Postcard from Melbourne

Melbourne's 'fairy tree' by Olga Cohn, MBE

Australia, for me, has to be the hardest country to blog about. This is my third visit to the place and I am yet to find anything that has made such an impact on me - for good or bad - that I felt compelled to write about it. And this is because, firstly, I obviously have not seen enough of the country and, secondly, because Australia is a nice country. Not only is it spacious, clean and friendly, but the culture is pretty easy to slip into. Admittedly, when one of the airport customs officials called me by my first name it did offend my formal, English sensibilities; after all, we had not been introduced, I didn’t think we were on a date and, more importantly, he was just a whippersnapper. But that is Australia. Yesterday, when out roaming Melbourne I found myself sucked into quite a few conversations. It was a little unnerving at first; I had gone to get a morning coffee and while ordering my cappuccino was asked by the waiter if I had a busy day lined up, where I would be going, was there anything I had planned on seeing…. So much so that I instantly had flashbacks to American passport control.

But as a tourist, that easy friendliness is what I like about Australia. As a London-suburbanite it can be hard to fathom because, let’s face it, in the southeast of England we don’t talk to each other even though we can be forced to be intimate every day - squashing up together on the underground so close that we could be making love. So for us it can be hard to interpret that Australian friendliness. For instance, when I found a set of car keys in a café yesterday and asked two nearby businessmen if they belonged to them (they did), I was told by one, “But it’s a great way to meet people.” Now if a man in London came out with that line it is unlikely he’d be sober (which is probably why he lost his keys in the first place).

And just to add to Melbourne’s friendliness the city has parked red-shirted volunteers around the place to help out any confused tourists. Now, one asks, just what is wrong with the London system of tourists approaching somebody for directions and being told either, “I don’t speak English,” or “I’m not from here.”? It’s worked in London for years, but for some reason that system just ain’t good enough for the Aussies.

So after all this praise of Australian affability, what did I end up doing? What Australian attractions drew my attention? Well, there was Captain Cook’s cottage, which has been transported from Yorkshire, England, to a public park, there was a model Tudor English village to look at, and, finally, I spent the afternoon soaking up a beautiful exhibition at the Immigration Museum…. on Hampi, India. In between, I met my cousin Ruth for a curry at lunchtime. So with Tudor England, a Yorkshire cottage with its authentic English kitchen garden, and the sights, sounds and tastes of India, I think I am yet to discover Australian culture. But there is still time.