As far as cities go, it has an unusual origin story that’s worth highlighting. When the Australian colonies federated in 1901, rivals Sydney and Melbourne couldn’t agree on the new government’s location. As a compromise, they specified a capital city somewhere in the state of New South Wales, but at least 160 km away from Sydney. The current site was selected in 1911, and was followed by an international competition to design the city layout. The winning team was a husband-and-wife duo from Chicago, Marion and Walter Burley Griffin. One of the key features of the Burley Griffin design was a “land axis” from Mount Ainslie to the future capital hill, and a perpendicular “water axis” along the Molongo River. Parliament officially moved to Canberra in 1927, working in a temporary building as the city was gradually built up. In 1968, the construction of a dam turned the river into Lake Burley Griffin, now the focal point of the city. The Old Parliament House was superseded by the current Parliament House in 1988 – more on both buildings later. From the Parliament House, two radial roads emanate like spokes, one towards the CBD and one towards the defense precinct, creating the Parliament Triangle.

​I flew from Melbourne to Canberra, an easy <1 hour journey. The first three nights, I stayed at a hostel in the CBD. It was the only hostel in Canberra, and a sad place. One of my roommates was an overly chatty middle aged Australian man who narrated the entire process of booking a flight to the Philippines. At one point, I encountered a drunk skateboarder vomiting on the sidewalk in front. Apart from that, it was a central location and the rest of the area was fine. On the way to get groceries, I walked through a polished shopping mall with a Lego store – the center display was a minifig taking a selfie with a kangaroo.

Like Washington DC, the concentration of top-tier museums is one of Canberra’s strongest points. I visited 8 different galleries, and all of them were free! The first was the National Gallery of Australia (NGA), home to impressive international works and even better Australian ones.

A particular highlight of the NGA was a gallery dedicated to Vincent Namatjira, whose colorful and playfully irreverent paintings lampooned colonial icons (like the royal family) and celebrated the musicians and athletes that inspired him. One series of paintings told the life story of his great grandfather, Albert Namatjira, also a famous painter.

I liked Sidney Nolan’s series of paintings chronicling the life of bushranger Ned Kelly, drawn with a cartoonish representation of Kelly’s signature suit of armor (which I had just seen in Melbourne).

An enormous room of hollow log coffins arranged in the shape of a specific river in the Northern Territory was a beautiful memorial to Aboriginal people killed by European settlers.
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Another powerful work with colonial themes was a painting by Gordon Bennett that adapted imagery from 9/11 and Jean-Michel Basquiat into an Australian invasion setting.

​But my gallery visit didn’t stop when I left the building! As part of the Enlighten Festival, there was a live concert right outside, featuring a rapper named Briggs from the rural city of Shepparton, and he was very proud of his backwater roots. The concert led up to the start of the light projections, the signature feature of the Enlighten Festival where prominent Canberra buildings are dressed up with colorful animations. The animations are different every year and reflect the building’s spirit. The NGA show was titled “Aboriginal All-Stars” and projected Vincent Namatjira’s dazzling artwork onto this grand canvas, which I thoroughly enjoyed.

​Some of the other noteworthy Enlighten displays included cartoon characters running silly science experiments on the Questacon, historical Australian footage on the National Library, and a groovy 80’s color palette on the Old Parliament House. I even walked up to the new Parliament to see this year’s Lego-themed animations, a reference to the scale Lego model on display inside. Alongside the projections were other attractions including a live rock band, a fungi-inspired light installation, and a tap-dancing group.

​I headed back to the CBD, crossing a bridge which under cover of darkness had become an arachnid gallery. Every single stretch of railing had a gnarly spider on display, and it was a long bridge. Maybe the politicians can learn a thing or two about spinning webs.

I don’t like waking up early, but I can force myself awake for the right reason – like the launch of hot air balloons at dawn! I packed a light breakfast and walked through the still-dark park at 5:30am, full of chittering fruit bats and cute possums peering down from the trees. The launch site was the Patrick White lawns, a surprisingly small footprint for the ~40 balloons that took off each day. As I approached the lawns, the darkness was pierced by flashes of flame and whooshing roars as the pilots tested their equipment. A fleet of food trucks was ready to feed and caffeinate the groggy masses.

​Flat white in hand, I walked through the field to get a closer look at the baskets, stepping into the radius of warmth. The pilots were busy unloading their vans; a dog leapt out of a tall basket on command. Spectators trickled in, forming circles around the flat balloons. With intermittent flames in the background, it was very cultish. I walked up to the library’s terrace to get a better view of the scene.

First, the balloons were cold-inflated, reluctantly pushing themselves off the ground. Then, with the baskets lying horizontally on the ground, the flames were shot sideways into the opening, providing the hot air needed to coax the balloons upright. In the gray 6:00am light, the flames were bright enough to illuminate the balloons from the inside, and they flickered like enormous lightbulbs.

One-by-one the balloons took flight, revealing their designs. Most were classic checkered colors. A few had interesting shapes like an Air Force helmet and a cartoon head with pigtails. Others had advertisements for seemingly random things like Hendrick’s Gin, a veterinary drug called Zolvix, and Melbourne tourism. Some lifted straight up, others got a running start like planes on a runway. A few people absorbed in their photos were almost plowed over!

Once the final balloon had launched, I joined the masses walking west, following the wake of the aerial parade. I could now see the lake was full of kayakers and boats, many now paddling west too. The balloons had traveled far and were already small in the distance. Seeing the skies filled with these iconic Aussie aircraft was charming, but the energy of the launch site was the best part. I've never experienced anything like it!

​After that, I visited the Parliament House, now looking rather plain without its Lego projections. In front was a mosaic with an indigenous design, meant to put the First Nations first. The building is embedded in the hill and seems to rise organically from the earth itself, as democracy should. Past a basic security check was a beautiful lobby with green marble columns. The tour itself was short and sweet, visiting the House chamber (color coded green) and explaining some of the design features, like a white-noise fountain to mask private conversations. The guide suggested visiting the rooftop, home to an enormous Australian flag the size of a double decker bus and some excellent views. Of course, I made sure to visit the Lego model, which was accurate and full of cute details, like an observer accidentally dropping a hot dog into the proceedings below.

​It was a long walk across town, but I made it to the Kingston area to check out a few sights. One was an active glassblowing center with public viewing, but I didn’t linger as I was already overheated from the walk. Another was the Old Bus Depot market, a spacious crafts market with lots of tempting local goods. I tasted a few spirits and syrups and bought a few postcards from a local artist with quirky Canberran designs, including a group of magpies in a meeting to select their next victim. The third attraction was a Nepalese restaurant that had been recommended to me, called Lakeside Gurkhas. I ordered a sampler platter that was loaded with goodies, including curries, chutneys, veggies, and fermented soybeans. The staff was very amiable and even brought out a little dessert.

Feeling a little stuffed but carrying on, I crossed the lake, passed the carillon, and walked up the ANZAC Parade towards the War Memorial. The parade was a rich maroon color and was lined with smaller memorials for each conflict Australian soldiers were involved in. It was peaceful in this slow part of the day; a sulphur-crested cockatoo was drinking water from the Vietnam memorial fountain and flew off as I approached. I cooled down with an iced coffee at the museum café.

The War Museum was too large to absorb in the short time before closing. Some of the material was familiar – for example, the Gallipoli campaign had been featured at the Te Papa museum in New Zealand, since it was a joint ANZAC operation. In my brief stint, I learned that Australia had a front row seat to the Pacific theater of WWII, with Darwin and the northern coast suffering Japanese bombings.
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The reason I arrived later in the day was to see the Last Post ceremony, a late afternoon event that honors an individual soldier by recounting their story. On that day, it was Lance Corporal William James Thomas Kelly, who had been deployed to Britain during WWI, fought on the Western Front on multiple tours and persisted through multiple injuries, only to die in the post-war influenza epidemic. People who I assume were living relatives of the soldier placed wreaths by his photo, while melancholy bagpipe music reverberated throughout the stone courtyard. The ceremony was attended by many fellow tourists, but they were all respectful, soaking in the solemnity. It was really quite moving.

​In the evening, I headed to Commonwealth Park with a picnic dinner for a free outdoor concert. Though smaller than the Sydney Myer Bowl in Melbourne, this Canberran equivalent was worthy in its own right, with well-organized sections for blanketers vs. camping chairs and a vanguard of food trucks. It also bordered a fruit bat colony, which gradually launched at dusk, just like the balloons in the morning.

​The musical performer was a unique, never-seen-before collaboration between the Canberra Symphony Orchestra and the Hoodoo Gurus, a well-regarded Australian rock band. I chatted with my picnic neighbors, an older Canberran couple, who explained the Hoodoo Gurus had been popular on the US college circuit in the 80s. The songs, all Hoodoo Gurus hits, had been arranged specifically for this concert by a young local composer. The lead singer of the Hoodoo Gurus, Dave Faulkner, had a great stage presence, as did the symphony conductor, Vanessa Scammel. I felt that the rock instruments drowned out the traditional ones, but it wasn’t a big deal as the rock songs were all excellent.

​On the way back into the CBD, I stopped by a light installation at Civic Square, featuring ancient animals like a saber-tooth tiger. The creatures were made of geometric wire frames and backlit fabric, giving them a wonderful aesthetic.

​Another morning, another early start for the balloons! This time I headed to opposite side of the lake to get a different perspective. The sunrise was gorgeous, creating silhouettes of the balloons and kayakers. The balloons took a slightly different path, narrowly clearing the bridge and deliberately flying low across the surface of the lake. A few balloons even let the kayakers grab on, and pulled them across the lake!

I was conveniently located at the National Museum, with one small problem… it was still 7:30 in the morning. I killed some time by walking around the Australia National University (ANU) campus, looking for a bathroom but it was completely deserted. Thankfully the museum opened at 9:00 even though it was Canberra Day, a public holiday.
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The National Museum had an excellent flagship exhibit on Australia’s natural history. The entryway highlighted the bunya trees of Queensland, which have enormous pinecones. During the pinecone season, indigenous groups traveled long distances for an annual gathering to collect this important food source. I actually found a bunya pinecone near the balloon launch site later in my visit. Good thing it didn't land on a balloon, or it could have punctured one...

​The museum also highlighted Australia’s natural disasters, including cyclones and bushfires, and had an excellent animated map explaining the continent-level weather patterns. Now I know why Melbourne can have four seasons in one day! There were also some regional spotlights, on traditional controlled burning practices, migrating moths, and the “Snowy” hydroelectric scheme.

Another wing of the NMA was about Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander history and culture. The signs didn’t beat around the bush when it came to atrocities committed by Europeans. For example, the Coniston Massacre of 1928, where the murder of one adulterous white man escalated to the murder of 60 innocent indigenous people. But there were also messages of hope, like an explanation of the 1992 Mabo decision where Murray Islanders regained their ancestral land rights in a Supreme Court ruling.

The most unique item in the NMA was the preserved remains of a thylacine, aka the Tasmanian tiger, from the 1920s. I already had a mild fascination with this extinct animal from my visit to Tasmania. It’s a bit of a "ghost" species, still haunting the public psyche, printed on every Tasmanian license plate, but not something you’ll find out in nature – or even a zoo. The last thylacine in captivity died in 1936. The one in the glass case looked sad, almost anguished, seemingly aware of its species' fate. Maybe it will be cloned someday. Alongside the display was some other historical content including a cute photo of a mother thylacine with three joeys and a desperate campaign flyer from efforts to locate any surviving populations in the wild. Poor thylacines. Gone, but not forgotten.

Another pleasant stroll around the lake, a sandwich for lunch, and I was right back into museum mode. The National Portrait Gallery had the whole pantheon of Australian celebrities on display but didn’t resonate with me. My main takeaway was discovering that the classical guitarist John Williams is from Melbourne, as he had a portrait on display. The café at the NPG was nice though.

When I checked my bag at reception of the Old Parliament House, I asked if there were any exhibits I should prioritize. The reply was ambiguous but prescient: just explore, this place is full of surprises. Indeed it was! The first room was all about beehives, which one senator had set up on the grounds as a pet project. The second room was full of working typewriters, delightfully tangible. I had never played with a typewriter apart from a theater prop. Signs encouraged visitors to write letters and drop them in a free mailbox. Here’s hoping that this offer included international postage, as I may have sent a letter or two to the USA! I had a blast fumbling my way through: setting margins, figuring out the carriage return, hammering that ink ribbon, and dealing with jams. The rest of the building also leaned into nostalgia. The explorable labyrinth of rooms and hallways was filled with 80’s office equipment and government flyers.
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The museum was formally called the Museum of Australian Democracy (MOAD) and had rooms full of info about Australia’s voting laws and prime ministers. It made me realize that Australia has always been ahead of the curve with election rules – they pioneered the secret ballot (the “Australian ballot”), were among the first countries with women’s suffrage, allowed voting by mail in 1919, implemented compulsory voting, and even has ranked-choice voting for Parliamentary candidates. Setting a good example for the rest of the world.

​After a brief rest at the hostel, I embarked on the hike up Mt. Ainslie to catch the sunset over Canberra. The views of the city were spectacular. While waiting, I admired some beautiful crimson rosella parrots and a kangaroo joey hopping up a staircase. I stayed to see the changing colors of sunset, then headed back downhill before it got completely dark. After a 14-mile day, I indulged in a slice of cheesecake as a reward.

The third early morning was a bit of a dud. The balloon launch was called off for an unspecified weather reason, but I only found out when I was already in position at the lake. I stayed to watch the sunrise, wishing I had brought another layer as I munched on a piece of banana bread and sipped a canned Boss coffee. A large katydid was also watching the sunrise from the dock railing, until it was eaten by a magpie. I returned to the hostel, ready to check out and move on with the day.
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Upon leaving the hostel, I was picked up by Ian, a Canberra local and a friend of Gail’s who agreed to show me around. We hopped in his car and headed to the National Arboretum. From a viewpoint at the top of the arboretum, we could see the syringe-like spire of Telstra Tower, Lake Burley Griffin, burn scars from previous bushfires, and the arboretum’s orderly rows of young trees. It was incredibly nice of him to take a chance on a total stranger. With a relaxed attitude, deep local knowledge, and a twinkle in his eye, he played the role of tour guide incredibly well. I enjoyed picking his brain about all things Canberran and Australian.

Next we popped over to the Botanical Gardens and had a coffee on a sunny patio, watching the sun-bathing water dragons on the other side of the lawn. We took a stroll through the garden paths, which featured native Australian plants. Unfortunately, the misty fern pathway was closed due to bunya pinecone season – falling pinecones are no joke! In the bookstore, Ian pointed out a book on bees authored by one of his neighbors. A temporary art exhibit paid homage to the diversity of Australia’s bee species.
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Ian suggested grabbing lunch at his neighborhood Vietnamese restaurant. He knew the owner well and was enthusiastic about supporting this local gem. Our bahn mi sandwiches were lovingly assembled, and the paper bags were twisted up with expert technique. We took our food to the nearby park and found a shady spot by the side of the lake. Ian had a set of telescoping expandable stools, an ingenious design, which elevated our lunch quite literally.

Spending a few hours with Ian was delightful, and he was also kind enough to drive me to the outer suburbs and drop me off with my Servas hosts, Elizabeth and Gerin.
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I stayed with Elizabeth and Gerin for just two nights, but I got to know them quickly. Elizabeth’s background was in workplace counseling, and she always greeted me with a big smile and upbeat sense of humor. She was passionate about traveling, had excellent questions to spark a conversation, and had that aggressive Aussie sense of hospitality, declining my offers to pitch in around meals. Gerin was a structural engineer, with sun-hardened arms, a skinny yet strong build, and bright eyes. He spoke softly and slowly, contrasting with his fast-paced and vivacious lifestyle, which included juggling a portfolio of consulting projects, building the house, and playing field hockey. The two of them loved living in Canberra, citing an abundance of international events and academic lectures that were often smaller and more intimate.

​The house itself was extremely unique and a memorable part of the stay. Their original home burned down in the 2003 bushfires, a fire that wiped out most houses on their circular block. Being a structural engineer, Gerin had spared no detail on the design and materials for the rebuild. Inspired by interlocking gears, the façade was comprised of semicircular windows made with special Chinese glass to maximize natural light while insulating from heat. The interior was a series of half-stories; from each floor, you could see into the half-stories above and below. It was at that intermediate stage of construction, where the bathroom light was a temporary floor lamp, and parts of the walls were exposed, and full of surprises, like motorized pantry shelves that rose out of the kitchen counter. A cute and well-behaved Kelpie, their son’s dog, was a fellow guest and was often in the background, pattering across the concrete floors. It reminded me of a Lemony Snicket house, a larger-than-life physical space that reflects the owners’ auras.

The first afternoon, I tagged along with Gerin on some shopping errands. We picked up adhesives in the industrial suburb of Fyshwick, and briefly crossed the border into New South Wales so he could check in with a consulting client. He drove a 2007 Prius, the same that I drive, except with the steering while on the other side. I was sad to learn that its catalytic converter was stolen while in Townsville. The replacement converter wasn’t an exact match, and the dashboard’s “red triangle of death” was illuminated for most of the ride, disabling the AC. Gerin shrugged it off and opened the windows.
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The errands morphed into a spontaneous driving tour. We visited the defense precinct, home to Australia’s one and only military academy. A variety of uniforms for the army, navy, and air force were on display as we drove around the campus. Gerin had been the engineer and/or designer for several buildings here. Two unique challenges he faced were designing hat racks to accommodate the different uniforms and making the hallways wide enough for passing salutes. We drove past the Australian-American Memorial, a pillar with an eagle on top, which reminded me of Saruman’s tower from Lord of the Rings. Earlier in the day, Ian explained its local nickname: Bugs Bunny.  I was amazed when Gerin told me he had climbed to the top via an internal ladder for a recurring inspection! Later on, we drove through the embassy neighborhood, with lots of international architecture on display. The US embassy, a neat brick building, sat on an enormous and fenced plot of land.

In the late afternoon, I hiked into the hills behind the house to enjoy the sunset. The elaborate swirls and banks of clouds were beautiful. The air was filled with the robotic warbles of the magpies, the squawking of the crimson rosellas, and the guttural chirps and “ooo-EEEEs” of the currawongs.

Over a seafood pasta dinner, we continued chatting and I learned that Gerin had some Chinese ancestry. His grandfather came to Australia during the gold rush era and ran a general store. While it was unusual to grow up in a mixed-race family at that time, Gerin said that having many siblings and being a tough kid helped. He was born and raised in Canberra, leaving only to study civil engineering, which struck me as unique. Most people seemed to relocate to Canberra for work, bouncing back and forth with another area over the course of their careers.

Also staying at the house, but not Servas guests, were an Australian/American couple named Min and Marie. They both worked in NGO relief organizations and met in Bangladesh. Min was friends with the hosts’ son and looking for work in Canberra. An electrical engineer by training, Min was a gregarious and generous fellow. He let me borrow his road bike, effortlessly replacing the tires before my eyes, and made delicious espresso drinks in the mornings. I briefly met his wife Marie, who was 9 months pregnant, and very nice too. They also had an infant son who was a bundle of energy, and sampled the grapes from my plate, calling them “cherries.”
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To get a taste of the ACT’s wilderness, I embarked on a point-to-point hike along the Murrumbidgee River. Gerin dropped me off at the Kambah Rock Pools, perfect for swimming on a different day. I hiked to Red Rocks Gorge, pausing at the viewing platform to admire the alternating patches of still water and turbulent water flowing between the cliffs. There were a few bikers, and a cheerful group of older men who looked like a bushwalking club, but it was otherwise uncrowded. I spotted a couple of kangaroos in the shade, nibbling on plants. Our timing for the pickup was impeccable – Gerin arrived at the Pine Island parking lot at the exact moment I did.

​Back at the house, I had lunch with Gerin and made plans for a bike ride around Lake Burley Griffin. At the same time, Min was preparing the car to take Marie to the hospital, as the baby was coming. But the preparations weren’t quick enough – Marie went into labor in their room downstairs! Elizabeth and Min assisted Marie, while Gerin called an ambulance, and I tried to keep the dog and toddler out of the way. The baby was delivered safely before the medical team arrived, but everyone in the house was a little shaken. The family later went to the hospital, and mom and baby were both healthy.

A few hours later, Gerin pulled over to the side of the road in a non-descript gravel clearing, and pointed to the bike path on the other side. I hadn’t thought of testing the bike before we left. As he drove off, I realized it was a sink or swim moment. It didn't start well. The gear shifting mechanism was not obvious, and a few minutes into the ride, the chain became uncoupled. I reattached the chain, covering my fingers in black grease, not feeling very confident. But after a few minutes, I figured out the shifting controls and things improved from there.

I started the loop in a secluded foresty segment with little traffic. As I rushed past fields of resting galahs, strutting pukekos, and wary kangaroos, I was reminded of the joy of biking. Perhaps my last bike ride, the Croatian island where I stepped on a shell, had left the wrong impression. A few miles later, I was in the familiar zone of the Parliament Triangle. Paths that had seemed so tedious for walking were now made tricky by those same pedestrians.

When Ian dropped me off, I accidentally left my water bottle in his car. Since my bike route went near his place in Kingston, I arranged to meet him and pick it up. I was expecting a quick exchange, but he saw how disheveled I looked – sweaty, greasy, and dusty – and invited me for a drink. We had a bonus chat over a bonus pint (a local beer called Ale Mary) at a shady outdoor table of an English-sounding pub.
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Continuing the bike ride, I passed through the Jerrabombera Wetlands, catching glimpses of the action on the lake, including a game that appeared to be kayak basketball. Black swans floated past, cormorants dried their open wings on the shore, and I spotted a trio of black cockatoos. After completing the 16-mile loop, I was feeling good, so I decided to ride all the way back to the house, adding another 5 miles. Canberra is considered extremely bikeable, but it wasn’t until I headed to the outer suburbs that I realized why. The connecting path was beautiful, fairly direct, and there were bike tunnels to get under the main roads. Evidently, one of the advantages of having a planned, spread-out city. I now understood Min’s excitement when describing the biking paths.

Back home, Gerin and Elizabeth treated me to pork fried rice and a rhubarb pie. I explained the concept of Pi Day, which isn’t widely known in Australia due to the reversed date convention. Later, Gerin found an article explaining that Pi Day was popularized by the SF Exploratorium, a detail I didn’t know. When I first arrived at their house, I had brought a few gifts including chocolate corroboree frogs from the Great Ocean Road. Elizabeth went a step further and gave me a stuffed animal corroboree frog, now sitting on my desk as a cheerful reminder of their hospitality.
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It was the last morning of my trip, but I still had a few hours to explore. Gerin dropped me at the Canberra Museum, which explained the backstory on the site selection and Burley Griffin plan. I also visited the National Library for an official tour. The guide was an older gentleman with a cane, who took us into the depths of the building. It was built in the 1970s and had a working set of vacuum tubes for transmitting messages. I got to insert one of the tubes, which was whisked away with surprising force. We found it again later in the tour. The other group members, two Australian women, were library enthusiasts and were having a great time. They were pleasantly surprised to see a younger tourist like me on a library tour, and said a few encouraging words.

It was time to catch my flight, and Gerin took me to the airport in the trusty Prius. He hadn’t been there in a while and was excited to see the two water vortex sculptures in front. I thanked him for all of the driving around town, as it really helped me cover a lot of ground!

​In the airport, I looked at a beautiful painted turtle shell on display and got a sushi roll. It was served as a single piece, like an open-ended burrito, and came with a fish-shaped eyedropper of soy sauce. It was a smooth journey back to Melbourne, and soon I was back on a crowded but familiar 96 tram.
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Having seen a few sides of Canberra, it has a lot to offer but isn't for everyone. Without the festivals, the tourism draws would have been mainly museums and galleries, which I personally enjoyed but could be seen as a bit repetitive, especially for Australians who already know about their own country. The hiking and biking were certainly enjoyable, with Mount Ainslie being the highlight, but die-hard nature lovers would probably gravitate elsewhere. The suburbs have a good lifestyle, so it seems like a decent place to live. City-lovers and foodies might get bored, but it’s still an international hub. It wasn’t very walkable and the public transportation wasn't very convenient, so it's more of a car and bike oriented city. I did like the way the monuments were arranged in dialogue with one another, which gave it a sense of transcendence and allegory. I found Canberrans to be friendly, welcoming, generous, knowledgeable, and humorous. Getting to know them was the highlight of my visit! And of course, the Balloon Spectacular and the Enlighten Festival were the cherry on top that brightened it all.

Content warning (animal death) for 4th image in this post.​

Two excellent day trips outside of Melbourne were my introduction to the greater region of Victoria. The first was a trip to the Great Ocean Road, an iconic Australian drive known for its coastal scenery. The second was a train journey to the historic gold rush town of Castlemaine, now an arts hub.

The Great Ocean Road trip was one of those beautiful opportunities that came up unexpectedly. A few days in advance, I got a text from JC – one of my acquaintances from the Tuesday barmeet. His mom was visiting from the Philippines, and he invited me to join their day trip, correctly guessing that I was interested in seeing the Great Ocean Road. It was super thoughtful. Every time I thanked him, he shrugged it off with a humble remark about it being more efficient to go together.
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JC had a full plan for the day, with regular stops that divided up the 6 hours of driving. On the itinerary was a good mix of famous viewpoints and lesser-known spots. We agreed on an early start, leaving Melbourne at 6 am under cover of darkness, while the possums were still out playing.

​We drove the circuit in reverse, heading west through the inland route in the morning, and returning east along the coast in the afternoon. The backcountry roads were uncrowded, though we did encounter a few trains barreling towards the rising sun.

​The first stop was a hilly viewpoint in an area called Red Rock, formed by volcanic activity.  The parking lot was empty, except for a row of dead foxes lined up on a stone wall, which was a bit shocking. The corpses seemed fresh, but there was no one around. I'm guessing they were being redeemed for a bounty, as bounty programs exist in Victoria for foxes and wild dogs. We tried not to dwell on it, and ascended a staircase to a viewing platform. ​It was a chilly morning, with clouds partially obscuring the early sun. The smooth hills were a golden hue, and there was a permanent lake in the distance.

​The next stop was at an unassuming blue church, but this was no ordinary church. No, it was a Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster! Home of the Pastafarians, a parody religion with playfully irreverent beliefs. The owner emerged holding pirate hats, a reference to the Pastafarian belief that humans are descended from pirates. A pamphlet explained, “in the beginning was the Word, and the Word was ‘Arrrgh!’ -  Piraticus 13:7.” At the same time, the owner strongly emphasized that wearing a colander on the head, sometimes associated with Pastafarianism, is not actually part of the belief system. It was a hilarious and unexpected part of the day’s adventure!

​Reaching the coast, we arrived at the Twelve Apostles, the famous sandstone stacks. While there aren’t twelve, and perhaps never were, the constant erosion of the cliffs means that the landscape is merely a snapshot in time. In 1990, two tourists were stranded on Australia’s newest island when an arch collapsed. Smaller stacks were reclaimed by the sea in 2005 and 2009. And there is potential for new Apostles to form in the future. On this particular day, it was cloudy, windy,  and a bit rainy, so no postcard views, but the Apostles were still stunning.

After this brief taste of the coast, we turned back inland and traversed dirt mountain roads towards Erskine Falls. JC had never been this way before but seemed to take the rough terrain in stride. In this remote stretch of forest, we encountered a few wallabies and wedge-tailed eagles.
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The waterfalls were pleasant, framed with mossy cliffs and old-growth ferns. JC and I hiked down to the base of the falls while Connie stayed at the upper viewing platform. Connie used her cane to retrieve a beautiful blue bird feather that I spotted in the brush but had been out of reach, which was a sweet gesture. We stopped to eat our lunch in a dedicated picnic area, livening up the meal by trading bits of the prepared food we each brought.

​The road descended from the mountains and into the town of Lorne, where we reunited with the main Great Ocean Road. The clouds had started to disperse, and it was a delightful time to be driving along the ocean. We stopped at the Memorial Arch, where a plaque explained that the original road had been constructed by WWI veterans as part of a public works initiative. The beach was gorgeous, with so many shades of blue spread across the shallows, depths, and skies.

​JC had a trick up his sleeve – the car was a convertible, and he lowered the roof for the next segment of the drive! Earlier in the day, I had been concerned we wouldn’t get enough time on the coast, but my concerns floated away in the breeze.

Speaking of the breeze, at Split Point, the gusts were so powerful that my hat was whisked over the edge of the platform and into the plants below. Thankfully, there was a way to walk under the platform and retrieve it. The viewing platform was a great vantage to appreciate the sea stacks and lighthouse. It was my favorite stop of the day. Apparently, Split Point was the filming location for a supernatural kids TV show from the 90’s called Round the Twist, a bit like an Australian version of Goosebumps.

​An excellent addition to the itinerary was the Great Ocean Road Chocolaterie, with an impressive selection of chocolate products, ice cream, and café goods. I was tempted to buy a chocolate kangaroo for Easter. Instead, I devoured a generous scoop of Rocky Road, while Connie and JC had cake slices and a flavored milk drink that came with a little pitcher of syrup. Outside, there was playground for kids to run off their sugar high, and some funny dessert-inspired kangaroo statues.

The final drive back into Melbourne was uneventful. I was amazed at JC’s driving endurance, and appreciated the chance to doze a bit. We arrived at his place in the Docklands around 6 pm, a full 12-hour day. Even though we covered a lot of ground, I still viewed this journey as a first taste of the Great Ocean Road – a “rekkie” (reconnaissance) as the Aussies would say. I hope to return for more.
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A few days later, I met Reggie at the Southern Cross Station for a day trip to Castlemaine. At the station, we met up with Reggie’s friend and mentor David, who lives in Castlemaine and happened to be in Melbourne at the time. David was friendly and laid back. He also met many of the stereotypes of a disorganized but brilliant artist. He had lost his wallet earlier, and appeared with a ticket just in time to catch the train. Partway through the ride, he took a few droplets of CBD tincture from small bottle in his black leather jacket. As the rural scenery rolled by, the three of us chatted about David’s creative work, US politics, cannabis laws, and the names of the mountains. Occasionally, he would take out a notebook and jot down phrases he liked from the conversation. ​

​It was an easy 1.5-hour train ride. David headed home, while Reggie and I went for brunch at Saff’s Café. I had a nice Reuben and a flat white. Later, we checked out a cute bookstore and an op shop with lots of vintage goods. Castlemaine had that quintessential historic small-town charm, with antiquated but tasteful buildings from its glory days, independent shops, a cinema, and a quiet pulse of traffic. The real estate listings in the window were surprisingly expensive; apparently Castlemaine was a popular place for Melburnians to move during the COVID lockdown era.

In the afternoon, we met up with Reggie’s friend Beverley, a delightful lady who greeted me with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Bev was recovering from a shoulder injury but had just started driving again. We hopped in her car and headed towards her place in the neighboring town of Chewton, population 763. Along the way, we stopped at the Monster Meeting site, where in 1851 the gold miners organized to protest the government’s plan to increase mining license fees.

We spent a few hours chatting in Bev’s comfortable house. It was filled with international art, skylights, ceiling fans, and gentle music: an improvised jazz album by The Necks. Her hospitality was phenomenal, serving us delicious homemade gazpacho and the best chai tea I’ve ever had. I learned that Bev runs small group tours in India and had a wonderful story about the tiny shop where she purchased the tea. 

​She was also kind enough to bring out some of her own artwork, surreal images including a house on wheels on the edge of the water, inspired by a dream. The kinds of images people might nowadays generate using AI, but created long before AI. We took turns suggesting various interpretations of each.

​Later, Bev took us for a spontaneous historical tour of the area. We stopped at Specimen Gully, where gold was first discovered in Victoria in 1851. Gold had been discovered in New South Wales earlier in the year, and in response, the Victorian government offered a reward for finding a gold field near Melbourne. Sure enough, it was found a few months later. Also at the historic site was a cottage made of high-quality slate, built in the 1870s. While we were inspecting the cottage, a second car arrived, a grandpa taking his grandkids for an outing. Bev gave them directions, learned all their names, asked one of the kids about her arm cast (she had fallen off a horse), and encouraged them to take a picture of the info sign on their way out. It was a wholesome interaction: small-town camaraderie.

​Continuing the drive through sparsely populated dirt roads, we stopped at an unmarked site Bev knew of, the Ochre Pits, where First Nations people sourced ochre for their painting. The colorful landscape was rugged and otherworldly, with exposed tree roots wrapping around the eroded rock faces. Within the crevices, I could see swirls of dark red among the oranges and yellows, a geologic prosciutto. As Bev put it, welcome to “Planet Australia.”

Reggie and I bid farewell to Bev, bought sandwiches at a surprisingly large IGA grocery store, and rushed to catch the next train back to Melbourne. Always keen for wildlife, I spotted a few kangaroos resting in the shade of the otherwise sparse bushland. Soon we were back at Southern Cross.

Since it was a Tuesday night, Reggie and I stopped by the usual barmeet, conveniently a few blocks from the station. My throat was dry and dusty from the day in Castlemaine, and even a refreshing pint of Tiger beer wasn’t enough remedy. I headed back to my apartment to properly hydrate and recover.
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I’m so grateful to JC, Reggie, and Beverley for welcoming me into their adventures, and helping me experience rural Victoria. Though only a day’s journey from Melbourne, the Great Ocean Road and Castlemaine were a world away, and a welcome change of scenery.

Every run at the Carlton Gardens was just a bit different. Some days a tai chi group with boombox music practiced their art under the slanted roof of the Melbourne Museum. Other times a large tour group was spilling out of the bus with cameras at the ready, or a bride and groom were posing for photos by the fountain. Enormous posters for Dune Part 2 watched over the constant stream of bikes with food delivery boxes. The scaffold on the side of the Royal Exhibition Building was a reminder of its slow decay and lack of funding, a popular subject in the local newspaper. Overnight, rows of exhibition tents started popping up on the front lawns, presumably for the upcoming flower and garden show.

​The apartment kitchen was still lacking many amenities but it had two large woks, which were handy for making recipes like eggplant pork (pictured below) and turkey chili. Although the fresh produce at Coles was pitiful, I still went there for the fresh pasta, and made a spicy arrabiata with mushrooms.

One of the new residents was a chef from Italy, named Cristian, who seemed horrified by the kitchen and instantly bought his own supplies. At least the cleaning crews were visiting regularly, keeping the surfaces clean and emptying out the cabinet when a guest departed. Unfortunately, they didn't seem to restock the dishwashing supplies. We lived for several days without a sponge. I bought a sponge, but then realized there was no soap.

​​The appearance of a whitetail spider on my towel, which took several attempts to kill, was a jarring reminder that I was indeed still in Australia.

​I returned to the Sidney Myer Bowl on another hot Wednesday evening for more of the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra. At the start of the show, they accompanied the Acknowledgement of Traditional Owners with a short piece of music, which was very tastefully done. The main program included Rossini, Tchaikovsky, and Beethoven, with Beethoven’s First Symphony being the highlight.

​While I snacked on my picnic staples of Yumi’s hummus and falafel, the blanket next to me gradually annexed more and more territory. People continued arriving during the program. The latecomers ignored the marked aisles and sat in the pathways, which was annoying. That aside, it was still a pleasant evening of classical music. As it became dark, screeching cockatoos settled into the treetops and confused fruit bats skirted around the bowl’s multicolored lights.

​Australian Survivor: Titans vs. Rebels continued to be an entertaining season, with countless failed revenge plots that left bitter enemies stuck together for episode after episode. Lamingtons were the perfect accompaniment to the intrigue.

At the next barmeet, I had a refreshing pint of Tiger beer, caught up with friends from the convention, and met an energetic medical student who had just moved to Melbourne. I tried another lemon-lime-with-bitters, but the soda tap was acting up, so the drinks weren't sweet enough. Everyone was a little bitter.

One Thursday night, I attended an improv-themed event at a hotel/pub in Collingwood, unsure what to expect. The event was advertised on the Meetup app and had attracted a modest assortment of curious folks like me. I talked to some of the other attendees, including a Melburnian who was currently taking the sponsor’s improv classes. Another was a fellow named Ahnaf, who had moved from Adelaide and worked in medical device cybersecurity for a Bay Area company; we quickly bonded.

​The warmup improv  "jam" was open to everyone. I hopped up on the small stage and fumbled through a scene. It was as difficult as I had remembered. Afterwards was the actual show, where the main cast performed scenes inspired by audience suggestions, including “Mars” and “Civil War.” The first troupe was pretty good, but the second one struggled to create interesting situations. I left before the third troupe, and wasn't planning on attending again. But if I made one friend along the way, it was still a good evening. On the walk back, the streets were alive with live music from the bars and pubs of Fitzroy.
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Friday, I hung out with Reggie, who had just quit their admin job and was about to start an MFA program at the Royal Melbourne Institute of Technology (RMIT). We caught up over a coffee on Lygon Street, and they offered to give me a tour of the main RMIT campus. Reggie had been a student at RMIT for a good while before the MFA and had even been an official tour guide!

​Even though RMIT was tucked into the dense CBD area, the hive-like complex of lounges, libraries, and stores was spacious and inviting. There were plenty of study spaces and meeting rooms, a career center, and even an eSports gaming room. At the bookstore, I learned the RMIT mascot was a redback spider. We found the school’s formula car, which had nice carbon fiber work.

Reggie also showed me the queer lounge, a space they had fought to secure, and their pride and joy on campus. The lounge was full of whimsical and practical things, from board games to pronoun buttons. Amidst the lighthearted décor, a poster honoring a queer student who took their own life was a poignant reminder.

​For dinner we went to a Malaysian restaurant called PappaRich, located in a hidden pedestrian mall. I’d walked by dozens of times without realizing how many shops were inside. I had an amazing roti with sambal for dipping and curry chicken, plus a rose milkshake with jelly cubes. A tasty treat!

​A free Saturday was the perfect chance for my second Parkrun. I wanted to try the course at Yarra Bend park, near the fruit bat colony. I texted Ben, the Kiwi that I met at the first Parkrun, and convinced him to join.

​After the run, Ben and I had a coffee at the Studley Boathouse overlooking a dock on the river. It was a lovely spot for a light conversation. I learned he worked as a coffee equipment repairman and had a long-distance girlfriend back home in New Zealand. He had several tattoos, which I was surprised to learn that he had inked himself – an impressive but harrowing prospect.

​In the afternoon, I headed to the Queen Victoria Market for a Turkish festival celebrating the country’s 100th anniversary. A musical performer used a keyboard to mimic traditional instruments, while singing beautiful melodies and trills in the Islamic style. People in colorful outfits danced in front of the stage, and audience members who knew the lyrics sang along too. The festival had a few tents with arts and crafts, but the food was the focus. I indulged in a water borek, with layers of filo dough that reminded me of pasta, and a bag of Turkish delight.

Back at the apartment, a new recurring character was a Canadian physiotherapy student named Jean Luc, or JL for short. As an avid traveler, he arranged one of his four placements/rotations in Melbourne. A gregarious and ambitious fellow, JL was determined to see as much of Australia as he could in a short time. He also seemed to have bad luck, whether getting caught by the tram ticket inspector or locked out of his room. (Alexi managed to squeeze through JL’s window to open the door, saving him from the lost key fee.)
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On this Monday morning, JL had just gotten back from a weekend trip to the Gold Coast, which had been thrown off by a flight cancellation. He was a bit disheveled and called in sick to recover. Nevertheless, when I mentioned I was going on a free tour of the State Library, his travel instinct kicked in, and he decided to join.

The State Library of Victoria is the 3rd oldest public library in the world, founded by Sir Redmond Barry in 1853. The tour was led by a passionate and eloquent lady who had tons of knowledge about the library’s history. I found her commentary fascinating, but I’m guessing most of the group found it excessive – she probably spent 5 minutes explaining the historical context of Australia’s involvement with the Turkey campaign in WWI to preface a mural in the corner of the atrium.
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One of the oldest hallways, Queen’s Hall, was inspired by the Long Room at Trinity College in Dublin. Every book that’s published in Victoria must have a copy in the library, and Queen’s Hall contained a subset. However, the books in this collection can’t be checked out, so many of these copies have never been read!

​The most spectacular room in the library was the octagonal La Trobe Reading Room, with radial desks emanating from a central panopticon. With the high dome ceiling and natural light, it was awe-inspiring. It was also a comfortable and practical space. The desks could hold up books (or iPads) at a good angle for reading, and the acoustics were relatively muffled for such a large space. I definitely plan to go back to explore it more.

The tour also covered some of the adjacent rooms, which used to be Melbourne’s art gallery and natural history museum. There were amazing records of immigration arrivals and commercial shipments throughout Australia's history. On display was also the suit of armor worn by Ned Kelly, the notorious bushranger (highway bandit), complete with bullet indentations from shootouts.
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After the tour, JL suggested getting pho for lunch, and we nabbed a table at a nearby restaurant. The noodles and broth were excellent, and a strong Vietnamese iced coffee always hits the spot.

And to finish this slice of life, here's a photo from my neighborhood, taken just a few blocks from my apartment on a pretty day.

Meetup groups are a great resource for finding communities in a new place, and I made a number of friends through an unusual segment of the population – the furry fandom.
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Given the negative stereotypes about furries in the media, I initially wasn’t sure it was a good idea to join a meetup. But the local group, the "MelbFurs," appeared to be a social bunch with regular barmeets and events. I took a peek at the group dynamics on Telegram, the messaging app, and it seemed like fun.
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The barmeets happened every Tuesday night at a bar in the CBD, a spacious and homey venue with cozy décor and a playlist of classic rock songs. The back corner was allocated for the meetup, a symbiotic relationship between the venue and the group, a regular source of business on an otherwise-quiet night. The back corner was stuffy on this warm evening. I imagine that also contributed to the drink sales.

The first barmeet that I joined was a mixed experience. There were several friendly and fantastic people that I instantly connected with. There were also some antisocial folks that were hard to talk to. But the good ones who welcomed me into the group happened to set into motion the events of the next few weeks, including getting me a ticket to an event called the Melbourne Fur Con (MFC).
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First, a general description of the furry fandom. Only a small portion (~20%) have a fursuit, the mascot-like costumes that are the most visible segment of the fandom. A much more common way to participate is through the creation (and appreciation of) digital artwork. It’s also common for furries to create an original character called a “fursona” that serves as an online avatar. For simplicity, and perhaps anonymity, most people at the barmeet introduced themselves by their character’s name. Many people had cartoon stickers of their characters they would hand out as a token of friendship, a small tradition that I really appreciated. I accumulated a small collection!

By coincidence, one of the first people I met, Reggie, became my closest friend in the group. Reggie was well-spoken, down to earth, extremely knowledgeable about Melbourne and Australia, a scout leader, a photographer, and a community-oriented person with lots of connections. Their fursona was a peacock, inspired by one of those “what animal are you” personality tests. They also happened to be a board member of the Melbourne Fur Con (MFC). The event tickets had officially sold out months ago, but a spot had recently opened up. When Reggie heard I was visiting from abroad and had never attended a con, they pulled some strings to redirect the spot my way. It was a kind gesture, and yet another example of Melburnians making an effort to positively represent their city.

I also chatted with other folks. March and Walter were easygoing and friendly; XXS offered me a welcome drink, but otherwise didn’t seem very welcoming; Hexa was commissioning a fursuit from a well-known Australian maker; Orithan was on the autism spectrum and struggled in conversation. The evening was a marked illustration of the overlap between the furry fandom and the queer community, neurodivergent community, and video gamers. The average person the room was in their late 20s or early 30s, a software engineer, and gay. In some ways it reminded me of the theater community, in terms of the creativity and diversity, but with more STEM and less social skills. As a minor point, I was slightly disappointed that more people didn’t have Australian animals as their fursona species.
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Over the weekend, I convinced Reggie to hang out with me at the St. Kilda festival. We walked along the coast and chatted while the Melbourne skyline reflected the setting sun. I learned that Reggie had overcome many challenges in their life, which they openly spoke about with astonishing transparency. From childhood bullying for being Asian-American, being homeless as a young person, navigating life with an invisible disability, and grappling with their identity as a non-binary person, there were so many complicated layers to their story that you would never guess based on their low-key and friendly demeanor. Of course, there were lighthearted topics too, like an augmented reality game called Ingress and where to find cheap food in Melbourne (hint: Domino’s). I appreciated the chance to have a meaningful conversation on so many topics.

The second barmeet was a few days before the convention, so I went in hopes of meeting more people that I might encounter at the event. I had better luck with finding engaging people this time, including a personable programmer named Bramble and the barmeet’s de facto leader, Saba. I heard about the Australian tax loophole of using company cars as personal perks and learned a new drink order – “lemon lime with bitters,” a non-alcoholic soda with aromatic bitters. Volpes, the one who explained the drink, seemed a little dejected so I ordered us a round, and he seemed to liven up a bit.
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In preparation for the MFC event, I thought it would be fun to create a fursona of my own. For the species, a gray fox was the obvious choice: the personal connection from seeing them frolicking in the backyard, and the associated traits of cleverness and playfulness. The name was harder to pick. I chose Silvius, meaning “of the forest” in Latin: an expression of my connection to nature and the outdoors, and coincidentally a Shakespeare character that I’ve portrayed. I made a digital drawing of Silvius using Paint.NET, a free program I’ve been using for years, and Reggie printed a copy for my con badge.

​The Melbourne Fur Con was hosted at the Novotel Hotel in the suburb of Preston, easily accessible on the 86 tram. It was organized as a family-friendly con, meaning that language was kept in check, alcohol was restricted to private room parties, and the dealer’s den (where artists sell their original work) was kept free from explicit content. ​There were around 500 attendees from all over Australia, and about half with a fursuit. The year’s theme, Cyberchase, was reflected in the goodie bag contents including custom stickers, a water bottle, and a t-shirt.

​Friday included an opening ceremony and the first topic-centered panels, like the hilariously named “Help, My Child is a Furry?” geared towards parents. There were indeed some parents attending the con with their young children, which was super wholesome to see. Another panel offered advice for first-time attendees, like the 6-2-1 rule: at least 6 hours of sleep, 2 proper meals, and 1 shower per day.

It was also the first opportunity to browse through the dealer’s den. Surgical masks were required, and fursuits were banned, as it was in closer quarters. There were around 40 tables where independent artists were selling custom prints, badges, pins, fursuit accessories, and even taking commissions for custom drawings to be completed within the weekend. For many, it was the highlight of the con. I picked up a few stickers, enamel pins of Australian animals, a fox beanie, and a print from an artist called Silvixen.

​I had a fun time hanging out in the lobby, striking up small conversations with other attendees, and watching fursuiters meander through the hotel. Quite the contrast between their silly, cartoonish appearance and the polished, professional atmosphere of the hotel! Many unsuspecting businesspeople and airline crews found themselves side-by-side with enormous wolves and dragons in the elevator. Hanging out in the breezeway, I met a duo from Sydney, Flippsy and Justin, who had nice suit designs and were also really nice people.

​For dinner, I went out with Reggie and his volunteer friend Daniel for noodle soup and dumplings at a nearby spot called Tina's. The food was excellent, though the soup was hot and we were impatiently hungry.

​Friday night also included a dance, with a mix of DJ sets and a live performance from the metal guitarist When Snakes Sing. I talked with Snakes later in the con and it sounded like his performance at MFC was a breakthrough moment. A few years back, he “came out” as a furry and started tailoring his original songs towards a furry audience. A talented guitarist and singer, he’s now gotten his foot into the convention circuit in Australia, which includes other annual furry events in Sydney, Gold Coast, and Perth. Back to the dance floor, it was surreal to be surrounded with dancing fursuiters, with paws in the air and tails shaking. Given how overheated they were probably getting, it was also an impressive feat of endurance.

​Saturday’s highlight was the fursuit parade. Everyone gathered in a hotel courtyard, and then marched to a nearby park for a group photo. To stay hydrated, the fursuiters drank water bottles through their foam heads, giving the hilarious appearance of eating them. Cooling vests and portable fans were also a common sight. One of the convention norms was never taking pictures of suiters who had to remove their heads to stay cool. There was even a dedicated space for this, called the “headless lounge.”

​While in the park, I met a cute Dutch Angel Dragon, a fictional species inspired by horses. The guy inside was suiting for the first time as "Patch" and loving it. One of my other favorite character designs from the event was Rio, another Dutch Angel Dragon. Rio actually hosted a workshop explaining some of the mythology around the species, with art supplies for people to draw their own designs.

​After the park outing, there was a fashion-show style catwalk event. Each suiter struck a few poses while the photographers clicked away. Someone in a Shrek outfit made an appearance and did a hilarious bodybuilder routine.

​Next up was the Fursuit Games, including a beanbag toss, red light green light, and musical statues (i.e. players have to stop dancing when the music stops). I thought the last game was a clever choice, as it’s much easier for the suiters to hear in costume – whereas vision is really limited.

​The Saturday night schedule was intentionally open, so that people could congregate in smaller groups. For example, there was a meetup for “grey muzzles” (the tongue-in-cheek term for older furries) at the hotel bar. I ended up linking up with Bramble, who I met a few days earlier at the barmeet, and who had been around the con in a realistic red panda fursuit. I joined him for dinner, along with his orbit of out-of-town guests, Neon and Taco.

Neon’s fursona was a protogen, a fictional cyborg species with an LED emoting helmet. He worked on a berry farm in a remote part of Queensland, south of Brisbane. Taco’s fursona was a Pegasus pony, of the My Little Pony variety. He was from a smaller town in Victoria and worked at a car dealership. Both were really solid guys, and it was honestly a huge relief to have a social group within the larger event.
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Bramble had a specific ramen place in mind and drove us there in his car. It was actually quite far away, in Carnegie, which gave plenty of time for lively conversation, like debating the differences between bogans and eshays (two Aussie stereotypes, a bit like rednecks). There was a long wait at the restaurant, so we had a drink in the bar next door. Bramble invited two other friends along, who were also furries but with more emphasis on tabletop games like Dungeons and Dragons. The ramen itself was fast, cheap, and really flavorful. But the good company is what I’ll remember most.

​We made our way back to the hotel, and hung out in Bramble’s room. He offered to let me try on the red panda suit. In the heavily air-conditioned room, the thick suit was actually comfortable. Apart from the lack of visibility, which was pitiful. The guys draped a lanyard over my head and I could barely tell! One cool feature (literally) was a small electric fan built into the mask, pointed directly at the wearer’s face. The jaw also opened slightly when I opened mine. Aesthetically, the realistic style fursuits aren’t my favorite (I prefer the “toony” style) but it was still a memorable experience.

​Sunday was a more laid-back day. I was pretty drained from all the socialization but still went to a few panels, the most interesting a tutorial on creating a “duct tape dummy.” In order to commission a fursuit, the future owner has to create a fabric shell of their entire body shape and send it to the maker. This is accomplished by putting on a disposable painter’s suit, having your friends smother it in duct tape, and then carefully cutting it off like a cocoon. The panelists demonstrated this onstage over the course of an hour, some wearing fursuit heads while applying tape. After the panel, I hung out at the hotel bar with Bramble et al.

​The last event was a charity auction. Artists and participants donated merchandise to the staff, and each item was sold in the classic auction style (the auctioneer did a brilliant job!) The charity of choice was a wildlife sanctuary in Victoria called Odonata Mt Rothwell, home to endangered species of wallabies and quolls. In total, $6,700 was raised – not bad for a relatively small con, with wallets already hurting from 3 days of the dealers’ den.

Even if Aussie animals weren’t a common choice for fursonas, there were still a few really good ones, including a Tasmanian devil, a thylacine, and an echidna. Though not wearing it at the time, the echnidna fursuiter told me he had a detachable long tongue like a real echidna!

Attending MFC was a unique experience! There were so many delightful character designs to marvel at, and silly interactions to laugh along with. Hanging out with Taco, Neon, and Bramble was an awesome part of the experience, as the convention was large enough (and long enough) to be a tad overwhelming.

​Even though attending a furry convention was a bit bizarre and a little outside my comfort zone, bonding with Aussies over a niche interest was exactly the kind of travel experience I was hoping for.
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Melbourne truly has every kind of event imaginable!