any trace of taste for fashion, décor and art), which was good because all the shops were closed. One imagines office-workers in Australia have to do all their shopping during their lunch or, God forbid, coffee break. At 6pm shops lower their shutters and the salespeople go home… or hit the streets. They were probably in the restaurants I was passing.

On flinders lane
After a nice meal at Ezard Restaurant on Flinders Lane, I walked along the river on my morning's jogging path. Walking leisurely now, instead of puffing and panting, and in the caress of a cool night (the temperature was 12o Celsius), I could better appreciate my surroundings. I descended a winding iron staircase with a Grecian restaurant halfway (since I've never eaten Grecian food, I checked the dictionary later and learnt it is another work for Greek but, since I’ve never eaten Greek food, this didn’t help much) and reached the river bank.

The dark water danced with the lights of the city reflected in it. Locals and tourists mingled on the path and in the dozens of restaurants lining the river. I passed a man playing a guitar, another playing a saxophone, one on drums and finally an acrobat performing street circus accompanied by his own commentary (he had a mike clipped to the side of his head).

I passed Crown Casino, Melbourne’s only gambling den and walked by an office selling tickets for river cruises. Across the river, Victoria University and an aquarium loomed over the water. Near my hotel is Melbourne’s convention centre, with a large sailing ship (named “Polly Woodside” in case you were wondering) anchored in an inlet connected to the river. While I passed by these pretty spots without stopping, I mention them so that, when you visit, you don’t imitate me but stop at each to spend time (and, in the case of the casino, money). You should also visit the
Esplanade and beachfront at St. Kilda, take a bush-land walk at Studley Park, laze at the Botanical Gardens and, if you have the time, make day trips to the Surf Coast, Yarra Valley and Mornington Peninsula.

After two days of meetings, I took the morning flight back to Singapore.

“How was the flight?” my wife asked that evening.

“Seven hours!” I whined, “Way too long for a day flight.”