To & From MEL, with Love

Australia. The world’s sixth largest country with 27 million people and nearly 3 million square miles of land (about the size of mainland USA). The robust island continent is located in the Indian Ocean nearly 9,800 miles on the other side of the world from Grand Rapids, Michigan and 15-16-hours ahead of the Eastern time zone. It’s wild and wide range of arid deserts, rolling hills, Australian Alps, cliffside beaches, Great Barrier Reef, and lush rainforests are home to unique, iconic fauna and flora like koalas, platypus, kangaroos, crocodiles, and 21 of the world’s 25 most venomous snakes. According to The Nature Conservancy, more than 80% of Australia's mammals, reptiles, and frogs are found nowhere else on Earth.

While not officially founded as a modern nation until 1901, its indigenous culture is one of the oldest, dating back 50-65,000 years. The country’s motto of “Advance Australia” is illustrated in its coat of arms through imagery of the kangaroo and emu (both have difficulty walking backwards). More important and relevant to me, Melbourne, Australia is home for the next year to my nephew, Ben Bishop. This gave me the perfect excuse

to live my bucket list adventure.

Lost Day and First Night

Traveling to Melbourne is not for the faint of heart. The journey from DTW to DEN to LAX to MEL took more than 21-hours of flight time. In a bizarre “Twilight Zone” moment, my Thursday was completely lost. Not just flown through, but literally, skipped over. From LA, I departed late Wednesday and landed early Friday morning. I’m still wrapping my head around that one. Curiously proud feat: I elected the window seat for the 14-hour flight and only got up once. Not bad, old man.

Navigating the Sky Bus from the airport to downtown Melbourne couldn’t have been easier. A tip: budget use of your smartphone. Yes, it’s about $10 a day, but I seriously don’t know what I would’ve done without it. It saved my arse on several occasions, this being the first. (ApplePay is also super helpful.) A $25 ride on public transport put me at Southern Cross Station with an easy 20-minute walk to my comfortably austere one-bedroom apartment on the fourteenth floor of a high-rise in the heart of Southbank. Fyi, hotels are uber expensive. I found this lovely airbnb reasonably priced and excellently situated for my week’s stay.

After getting refreshed and settled, a straight-line, 10-minute walk brought me to my nephew’s place for our first greeting down under. Ben is a good looking, smart and savvy 23-year-old dual-linguist from Waterloo, Ontario, Canada living in Melbourne for a year as a substitute teacher. He’s quick with a smile, easy-going, and always up for whatever the moment offers. We spend late afternoon wandering the accessible Yarra River cityscape of Melbourne while catching up. Ben is joined in Melbourne by good friends from his college days at Queen’s University, Matt (also visiting), Zoe, and girlfriend, Heather. They are an intelligent, energetic, collegial clan of friends enjoying adventures abroad.

Being characteristic dudes, Ben and I grab food at a nondescript sandwich-pizza joint and agree, rather than craft our own tedious, disorderedly excursion the following day, we’ll book one. After a quick Google search, we find the perfect outing (at a very reasonable price): the famous penguin parade. Is booking an essential excursion the night beforehand chaotic and shortsighted? Maybe. I prefer the term, serendipitous.

Albino-Roo & Penguin Parade

Saturday started slow and serene; just what the jetlag ordered. After leisurely completing my morning routine, Ben and I began our guided excursion with a stop at Moonlit Sanctuary, a 25-acre reserve with more than 400 animals of 60 species. For nearly an hour, we experienced some of Australia’s most beloved critters up close and personal. Koula’s lounged lazily in nooks of tree limbs. Emus roamed dusty havens. Reptiles slithered and waddled through glass-walled shelters. Spiders slung suspended in menacing webs. Owls, eagles, and peregrines perched pensively. Wallabies and kangaroos freely roamed amongst us, happily munching pellets from eagerly outstretched hands. Among the many highlights, one stood out: Coconut, the albino baby kangaroo. She’s a little over a year old and still nursing. Albinos are a rare occurrence in the wild, and we could see why. Coconut stood out like a tasty tenderloin at a kale seitan party.

Our next stop took us to the picturesque sandy shoreline of Woolamai Surf Beach for quick photos and then off to the seaside city of Cowes. This beach town reminded me of Grand Haven and Pentwater, and our lunch location boasted the best fish and chips in the city. Who are we to argue? Tummies full, we made a hasty march through the local craft fair, reboarded our bus, and continued onward to our final destination.

The day’s much anticipated main event brought us to the coastline of Philip Island, a 40-square-mile natural reserve famous for its 40,000 inhabitants fondly known as the little penguins, little blue penguins, or my favorite, fairy penguins. At 14 inches and three pounds, these tiny tots are the smallest of all penguins. The nightfall outing started with an ambling motorized tour of grassy highlands complete with sightings of grazing wallabies. We parked and entered the visitor center, enjoying educational videos, imagery, and descriptions of the world’s penguins. Did you know there are eighteen distinct species, some on the southernly tip of Africa? And more aptly, in groups on the beach, penguins are referred to as a waddle. In groups in the water, they are called a raft. You’re welcome.

Finally, the celebrated event was nearly upon us. We took the boardwalk to the bleachers and waited. Blustery, southern wind-swells from distant neighboring Antarctica rushed past as we gathered with 2,000 spectators in anticipation of the arrival of our little friends. About an hour after sunset, we spotted the first waddle of approximately eight fairy penguins. Timidly, they ebbed and flowed from the seashore, up the beach, into the grasslands, toward their nests, incessantly squawking comfort to each other and their mates. Ben and I relocated to seats closer to the waterline watching several more rafts become waddles as chilly gusts cut through us. The official count for the evening’s ingress was near 600. While this oceanic homecoming was special, the real magic was about to begin.

As we exited the beachfront, we strolled the boardwalk within a few feet of the returning penguins. They toddled their way, bellowing and bobbling home after hours of foraging in the sea. In the midst of this, Ben and I witnessed a peculiar animal crawling, seemingly stalking across the sandy trail. It was about the size of a small wallaby but with a long, furry tail (I thought it looked like a lemur). We both exclaimed, “Did you see that?!” Later, we discovered it

was likely a brushtail possum, quite unlike our opossums back home. We continued to follow several penguins toward their nests until they disappeared into the shadowy, thick brush. All that remained were the penguin’s echoing acclaims of reunion from a long day of fishing. After a sleepy, 90-minute bus ride, we returned to our individual Southbank bunks with memories of a most serendipitous excursion.

Old Friend, New Trail

In August 2019, I met Martin as part of my small cohort at the Center for Action & Contemplation’s Living School in New Mexico. For two years, we studied and shared insights of contemplative perennial philosophies within the framework of the mystical Christian tradition, meeting through Zoom every couple weeks or so. Martin, an Aussie, lives in the outskirts of Melbourne. Ben and I were fortunate enough to spend our Sunday in his company.

Martin is a delightful, eclectic, unique mix of a creative-intellectual. His passion is art, although he claims he can’t draw, paint or create music. He curates a collection of Australian artwork at his estate in the rolling countryside about 45-miles east of the city. (Sidenote: it took me about an hour to figure out how to get there using public transportation. With Ben’s help, and a borrowed myki card, we made it without incident via bus, tram, and train.) Martin graciously hosted us at his homestead sharing intimate views and stories of artwork collected throughout Australia. Let me just say: the collection is stunning, as is his home-gallery-farm.

Following a light lunch, Martin introduced us to the trails of the Dandenong Range. We were immediately greeted by three natives; a kookaburra and two crimson rosella parrots. This trail was my first immersion in Australia’s rainforests (one-minute video experience). The terra firma is ancient. The trees, primordial. It smells wonderfully musky and pungent like Earth and dirt and worms and life. The day is warm, but temperate in the shade. Giant mountain ash trees tower overhead dripping long thin shards of bark that look like vines. Abundantly lush brush blankets every trace of forest floor just off the beaten path. We gaze in astonishment at this prehistoric greenwood that time forgot.

The last leg of the walkabout tops off with a strenuously steep hike that takes everything I’ve got. Good thing I’m not wearing thongs, like Ben! (The term “thongs” is Australian for “flip-flops” and in fairness to Ben, he handled it fine and didn’t know we’d be hiking.) Before today, I wouldn’t have guessed Australia had rainforests. I imagined the interior countryside mostly as desert outback. Once again, lesson learned. The hike ends and we return to the train station for our ride back to the city. G’day mate, my friend, Martin. It was a privilege and honor to see you in your beaut abode. I hope our paths cross again.

Melbourne on a Monday

Sunday evening was a lovely respite of laundry and reading. The Melbournian

adventure continued the next day when I first met Ben’s friend, Matt. Matt is a ridiculously intelligent, learned historian and military strategist. The two of them were roommates in college and Matt was in his third week of a three-week visit. He joined us for our “free” walking tour of the city.

Our guide is the effervescent Sam, a bundle of energy who could project like a bullfrog through a bullhorn. He is the perfect conductor for a walking tour happening today because it’s Australia’s version of Labor Day. This reminds me, the weather in Australia is opposite of Michigan. They are just finishing summer. The beginning of March signifies the start of autumn, like the beginning of September for us. Also, northern Australia (Sydney) is warm, kind of like Florida, whereas southern Australia (Melbourne) is cooler. Today is a holiday and the streets are packed.

Obviously, I can’t recount the entire tour. Suffice to say, we visited all the top hits of Melbourne. By the way, Batman is widely accepted as the original founder of the city. Truth. And, in 1835, the city’s original name was Batmania. Well, okay, John Batman is the full name of the founder. In his explorations (and a sketchy treaty with the indigenous), he famously declared, “this will be the place for a village.” The city held the name Batmania until 1837, when it was changed to Melbourne to honor a lord in Queen Victoria’s cabinet. Anywho, check out this list and pics of sights we saw in our two-hour jaunt:

Federation Square

Yarra River

Flinders Street Railway Station

St Paul's Cathedral

Hosier Lane

Degraves Street

Melbourne Town Hall

The Block Arcade

Royal Arcade

Bourke Street Mall

Chinatown

State Library Victoria

Melbourne Central

Coop's Shot Tower

Old Melbourne Gaol

Melbourne City Baths

Queen Victoria Market

One of the most interesting stories Sam shared was the defiant audacity of notorious scallywag and folk hero, Ned Kelly (Australia’s variant of Robin Hood or Billy the Kid). He stole from travelers and escaped authorities by plunging into the thick Australian brush, earning him the label, bushranger. He was admired by settlers and hunted by the law. Kelly is famous for his homemade iron armor and portentous last words. After being sentenced to death by hanging, he simply muttered, “Such is life.”

After the tour, we grabbed a quick bite of lunch and kept going, making our way to the third busiest library in the world, the State Library Victoria. Founded in 1854, it was one of the first free libraries in the world. In addition to other items, we viewed Ned Kelly’s original armor along with the building’s celebrated architecture. Next, we meandered our way to the Shrine of Remembrance, a somber homage to Australians who have served in both conflict and peace. It was a sobering tribute to the realities of war, and inspirational hope for the promise of human dignity and goodwill. The stately monument stands 200 feet tall with an exterior balcony boasting one of the best full circle views of the city and surrounding gardens.

Leaving the Shrine, we walk our way through the adjacent Royal Botanical Gardens. We took in a good portion of its 94-acres and roughly 50,000 plants (I lost count halfway through). The park was filled with locals. Couples were enjoying boat rides on the pond while children chased butterflies in wildflower courtyards. People were walking dogs, sipping coffee, and chatting with friends as laughter mingled with the multitude of birdsongs. The public display of community and culture was encouraging, especially in these troubling times.

27,000+ steps later, Matt, Ben, and I collapsed into the welcomed comfort of an Italian restaurant with views of the Yarra River. We imbibed in chosen spirts. Mine, no surprise, an Old Fashioned. Drinks were okay (no Luxardos), dinner was very good (spaghetti and meatballs), but discussion, now that was a sumptuous repast (for you, brother Tom). Matt and Ben are both culturally experienced, well-educated young men. They’re curious and morally driven with an authentic stake in the sustainability of our world. The conversation was richly flavored in politics, the economy, and historical lessons learned, or not.

The Great Ocean Road: Part I

Today, I hit the road. That is, I hit Australia’s Great Ocean Road. This 150-mile stretch of highway was built between 1919 and 1932 by returning soldiers from World War I. Construction of this scenic route not only connected coastal towns, it also provided much needed work for veterans as they reacclimated into society.

Today is also the day I’m most anxious about. Eurocar rental is a quick 10-minute walk from my place. My car is booked. Accommodations are set. Google maps are easily accessible. No problems there.

As I walk, I can feel my blood pressure rise. My mind gently reminds my lungs to take it easy. Slow, steady breathing. Helpful mantras resound on repeat. My good ol’ pal, Mr. Anxiety has decided to join me on this part of the journey. Why? Well, Aussie’s drive on the opposite side of the road. More so, their cars are laid out in the opposite, inversed way. I remind myself, I can do this.

I get settled in my spanky white Kia. Pulling out of the lot is harrowing. It feels like an act of foolish courage. My brother’s line plays through my mind, “What could possibly go wrong?” I refuse to respond, Dano. I’m on the correct side of the road, but it feels dangerously peculiar. I fight deeply seeded instincts and proceed, making sure to err toward the left lane. It works… mostly. Suddenly, Siri interrupts my thoughts and instructs me to take the next left followed by a dreaded right, crossing against traffic. I freak out, turning on the wipers instead of the blinker, making my best guess in real time and praying I’m right. My freak out turns out to be on route. I swear, exhale, and continue. Several unsettling turns later I make it to the highway, only turning on the wipers, instead of the blinker, four more times.

Twenty minutes in and I’ve got a pretty good feel for things. Even better, the traffic begins to thin out. I’m guessing this is because it’s the day after Labor Day. Most people are back to work. Today’s adventure takes me 120-miles west to Apollo Bay. My first stop is Point Addis Marine Park and the beginning of the Great Otway National Park. It’s a beautiful, sunny day. Temps are low 80s with a light, salty breeze. Now that I’ve adapted, the highway becomes a delightful adventure. The road rises and falls, shifting from ocean level beaches up and through sharp, cliff-lined turns with nothing on the other side but blue sky. It’s an exhilarating, breathtaking drive, reminding me of highway 1 near Big Sur, Cali.

I arrive in Apollo Bay mid-afternoon, checking into my cute and clean hotel room. I travel light, so there’s not much to unload. Knowing myself, I grab my keys and head out for a few off-road excursions, realizing if I stop to rest, I may not go back out. A twenty-minute drive delivers me to the most remarkable rainforest trail called, Maits Rest. It’s light-duty hiking with a short, 30-minute loop, but wow, the prehistoric, earthy sensation is overwhelming. Writing this at the end of my trip, I can say, Maits Rest was my favorite, most sensual rainforest hike. It felt like the landscape was working its way through my flesh and into my bones. I practically had the place to myself, so I took my time. I sat on fallen trunks, touched many of the leaves, and breathed in as much as I could. This place left its mark. Somehow, it feels like a little piece of Maits Rest traversed home with me.

After that brilliant experience, I was hungry for more. I “googled” sanctuaries and nature trails, driving up and down backroads, immersing myself in the surprisingly robust rolling hills. I wasn’t alone on the road. I was joined by herds of cows and grazing sheep in golden-flecked hills.

On my final off-the-beaten-path adventure, I drove through a thick forested canopy on a steep, winding gravel road that was clearly only one-lane at times. The road parted. To the left was a gate blocking access to rolling farmland. To the right were two weathered wooden posts covered in spiked wire fencing with a sign, “Private road. No turnaround ahead.” Googlemaps indicated I was only a minute drive from my desired destination. I cautiously crept forward to peek around the corner, reminding myself I was in a foreign country and this wasn’t a good moment for aggressive risk taking. Slowly skulking ahead, I catch a glimpse of a black bear about 50 yards ahead! It sees me and abruptly stands up, resting its paws on its belly. Wait. That’s no black bear. That’s a black kangaroo. I put the car in park, quietly open the door and sneak a quick photo. Unimpressed, it watches me as it nibbles the brush. I warily returned to my seat and slowly back out, returning to the main road satisfied with my gamble in the wild.

Returning to the Sandpiper Inn, a recommendation from Martin kept nudging me. “You’ve got to try kangaroo while you’re here,” he said. “Done right, it’s delicious.” After freshening up, I do a quick search and find what I’m looking for at Casalingo. It’s a quick, 15-minute walk through the backside of town where I catch locals in hearty games of lawn bowling at the Apollo Bay Bowls Club. About fifty Aussies of all ages are rolling multi-colored balls on a sizable green, carpeted court, while laughing, teasing and patting each other on the back. It puts a big grin on my face. I love it when life brings little surprises like this. After watching for a bit, I carry on to dinner. That night, after seeing my first kangaroo in the wild, I eat my first plate of wild kangaroo. Martin didn’t lie. Kangaroo meat is tender, moist and very much like an excellent steak. Yum.

The Great Ocean Road: Part II

I’m a pretty typical dude. Although I have general plans, I don’t really know specifics. Waking up, I wasn’t sure what this day held. I knew I needed to be in the next city by nightfall, but it was only two-to-three hours away. The big item on today’s list is the famous Twelve Apostles rock formations along the coastline. But surely there’s time for more. And wow, did I luck out. Enter the next escapade on the agenda: Fly Otway Treetop Adventures.

Located in the Otway Rainforest National Park, an hour drive from Apollo Bay, is the breathtaking, leg-wiggling, Fly Otway Treetop Adventures. It’s like a nature theme park with ziplining and a 2,000-foot-long metal walkway more than ten stories above the floor of the rainforest. It was the first drizzly day of the trip, so I didn’t do the zipline, but I did opt for the treetop walk. Before I share about the walkway, I have to describe the trek in. If you’ve ever driven Hawaii’s “Road to Hana” you’ll understand where I’m going with this. The drive to Treetop Adventure is insane. It’s full of seriously nerve-wracking hairpin turns in a rainforest with multiple one-lane stretches. Halfway through I was bemoaning my decision. Later, after my experience, I recanted this. It’s outlandish, yes, but worth the drive (even on the wrong side of the road).

Okay, the Treetop Adventure walkway. A reminder, I’m in a rainforest, so it’s a similar experience to what I’ve previously described. The difference is the colossal metal walkway in the sky. It starts with a gentle ascent rising 90-feet above ground, then ultimately, to the spiral staircase known as Knights Tower, extending the height to 154-feet. Oh, and by the way, the whole thing sways. Yes, it swings with the wind currents. I was there on a slightly rainy, breezy day. It was moving. Like most astounding natural sights, photos simply don’t do it justice. Imagine a slightly vacillating, three-foot wide, metal boardwalk extending about halfway up the Amway Grand Hotel and being able to see through the steel walkway to the ground. Very cool, and slightly terrifying.

Onward to the Twelve Apostles. These stunning limestone formations were created through ten-to-twenty million years of erosion. They’re called sea stacks and they tower more than 150-feet high. The sites original name was “Sow and Piglets”, but it was changed to the Twelve Apostles in the 1920s to attract more tourists.

On this leg of the journey three things are happening. First, I’m starting to get road weary. Second, it’s raining intermittently. Third, it turns out, while the Twelve Apostles are beautiful, this day includes multiple views of the same phenomena. Again, cool, but after getting completely drenched at the final overlook, I could’ve overlooked the last stop. The two stops I’d recommend are Gibson Steps and the Twelve Apostles National Park. Gibson Steps gets you on the beach. You can see and touch the limestone cliff walls. Just up the road is the National Park boasting excellent views from the top of the cliffs. I got caught in a downpour at Loch Ard Gorge. It was another unique view of the sea stacks. If I hadn’t gotten so wet, maybe I’d keep that on the list.

Tower Hill Wildlife Reserve is a great little stop along the path. It’s a 1,500-acre volcanic crater featuring native wetlands and bushlands. Upon arrival, I was greeted by two emus waltzing around like they owned the place. Next, I caught sight of a koala cozied up in the crook of a nearby tree. Thinking this was an amazing, well-populated animal sanctuary, I enthusiastically embarked on two hikes, each about 45-minutes long. Both loops spanned the circumference of pondlike lakes. The walks were lovely, but I didn’t see any more animals until I got back to the parking lot, where I spied two more koalas. I tried not to be too disappointed. As my brother likes to say, the secret to happiness is low expectations.

My final destination on the Great Ocean Road was the excessively charming and quaint Port Fairy, population of 3,700. To get a feel for the community, I asked around and discovered locals like a pub called, The Stump. It was hopping. The right side is a sit down restaurant. The left side consists of a sports tavern with several high tops and a long bar with stools facing multiple televisions. I grab a seat at the bar and order an Aussie brew, Carlton Draught, for $7. This is probably a good time to mention how expensive items are in Australia. A 16 oz. carton of Ben & Jerry’s was $14.50… on sale. A bottle of Aveda body lotion, $20. A small bag of popcorn, $6. The U.S. dollar conversion rate is currently about 1.4, which was nice for me. The local favorite at The Stump is, of course, fish and chips, at nearly $30. It was good with a second brew.

I participate in people-watching, listening to Aussie’s share stories while catching up with friends and family, including kids. Locals are friendly and expressive with loud laughs and quick jibes bantered about the room in characteristic Aussie dialect. On the screen is football. Well, not football as we know it, and no, not soccer. It’s called the AFL (Australian Football League), also known as footy. Since I will be going to a game the next day, I spend time researching its rules, finding it quite bizarre and fun. Something to look forward to as I begin to wind down my trip.

Running on Empty

Thursday morning in Port Fairy. At this point, I’m travel tired with only one more day in Australia. The weather is turning colder and more overcast. I’m starting to miss all the little things we take for granted, like driving on the right side of the road. I decide my best plan is simply to return to Melbourne via the inland route, about a three-to-four hour drive. The car is due back by 2:00 p.m., so I have plenty of time.

Driving out of Port Fairy, I’m low on gas. I want to find a station before going too far down the road. Easier said than done. On my way out of town, nothing. That’s odd. Surely, I’ll come across something soon. Nada. I’m about an hour into the drive and the gas tank is dropping, less than a quarter tank. Four ticks remain. Three ticks left. Now, this might be fine, but I have no idea where I am or how long it’ll be until the next station. There are no major cities up ahead and I’ve passed a few small towns by now, but no fuel stations. I’m mostly on these endless backroads with no cars in sight. Next thing I know, googlemaps has me driving down a rural road and the literal substance and makeup of the road changes. The black tar portion of the road becomes one-lane in the middle with black gravel on both the left and right side. This means, if I do see an oncoming car, we’ll both have to straddle the black tar portion in the middle while also driving on gravel to each side. The speed limit is 80km an hour, about 50mph, so not slow for the awkward conditions. I spy a left turn onto a dirt road and take it, stopping to gather my wits. Yes, this takes a bit.

I’m not getting a good signal on my phone. Gas is two ticks from empty. I can see I’m in the middle of nowhere with no big cities nearby. At this point, I’m reminded what Ned Kelly might say, “Such is life.”

Somewhat flustered and frustrated, I decide to backtrack about 20-30 miles, knowing I’ll hit a major city. It’s going to cost me time, but I’m in no rush and I’m starting to feel really pinched for gasoline. I plot my course and get back on the road, retracing my journey through the one-lane motorway and back to a normal rural road. It’s an overcast day, so my headlights are on. In the far-off distance, a good half mile away or more, I see a car coming my way. The closer the car gets, the more I sense something is not right. In fact, something is definitely wrong. What’s wrong? The car is still a good distance away when I realize, in my flustered state, muscle memory has taken over and I’m driving on the wrong side of the road. I quickly correct my mistake well before anything serious could happen, but now I’m doubly frazzled and I want to get back to Melbourne… NOW.

35-minutes later, I’ve refueled without incident. Crisis averted. Three hours later, I’m back in Melbourne. My final driving test is to perform a righthand U-turn, crossing oncoming traffic in the middle of downtown. I’m not even sure it’s legal, but by this time, my counterphobic nature kicks in and I own the road. Hey Eurocar, here’s your spanky Kia back.

Dusk to Dawn to Departure

Safely back in my apartment, I start a final load of laundry as I refresh and begin packing for my flight Friday morning. The afternoon is a quiet, restful reprieve after a wonderful, but sometimes stressful, road trip. Knowing tonight might be a late one, I even sneak in a quick 30-minute power nap. Ah, refreshed and renewed.

I’m super excited about tonight’s AFL footy game with Ben, Matt, and my first meet and greet with Heather, Ben’s gal pal. Ben, Matt, and I walk the now familiar path from Ben’s place to Flinders Street Station, where we catch up with Heather. She’s delightful, with energy reminding me a bit of Paulie. She has a brilliant, big smile, rapid wit, impressive smarts, and strong athletic skills. Heather is a biology-chemistry teacher originally from Ottawa with talent in volleyball and ring (also known as ringette, a version of hockey). We find a clever place at Cafe Andiamo amongst the tables in the side street near the arcades. Focaccia sandwiches are the rage as we catch up on the last few days. Ben’s big announcement is a permanent job offer for the remainder of his time in Australia. Hooroo, way to go Ben!

After dinner, we follow the crowds to the “G” stadium, which is the Melbourne Cricket Grounds. This prestigious venue was established in 1853 and its the largest stadium in the southern hemisphere, holding more than 100,000 spectators. The oval pitch is significantly larger than an American football field. Each team has 18 active players

during the game with four interchange players on the bench. AFL is a real hoot. At first, confusing, but by the end of the first quarter we have a good handle on the basic rules. It’s fast paced, taking an incredible amount of stamina, strength, grit, and gumption. Aussie fans love their footy players. Encouraging chants and lively insult are unabashedly bantered about.

Our chosen team, the Richmond Tigers, suffer a brazen beat down in the first half. The Tigers make a serious charge in the second half, ultimately falling short by only a few points, 71-75. The Carlton Blues sing their victory song as bitter rivals shake hands after a well-played match.

Afterwards, we beat the crowd to a nearby pub for a cold brew, where I meet another of Ben’s friends, Zoe. Like the others, she’s super cute, well spoken, fresh, and poised. This night ends with final farewells, first with Heather and Zoe, then Matt, and ultimately, Ben. If this friend group is any indication, there is hope for our future.

My last morning in Melbourne came quickly after a very late night; 1:00 a.m. bedtime with a 6:30 a.m. alarm. Somehow, packing came together even better on this side of the trip. The 20-minute walk to Southern Cross Station is five minutes quicker than planned. Again, easy-peasy access to the Sky Bus and a $25 one-way ticket to MEL. Terminal entrance, the security checkpoint, gate access, and initial boarding go as smooth as ever. Two big changes for the return home. First, an aisle seat makes the trip much more comfortable. And second, I’ve got a whole pack of TimTams to myself for the 14-hour flight.

Once in San Francisco, reentry goes smoothly until delays in Chicago and Detroit finally bring me home an exhausting 35-hours after leaving Southbank. Good news: I somehow recover my lost Thursday, making it back earlier than anticipated. How’d that happen? Ah, no worries, mate.

On this side of my travels, and the world, let me part ways with a gratified, “Hooroo, Melbourne. Cheers, Ben and friends. It’s been a real cracker shivoo and I’ll catch you all on the flipside!”