Melbourne Madness

We knew we were taking a chance, driving towards the coast with two days left in the holiday break, but temperatures were so cold in the Snowy Mountains, we decided to brave the crowds.  We arrived in Eden to something totally unexpected… a quiet, coastal town.  The holiday park where we camped was mostly vacant.  It was wonderful.  The owner told us it was the first quiet day since before Christmas.  We were all grateful.

We traveled to Phillips Island and camped there, hoping to see more wildlife before heading on towards Melbourne.  The following day, we hiked the Nodules area of the Island, hoping to see some fairy penguins in their burrows.  We found plenty of burrows, but, alas, no penguins.  We did see, however, our first Cape Barren goose, known for its bright green bill.  It is considered one of the rarest of geese.  In the 1950s these geese were saved from extinction.  

Cape Barren Goose

Of course, we also saw a few more sweet-faced wallabies.

I awoke the next morning barely able to scoot out of bed.   My left hip had gone out, along with my sciatica, probably because of all the bouncing on those wretched seats in the campervan.  I was in enormous pain.

We were due to catch the ferry to Tasmania on Saturday.  We decided to drive into Melbourne Thursday afternoon, in hopes we might find a chiropractor who utilized the activator method.  We also wanted to do laundry before we headed to the island.  

We did find a chiropractor. Unfortunately, he was downtown.  Trying to navigate city streets to find a parking spot in The Beast was challenging, to say the least.  The chiropractor tried to help me but wasn’t able to do much to relieve the pain. He did offer me an elastic brace to go around my hips.  It has enabled me to at least get out of bed in the morning, although it takes a good 20-30 minutes of walking in the morning to limber up sufficiently so I can tie my left boot.  Sadly, if we're in a hurry, David has to tie it.

I’m not quite certain what to tell you about Melbourne other than it appears to be the most unfriendly city in the entire world.  I have driven in the congested centers of highly-populated Mexican towns, across the entire breadth of Canada and the U.S., and much of Europe.  Never in my entire life have I been cursed at, honked at, or gestured at more than here.  

We have grown use to Australian tailgaters over the last two months.  The truck drivers here make ours in the States look like gentlemen.  It is not unusual to see the words "Cummings" backwards in my rear-view mirror.  If I don't pull over, they honk.  If I do, they honk.  I'm also not quite certain why so many Australians tailgate so closely that you can't see their headlights but are reluctant to pass when the opportunity arises.  Again, if I don't pull over, they honk.  If I do, they honk... and most not nicely, I might add.  (Albeit, there are some who wave and beep kindly.)

The drivers in Melbourne, however, are beyond aggressive.  As an example of their aggressiveness, in heavy traffic one fellow pulled his car along side our van, rolled down his window and began shaking his fist and shouting profanity at me.  The worst part?  I still don’t have a clue why.  A fellow in our campground agreed.  An Aussie, he travels Australia for a living and said, “without a doubt, the blokes in Melbourne are the worst.”

And it wasn’t just me and my driving that angered them.  We witnessed a city worker driving a truck shout and move his truck intimidatingly and menacingly close to a poor woman trying to parallel park her car to pick up her child from school.  

The aggressive driving continued our entire time in the city.  While we were making the convoluted drive from the campground through the bowels of Melbourne's inner city to the ferry terminal (at five in the morning), one cheeky bugger passed me on the left in the bike lane because we hesitated, not certain which road to take out of the roundabout.  David shouted.  I slammed on the brakes and just barely missed the other vehicle as he swerved in front of me, nearly taking off the front bumper.

As we entered the ferry terminal, the customs agents took my four apples and one potato.  Tasmania allows no vegetables, nuts, or seeds on the island. Thankfully David had discovered that little tidbit of information before we re-provisioned.  It didn’t matter.  I was just thrilled we would be on the ferry and out of Melbourne.  

David has already plotted our way straight out of Melbourne when we return by ferry three weeks from now. Jiminey Crickets!