​It was hard to forget the first glimpse of Kata Tjuta from the airplane window. After all, the 3-hour northwest flight across the red deserts and white salt lakes had been leading up to this moment. The rounded rocks appeared like a mirage, an enormous city in the haze, as surreal as a Salvador Dali painting, the rock’s intricate texture at odds with the unassuming plains. Soon, the foot-shaped Uluru was visible too, its ridges like rounded toes. The singularity of Uluru contrasted with the “many heads” of Kata Tjuta (its meaning in the Anangu language). Both invited more exploration.

I flew directly from Melbourne to the Ayer’s Rock Airport, located in the remote resort town of Yulara. While many people fly into Alice Springs and do the 4.5-hour drive, I decided to keep my itinerary simple. I spent 6 nights in Yulara and only visited places within day trip range.
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The Ayer’s Rock Resort was really a collection of multiple hotels of varying styles. From the higher end Sails in the Desert to the rough-n-ready Outback Lodge, it had something for everyone. The hotels were arranged in a giant ring, just out of sight of each other. At the center of the ring was a swatch of desert with a hill that had good views of Uluru. The key locations, like the town center, were all connected with footpaths and a shuttle bus. It was an oasis in the middle of nowhere. I read online that the resort is mainly supplied by convoys that make the 1700km journey from Adelaide twice a week. 

If you hadn’t already guessed, I stayed at the Outback Lodge, the budget option. I was surprised that the 12-person hostel room was mostly unoccupied. One or two nights, I was the only person there. Stepping out of the dark concrete dorm into the bright red sands was incredible. It often took a moment to process where I was, but it made me smile every time.
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The communal kitchen was in an open-air structure, with screens to keep out the critters, but not very effectively. The crested pigeons and magpie-larks could easily duck underneath the fence, and hunt for scraps. One time I encountered a lizard that ran away in the most comical fashion, standing upright on its hind legs as it scuttled off. Another night there was a cute little gecko climbing the screen. The hostel didn’t provide dishes and utensils, but I was able to rent a crate with all the essentials. The crate was like the prize in a Survivor reward challenge. Worth playing for? You bet.

The first night, my only task was making dinner. I had brought some packaged noodles and curry paste from Melbourne, as I wasn’t sure if the grocery store was going to be well-stocked. I still needed a few fresh veggies, so I hiked across the desert to the town center. As it turned out, the Yulara IGA had a surprisingly good selection with all your favorite comfort foods, plus some discomfort foods. The freezer had an entire compartment of frozen kangaroo tails. Eek! I hiked back to the Outback Lodge, getting swarmed by flies. Back in the safety of the kitchen, I cooked an enormous quantity of panang curry with hokkien noodles in an electric roasting pan, as the stove wasn’t working.

​The first phase of my trip revolved around my 3-Day Pass for the Uluru Hop On/Off Bus. There were five daily buses that went to Uluru and back, and two options for seeing Kata Tjuta. At the company’s recommendation, I had pre-booked everything. They had two or three different bus sizes and appeared to be matching the capacity to the demand. To get the most out of my ticket, I did two outings a day.

The Uluru trip required a significant number of 4:00 or 5:00am wakeups, whether for catching a flight, a sunrise, or a tour bus. The first morning, I had signed up for a bus to Kata Tjuta for sunrise viewing and a 3-hour hike at the Valley of the Winds.

When the bus arrived, a gruff man with messy gray hair barked something unintelligible, which in hindsight was probably my last name, and probably a question. After sorting it out, I boarded the bus, and watched as he dealt with other passengers in a blunt, borderline rude manner. Then we were off, zooming along paved roads in total darkness.

His name, or nickname, was Snakebite. After the morning gruffness had worn off, and over the course of two drives to Kata Tjuta, I heard his fascinating story. He was working in Queensland and was tasked with removing an abandoned car. It had been occupied by mice. It also had an issue with the brakes. As he sat in the driver’s seat, a large brown snake under the passenger seat woke up from a food coma and bit him on the hand. He had military training and knew how to stay calm, so the ambulance techs thought his vitals looked fine at first. Then he quickly declined. Antivenom was administered at the local hospital, but the treatments weren’t as sophisticated at the time and didn’t work right away. He was airlifted to Brisbane and spent 4 days in a coma while the doctors debated the options. Given his low chances of survival, they took a risk and administered a second, multivalent antivenom. It worked, and Snakebite lived to tell the tale. However, the fangs had left behind harmful bacteria, and the next time he got a routine flu, his immune system had a bad reaction at the bite location. After someone realized the severity of the reaction, he was rushed to surgery and had more tissue removed.

​Snakebite was an excellent storyteller, using an iPad as a visual aid (yes, with gory pictures of the wound healing process). He speculated that the snake had used most of its venom on the mice, and he wouldn’t have survived the full dose. But he didn’t hold a grudge against snakes. In fact, he has two pet snakes! He showed a trick video of his woma python slithering through the sand towards his bare feet, making it look like a wild animal. The second python was up for adoption when a reptile zoo closed, unable to find a forever home due to its aggressive behavior. Snakebite couldn’t bear to see it killed, brought it home, and managed to tame it through persistence and several more bites. He says they now exchange neck massages and showed a video of it giving him a kiss on the cheek.

​Back to the journey. We arrived at the sunrise viewing platform and watched as the morning colors washed over the rounded skyline of Kata Tjuta. We could also see Uluru’s silhouette against the fiery gradient. The skies in the Northern Territory are so vast and filled with color.

The tour group, slightly intimidated by Snakebite’s first impression, were all very punctual at returning the van. We were the first bus to leave the lot. At the start of the Valley of the Winds trail, most of the group zoomed on ahead, but I stayed back to put on some sunscreen, and chatted with an Irish couple doing the same. We ended up completing the hike together. They were from Dublin and most of the way through a year-long world tour. The wife was a pharmacology professor who had done research in drug delivery, and had heard of one of my professors at Brown. They had good commentary on the places they had already visited in Southeast Asia.
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Kata Tjuta is made of a conglomerate rock, looking smooth from a distance but quite rough up close. The red color is only on the surface, formed through oxidation, while the actual rock is gray. Thin black stripes also ran up and down its faces, presumably from water flows. The interaction between the rock and the light was magical. In the morning, one side of the valley was still in the shade, but the reflected light caused even the shaded rock to glow. When we completed the loop a few hours later, it wasn’t obvious we’d come full circle as the same rocks looked totally different in the full sun.

The Valley of the Winds trail lived up to its name, with a blustery start that kept the flies at bay. Then it followed a quiet gorge, with rock pools and faint streams supporting a lush ecosystem. Climbing out the gorge, we stumbled on views looking out into a vast plain, a green paradise fenced in by rounded rock towers. With a few more animals, it could have been a scene from Africa.
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Unfortunately, I’m not able to share photos because the Valley of the Winds is considered sacred by the Anangu people. Only initiated Anangu men are told the specifics of its significance. Even though I'd really like to know more, respecting indigenous culture means accepting that the piranpa (white people) will be kept in the dark on this topic.

The second outing of the day was to the Uluru Cultural Center. It explained some of the Dreamtime stories, called the tjukurpa. These stories involve ancestral beings, usually associated with an animal, that leave physical marks on the landscape, known as tjukuritja. One of the most important tjukurpa stories related to Uluru involves Kuniya, the woma python lady, who summons great magic to avenge her son and defeat Liru, the poison snake man. The phases of the battle are reflected in missing chunks of the rock surface. Another tjukurpa story involves the Mala (rufous hare wallaby) men, who are attacked by a monster during a ritual. The Cultural Center also had a fascinating movie on traditional bush foods. It explained the locals’ deep knowledge of how to harvest plants, forage for witchetty grubs and honey ants, and roast lizards and kangaroos using earth ovens.

The hop-on bus made its final run of the day, and once collecting everyone from the park, headed to the sunset viewing area. Uluru is roughly the shape of a scalene triangle, with three sides of unequal length. The northern face is sacred, and photos aren’t allowed. The eastern face catches the morning sun and is the focus of the sunrise viewing area. The western face catches the afternoon sun, and that was the view we admired. I absolutely loved the sunsets. Uluru would glow ember red, all of its ridges perfectly delineated in shadow, then slowly fade to purple and black. Some days it even reddened and darkened multiple times as the sun was masked and unmasked by clouds.

The sunrise was also beautiful, in a different way. The eastern face had deeper ridges, so the sunlight was broken into fragments, each sliver of light alternating with a pocket of shadow. I realized these ridges were the “toes” of the foot I had seen from above.

​I joined a guided walk with an Anangu park ranger. He spoke just loud enough for the large crowd to hear and explained his ideas in a very roundabout way. Standing for long periods of time and struggling to hear while the flies attacked wasn’t the most pleasant time. But there were some great nuggets of wisdom. He added context around the places we stopped, including a rock art site, a cave used to prepare food, and a watering hole where animals were hunted.

​Afterwards, I peeled off and started the Uluru Base Walk on my own. The flies had been a simmering annoyance the past few days, but on the north side of the rock, they started an all-out war. I was shooing them constantly and could barely stop for a sip of water without getting swarmed. One fellow hiker quipped that I had learned the “Aussie salute.”

Up close, Uluru had a totally different texture than I was expecting. It was flaky, like a sheet of oxidized fish scales. Unlike the “plum pudding” conglomerate of Kata Tjuta, Uluru was striated, with vertical sheets of sedimentary rock. The most striking feature was its smoothness and round edges. Depending on the angle, the rock seemed more fluid than solid, like bunched fabric, or skin stretched over bony protuberances and superficial veins. As I walked around its perimeter, I also appreciated the variation in the weathering patterns. There were crater holes, pock marks, grooves that looked like hatchet blows, clean faces from rockslides, giant fissures, and incomprehensible tessellations that looked like honeycomb.

​One of these anomalies was man-made: the pathway used by climbers when scaling “Ayer’s Rock” was an option. I thought of Nola and Graham, the couple I met in the Grampians, who said they had climbed it during one of their visits. The path was treacherous, steep enough to require a network of poles and ropes and had several tourist fatalities. It was officially closed in 2019 out of respect for the cultural significance of the site. The trodden gray path will eventually oxidize and turn red again.

The second Uluru sunrise was even prettier than the first, as there were clouds that absorbed and reflected the changing colors. Afterwards I did a short hike called the Liru Walk, a peaceful connector trail between the Base Walk and the Cultural Center. I took some time to admire the amazing variety of desert plants. It’s called the Red Center, but it was surprisingly green! The area is considered semi-arid and had 6 sub-categories of desert habitat, each with a different mix of flora. Two common ones were “puti” which is dominated by mulga trees, and “pila” which has spinifex grass and desert oaks. During a period of time when the traditional owners were forced off the land, mismanagement and bushfires caused damage to the ecosystem. Introduced species like buffel grass have helped with soil cohesion but continue to pose problems for native species. There’s definitely more than meets the eye.

​Back at the resort, I participated in a Dot Painting workshop in the town square. It was led by a bubbly white lady and a quiet Anangu lady. We started at a sandbox, where this odd couple explained some of the recurring symbols like concentric circles, which indicate an important place but can have multiple meanings (i.e. water source, animal nest, etc.) Then we were let loose with the art supplies, and encouraged to create a painting inspired by our own stories and experiences. In parallel, the Anangu lady worked on a painting so we could see her expert technique.

Creating a sea of evenly sized dots was actually a bit harder than I expected. But I had fun trying to translate my own story into abstract symbols, while chatting with other people at the table. My design shows three important places – home with Mom and Dad, college where I learned from “elders,” and Southern California where I was “hunting” for work. They’re connected by travel lines, and surrounded by forests, oceans, and deserts. I gave this mini map of the USA its own Red Center.

​While in town, I finally decided to buy a fly net. It was a good investment for my remaining days!

​In the afternoon, I returned to Kata Tjuta for a second, shorter hike called Walpa Gorge. Also on the outing were a few families with young kids, as it was the end of Victoria’s school break and the beginning the NSW’s week off. The steep conglomerate canyon had a wonderful echo as the kids who had run ahead shouted back to their parents. There were even more unique plants that only grew around the rock pools.

After dark, I joined a stargazing tour that was a major highlight of the Uluru visit. The tour took place in the sunset viewing area, now free from the usual fleet of buses. First, the guide named the major constellations, using a powerful green laser as a pointer. She also explained the Aboriginal stories associated with these constellations. For example, a tribe in the north has a story about three brothers in a canoe who broke a cultural norm and were lifted into the sky. The brothers are the 3 stars that other cultures may know as Orion’s belt! She also explained how to use the Southern Cross to find south. This important constellation is only visible in the Southern Hemisphere and is featured on Australia’s flag.

Thanks to the clear desert skies, the Milky Way was also visible. The guide pointed out a shadow called the Dark Emu, which really does look like an emu. Its position also correlates with the emu nesting season. The tour included a professional long-exposure photo that made the Dark Emu even more visible! In parallel with the photos, the guides also had telescopes aimed at interesting stars. Betelgeuse was due for a supernova and already seemed to be flickering. The “jewel box” had a few multicolored stars in close proximity. It was a nice addition to the tour, but my eyes were a little dry this late in the day, so squinting into a telescope was less fruitful than just soaking in the night sky.
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One of the wildest parts of the experience was just watching the stars move over time. At the beginning of the tour, Scorpio was still partially hidden behind Uluru. By the time we took photos, it had fully risen! I’ve seen time lapse videos of stars moving, but seeing it with my own eyes was magical.

​The next day was a much-needed chance to recharge. It was nice to wake up after sunrise for the first time in five days. I visited a camel farm and learned about the role of camels in opening central Australia. The Outback conditions were too tough for horses, so camels and their cameleers were imported from Afghanistan, India, and Pakistan, collectively called the Afghans. With the help of camel labor, the railroads and telegraph lines were built. Afterwards, the camels were released into the wild and there is now a large feral population. The info center had lots of camel fun facts, and not-so fun facts. For example, since camels chew with a sideways motion, then can’t be bridled like horses, so the reins are instead attached to nose pegs. The farm offered camel riding tours that get good reviews, but I was content to watch the camel caravans return to the stables. Seeing their gangly legs fold up as their bodies lowered to the ground was good entertainment. At the leader's prompt, the line of camels popped right back up in quick succession. What awkward, magnificent creatures.

​The afternoon was all about art shopping. The Gallery of Central Australia (GOCA) was small but had stacks on stacks of canvases from local artists that were ethically commissioned and compensated. Though I also browsed the artwork being offered in the town square by the Anangu ladies, I ultimately bought a painting at the GOCA. I picked it for the design without knowing the backstory. I was pleasantly surprised when the cashier produced a written description of the story it’s based on. It’s called the Emu Dreaming and involves a squabble between the emu and the bush turkey over berries!

​For dinner, I visited the Outback Lodge’s DIY grilling station. I purchased the mixed meat combo from the counter, which included access to their pre-heated grills and salad bar. The combo included an emu kebab, a camel sausage, and a lamb chop. I can’t say that I would seek out these exotic meats again, but I had to try them. I asked the cashier for tips on the cooking times for the emu and camel, though ironically, I think it was also the first time I had grilled lamb.

I was joined at the table by a fellow American named Ayon, who I met the day before. He was the only other person in my dorm room. His alarm had been blasting non-stop at 5:00am that morning, and I had to walk all the way across the room to prod him awake. Ayon was an extroverted solo traveler, with plenty of countries under his belt, and we chatted over a few refreshing draft beers. My favorite beer was from an Aboriginal-owned brewery called Jarrah Boy. In the background, there was also free live music on a small stage. It was a good, laid-back evening.

On the last full day, I took a guided tour to King’s Canyon, about a 3 hour drive away. It was an early 4:35am pickup from a large charter bus. The company (AAT Kings) provided a professional service. We stopped for a buffet breakfast, much better than my usual oatmeal, and I chatted with a British couple. 

Though the Red Center is now flat, it was once an ancient mountain range. As the mountains eroded, the sediment began to accumulate in alluvial fans. Rising sea levels created an ocean that compacted these layers of sediment. More years passed, and the ocean disappeared. Then, a geological event called the Alice Springs Orogeny lifted the sedimentary rock, sometimes rotating it in the process. The exposed rock continued to erode, leaving the landscape we see today.
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This same sequence of events created Uluru, Kata Tjuta, and King’s Canyon with subtle differences. For Uluru, the layers of arkose sandstone rotated almost 90 degrees in the orogeny, creating its vertical ridges. For Kata Tjuta, its coarse conglomerate goes back to the gravelly composition of its original alluvial deposits. King’s Canyon was even more complex. In some areas, the action of shifting winds on ancient sand dunes created a tangle of layers called “cross bedding.” On top of the plateau, erosion created a cityscape of rounded domes. And the canyon itself started as a fracture line in the soft Mereenie sandstone that widened over 20 million years. The guide emphasized the importance of not getting too close to the edge, as this soft Mereenie sandstone has been known to break off in house-sized chunks. But the smooth faces left behind are stunning.

​The Rim Walk was a real treat, running alongside cross bedded canyons and fossilized ocean floors. The best part of the hike was descending into the canyon itself, to an area called the Garden of Eden. This hidden oasis was lined with ancient cyclad ferns and ghost gum trees. The trees’ smooth, white branches were striking against the red canyon walls, like a scene from an Albert Namatjira watercolor. We stopped for a break alongside a rock pool before climbing the network of staircases back to the top. During the final leg, we encountered a group of colorful spinifex pigeons, one of the few wildlife sightings.

​The rest of the day was less eventful, with a stop for lunch and a few bathroom breaks. The guide pointed out a large plateau along the Lasseter Highway, officially called Mt. Conner, but also known as “Fooluru” because people driving from Alice Springs often mistake it for the better-known rock. The fact there’s *another* giant rock in the middle of nowhere was initially mind boggling, but started to make sense after thinking about the geological processes at work.

​The next afternoon, I savored my last glimpse of Uluru from the window as the plane climbed to cruising altitude. A day earlier, I met a young Australian pilot at the Outback Lodge, who had flown himself and a friend from Sunshine Coast to Uluru. He said that the Red Center was one of the most scenic places he had ever flown. But it was just one of many ways to appreciate this special place. With its stunning rock formations, unique flora, Anangu culture, sunsets, sunrises, and night skies, the Red Center was just so different from everywhere else. There was so much richness in its deceptive simplicity.

​After a delightful nature getaway in the Grampians, I returned to Melbourne for a weeklong interlude before my next trip, to Uluru. It was a mostly rainy week, so I used it as an excuse to visit some of the indoor attractions I had been keeping in the reserve. I explored some top-notch museums and galleries that added more depth to my understanding of the city’s attractions.

​The National Gallery of Victoria, or NGV, is so large that it has two campuses. One in the Arts Precinct housing the international collection, and one in Fed Square hosting the Australian collection. I had briefly visited the NGV International with Vincent and Rachel back in January but wanted to circle back to see more. In particular, the NGV was wrapping up its Triennial exhibition – I managed to catch the very last day! I knew about the Triennial from word of mouth, newspaper articles, and intriguing posters around town, depicting a duct-taped banana and Boston Dynamics robots. These were just the tip of the iceberg.

The Triennial artworks were not in a single gallery, but rather spread out through the whole building, interspersed with the permanent works. There were too many to describe, but I will pick a few favorites.
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A series of slow-moving digital animations by the artist group SMACK were captivating and horrific. The installation was a riff on The Garden of Earthly Delights, a 16th century triptych by Hieronymus Bosch. The SMACK version used the iconography of modern excesses, with viral dances, fast-food consumerism, and in the panel representing hell, creative methods of punishment like an angry swarm of security cameras. People were captivated.

​The Boston Dynamics robots were also worth seeing. It was a zoo-like exhibit, with three robots doing different activities. One was painting on the wall, creating the primitive cave artwork of the AI era. Another was doing laps and engaging with the spectators with knowing looks and head bobs. People were loving it. Though I wish there was more information about what the robots were programmed to do, versus what was spontaneous behavior.

​There were also interesting sculptures that blended the natural and the unnatural, like a felled tree made of recycled wooden tools, a giant floor rug inspired by weather patterns, and a classroom full of dodo skeletons with grafted tree branches. An exhibit on flowers and transience had rows of preserved bouquets. A room full of projection screens showcased photography from megacities around the world. I found the famous ceramic hamburgers in the China gallery.

​Continuing the art themed day, I explored some of Melbourne’s famous laneways in search of street art. Thanks to the city’s grid design, which neatly sub-divides the major city blocks with smaller lanes, one doesn’t have to stray far from Flinders Street or Collins Street to encounter graffiti.

​The laneways were full of eclectic subjects, from Baby Yoda to Aboriginal rights. Nearby ACDC Lane had a few tributes to Bon Scott. Along Hosier Lane, I saw a new painting being created in real-time. The artist had drawn a sketch outline of an elf character and was starting to fill in the base color. The clacking sound of the shaking cans and pungent cloud of solvent turned this primarily visual art into a multi-sensory experience. I returned a few days later to see the finished product, looking very polished.

The Melbourne Museum, located in the Carlton Gardens and a short walk from my apartment, was the next destination on my list. It was popular with families, especially during Victoria’s school holidays.
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An exhibit focusing on Aboriginal culture and history was thoughtfully crafted. There were beautiful possum cloaks, some using 50 pelts, with elaborate artwork and maps drawn on the inside. It described funeral practices, like the practice of wearing a heavy, rounded mourning cap made of gypsum. It also emphasized the Aboriginal groups’ armed resistance to Europeans, such as the Eumerella Wars, to dispel the myth of a passive takeover. The colonists were only able to quell the Aboriginal guerilla methods by using a force called the Native Police, Aboriginal soldiers conscripted from other areas who were able to navigate the terrain.

​A special photography gallery highlighted the intersectionality between being indigenous and disabled. A shocking 46% of First Nations Australians have some form of disability and are 2.6 times more likely to have a profound disability. The individual stories were diverse and saddening. One man lost his vision after British nuclear bombs were tested near their community in Maralinga in the 1950s. One woman developed a severe disease after an allergic reaction due to medical malpractice. Another man was injured by a land mine in Vietnam. The pictures of each subject were black and white holograms, just as striking as the stories.

​Upstairs was an exhibit on the history of Melbourne as a city, from the gold rush to the present. It explained the role of individuals like Captain William Lonsdale and Governor Richard Bourke, whose names now grace the major streets in the CBD. I learned some great trivia, like the government’s 1868 mandate of a specific cast iron ornament (featuring the Melbourne coat of arms) that I now notice on buildings all over the city. Also on display was the taxidermy of the famous racehorse Phar Lap.

​In addition to social history, a huge section of the Melbourne Museum was dedicated to natural history. While many people were there for the dinosaur skeletons, my highlight was the entomology wing. There were beautiful cases of preserved beetle and moth specimens, but also a fair number of living displays… including spiders. Not just the “everyday” spiders like white-tails or huntsman, but several types of the deadly Funnel Web spider. Thankfully, antivenom was developed in 1981 and there have been no recorded deaths since. The largest spider display had tree branches with enormous webs and their weavers, but no glass barrier. I hope the curators knew what they were doing. The museum also had a forest-garden with ferns, birds, and an aquarium.

Leaving the museum, I got caught in a downpour and was thoroughly soaked. I didn’t learn from my mistake and was caught in another downpour the next morning while walking to the tram station.
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The NGV Australia Gallery was in a beautiful building with a network of glass triangles on its façade. On display were works by modern Aboriginal artists, historical colonial paintings, watercolor landscapes from the Hermannsburg School, the personal collection of Joseph Brown, and new commissions from a mentorship program. A few favorites were a 1955 John Brack painting of Melbourne commuters, an eerie wire music box, and a parody of the MacDonnell mountain range featuring the golden arches.

​After soaking in the artwork for a few hours, I tried an almond croissant at Lune, a well-known bakery with multiple locations in the city. I found the croissant itself to be a little too soft, but the crunchy almond topping was delicious. The bakery had a constant stream of tourists and locals, and it was fun to watch the pastry pipeline in progress.

The next day, I went to the Chadstone Mall with Reggie for some shopping errands. “Chaddy” is the largest mall in Australia! It was impressive in both scale and layout. There was a mini entertainment precinct, several food courts, and a hundreds of shops. I bought some lightweight “amphibian” short pants, tried on some adventure hats, and scoped out wedding clothes. I don’t enjoy shopping for clothing and tend to get indecisive, so I passed on a few items.

After unsuccessfully continuing the hunt in the CBD, I ended up going back to Chaddy a second day in a row to buy the wedding shirt. It wasn’t the easiest journey, requiring a regional train and a bus connection. I got lost trying to find my way out of the mall, prolonging the return journey.

​The Melbourne International Comedy Festival was in full swing, with dozens of comedy acts happening in parallel every night at venues around the city. I went to see an Indian comedian named Anirban Dasgupta at the Town Hall, and Gail was kind enough to join. The venue was the Cloak Room, a small but comfortable space. Anirban’s comedy centered on Indian life and politics, poking fun at censorship, Gandhi, and crowded living situations. The jokes were well crafted and entertaining.

​Afterwards, Gail and I went to a cocktail bar called Nick & Nora’s with a 1930’s art deco theme. The vast menu was organized into different character tropes, like the femme fatal and the bon vivant. I tried two drinks: the “Met your Matcha” with whiskey, pistachio, lemon, and matcha and the “Golden Slip” with cognac, yellow Chartreuse, egg, and nutmeg. Both drinks were phenomenal. It was a cozy bar, with wooden paneling, low lighting, and electroswing music. The perfect place to gossip the evening away. Just as it was quieting down, a flaming drink was elaborated prepared for the table next to us. It was a delightful evening of comedy and conversation.

​Even after several months in Melbourne, there was so much new to experience. A rainy week was the perfect nudge to focus on museums, galleries, shopping, and entertainment.

​As a lover of hiking and nature, the Grampian mountains in regional Victoria had been on my radar for a while. I visited in early April, which is supposed to be a good time as it's the fall. It was indeed extremely pleasant with sunny days and cold nights. The trails, views, and wildlife were also very enjoyable. It quickly became one of my favorite places in Australia!

In the week leading up to the Grampians trip, there was plenty afoot in Melbourne. I explored a new running destination called Royal Park. Though I had to cross a few busy streets to get there, it was a nice slice of open space in the middle of the city. It also ended up being my longest run since leaving California, a bit over 5 miles. A few days later, the Carlton Gardens reopened and I resumed my usual route that didn’t require any major crossings.

​Later I met up with Reggie at the District Docklands shopping mall. The layout reminded me of the big outdoor malls in Southern California, complete with ping pong tables, a ferris wheel, and a Costco. Unfortunately, this mall was quite dead. The ferris wheel hasn’t operated in 3 years and is a sad part of the Docklands skyline. We had lunch at a Nando’s chicken, Portuguese chicken restaurant chain with locations all over Melbourne, known for their peri-peri sauce. I tried the medium and found it to be a little spicy! Reggie warned me that many stores, even Wooly's, would be closed on Good Friday. A very helpful tip, as I didn't expect Good Friday to be such a big deal in Australia.

Afterwards I browsed at a sporting goods store, full of Australian football gear, and picked up a Carlton Blues jersey. The Blues were having a great start to the season, and I was hoping to attend a game soon. It was fun to check out the other teams’ jerseys as well. While footy has strongest ties in Victoria, there are plenty of expansion teams all over Australia. In fact, Tasmania just unveiled its first-ever AFL team, the Tasmania Devils. The jersey design, an outline of Tasmania with a capital “T,” has gotten some criticism but the initial membership sales have done extremely well.
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There was also lots of AFL team clothing at K-mart. In Australia, K-mart is something like Target in the US. Tons of departments, not a lot of depth in any one area, and branding that suggests “affordable middle class.” I found a Carlton hoodie for $25 AUD ($16 USD). The stock remaining on the rack hinted at the different teams’ popularity – sorry Hawthorne Hawks.

I successfully found a chocolate Easter Bilby at my local Wooly’s. The bilby is a long-eared, endangered native marsupial and the Australian alternative to the Easter Bunny. 

This Saturday for our Parkrun, Ben and I tried the Kirkdale Reserve course. It was a smaller event than our usual course at Princes’ Park, which meant less maneuvering through the pack was required. The course-master, wearing Easter bunny ears, explained the route: an out-and-back along the scenic Merri Creek trail. Ben and I agreed it was the best of the 3 courses we’d tried.
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We sought a post-run coffee, but a lot of places were closed over Easter weekend. We opted for a place near my apartment called Mile End Bagels. After a long bagel-less stretch, an avocado-loaded everything bagel hit the spot. Though it was a bit crispy and dry, probably from the wood-fire baking. I noticed they had an Easter special, so I ordered another bagel to-go. It was inspired by the hot-cross bun, and had a chocolate hazelnut dough and a rich cream cheese that tasted like orange.

Another day of shopping errands. I returned to the Docklands District to swap my Carlton jersey for a size that fit better. Then I headed to the CBD and picked up a few supplies for the Grampians including a gym bag. While there, I happened to see a group of actors in Roman costumes enacting the crucifixion of Jesus Christ in front of the Bourke Street Mall.
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On Easter Sunday, I wasn’t willing to brave the brunch crowds, especially with holiday surge pricing at restaurants in Australia, so I cooked my own. My favorite brunch food is corned beef hash, but I had never prepared corned beef before. I was pretty thrilled with the result!

​But the real Easter egg hunt occurred on Easter Monday. I went to an escape room (my first ever) with my Canadian flatmate JL. He had done an escape room with this company and was eager for another go. The one we did together was mafia themed. It started in a diner, which led to a hidden prison cell and a poker room, eventually finishing in the mob boss’ office. In addition to the regular clues, there were actual chocolate Easter eggs hidden in the rooms! As a lover of puzzles, it was a fantastic experience. Since there were only 2 of us, we needed a few hints from the staff (communicated via TV screen) but were able to complete the whole room in time. One of the cleverest puzzles was at the poker table, which had four partially obscured cards underneath the glass. Using a loose deck of cards, we had to identify them by matching against the sections that were visible. The four matching cards spelled out the combination to a lock. JL said it was one of the best escape rooms that he’d visited.

​I was able to travel to the Grampians via public transportation. The process was a little convoluted, but surprisingly cheap. From Melbourne I took a train to Ballarat, changed to bus and went to Stawell, then took a second bus to Hall’s Gap. Round trip the whole thing cost about $12 USD. But it’s an infrequent route, so if the rainy weather in Melbourne had caused delays, I could have been stranded at one of the layovers. On a Tuesday after Easter weekend, I was the only person taking that journey. I had the eerie experience of spending 30 minutes at the beautiful and completely deserted Stawell train station, which was decommissioned in the 90’s and now only serves as a bus stop.

​Hall’s Gap was instantly recognizable as the archetypical outdoors resort town. It was in a scenic valley and had one main road with a visitor center, a general store, and a few restaurants and ice cream shops. There was a mix of accommodation, including camp sites, caravan parks, motels, and eco lodges. There were plenty of families on their Easter vacations, whose abandoned picnic tables were quickly investigated by the cockatoos.

​The afternoon was still plagued with rain showers, and the hostel check-in wasn’t available until 4:00pm, so I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. I went to the visitor center for hiking recommendations, had a cup of coffee and read The Age, and watched the birds in the picnic area. Of course, when I finally decided to walk across town towards the hostel, the rain picked up. I stopped to pity the wet kangaroos in the Recreation Reserve, who looked very unhappy.

​The hostel was quiet when I arrived in the lobby, clad in waterproof gear but still rather wet. Even though the room wasn’t ready, the owner kindly lit a fireplace in the lounge so I could dry my bags and wait in comfort. Not long after, a Welsh backpacker arrived. I learned his name was Morgan, he was on a working holiday, and had a potential lead on a job in Hall’s Gap.

​The YHA Grampians hostel was modern, spacious, and nicely laid out. There was a large dining area, a duplex kitchen separated by pantry cubbies, and two lounges. These common areas were separated from the rooms by a long corridor with glass windows looking into the courtyard. At one point, I spotted a large kangaroo in this courtyard, trying to scratch an itch on its back It was one of the most ideal hostels I’ve encountered! And it was a key part of the trip, because I stayed there for all 4 nights.

For dinner, I had packed myself a shelf stable meal kit in Melbourne. I prepared this meal of pasta and red sauce in the lively but not overcrowded kitchen. There, I met a teacher from New Hampshire who was also on a year-long trip around the world, and had been many places including Antarctica. Our dinner table also included a few Spaniards – the Grampians drew an international crowd.

The room itself only had 3 beds, a refreshingly low density. I had arrived first and claimed the bed without a bunk above. My second roommate arrived, a middle-aged American named Christophe who was talkative but down to earth. And as luck would have it, Morgan became the third roommate. The three of us got along well and stayed up talking even after lights out, like a sleepover.
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Three full days in the Grampians. Three hikes starting in Hall’s Gap. The first was to Chataqua Peak, which had views down the valley towards the reservoir. The second was to the Pinnacle Lookout, the flagship hike on the west side of the valley. The third was to Boronia Peak, opposite Pinnacle Lookout on the east side of the valley. Though the scenery was similar, the journeys up and down were quite different.

On the way back down, I stopped by a waterfall site that’s normally dry, in hopes the recent rain had brought it back to life. It was just a trickle, and fellow hikers joked it was a “waterfall for ants.” The trail ended at the Recreation Reserve, the sports field where I had seen the wet kangaroos. Today the kangaroos were dry, and there was a flock of humans admiring them. One lady had a bag and was feeding them. On this day, for whatever reason, I was inspired to intervene. I tried to explain that feeding wild animals can change their behavior, and even though they’re cute, we need to respect them. The lady claimed she got the food from the local zoo (which I believed) and the zookeeper told her it was okay to feed the wild kangaroos in the park (total BS). She was pretty adamant. Usually people can be shamed into stopping, but not this person. Several onlookers were supportive of my effort, but I couldn’t do anything more, and walked away. Turned out there was an enormous sign about this exact topic right behind us. Some people!

​Later on, I went for a twilight walk to see wildlife in town. Hall’s Gap surprised me with its abundance of animals. There were kangaroos by the general store, kangaroos by the playground, kangaroos in the park. Though widespread through the area, the focal point was the Recreation Reserve. It seemingly had a different animal every morning – kangaroos, emus, even a group of deer. It was only a block from the hostel, and along this tree-lined corridor there were tons of birds. Kookaburras were easily seen in the trees and flew surprisingly close to me. There were also sulfur crested cockatoos, magpies, currawongs, honeyeaters, and crimson rosellas.

​The hostel was a lot less crowded that night, but still ended up being social. I ran into the American teacher again, Angela, who was headed back to Melbourne and then onto Oman. I found out that Morgan had successfully got the job and was making his debut as a waiter at the Kookaburra Hotel. After dark, Cristophe (the other American) unexpectedly showed up at the room’s patio door, despite checking out in the morning. He tried to get my permission to stay an extra night without a booking (the staff had already gone home) which I didn’t support.

​The ascent to the Pinnacle Lookout followed a creek upstream and had regular views of peaceful rock pools like the Venus Baths. The trail had some fun features, like metal staircases, wooden bridges, and navigating across rock fields. I worked up a good sweat, completely soaking through my shirt, but there were some even more ambitious athletes around – rock climbers and trail runners. The path entered a shady trench called Silent Street, which narrowed to shoulder width during the final staircase. The lookout itself was a manmade viewing platform with rails, not for the faint of heart. I preferred to admire the panorama from a rocky outcrop, where dropping my phone would not be an irreversible situation. I chatted with a friendly hippie-hiker who had just come from Confest, an alternative lifestyle event in NSW. She sounded a bird call to locate her boyfriend, who had wandered off.

​The descent via the Wonderland Trail followed a completely different route, which kept things interesting. It was less crowded, and I got a good view of a large lizard on a sunny rock before it sequestered itself into a shady crevice. The air was fresh with the scent of eucalyptus, and dancing butterflies with patterns I had never seen before.

​Over dinner, I met a wonderful Australian couple, Nola and Graham. They had driven from Kiama, a coastal town south of Sydney, and were headed to Adelaide. It turned out that Nola had worked for Medtronic for a few years, out of the Sydney office. Graham was a carpenter and used to work at the Sydney Botanical Gardens, where I had seen the NYE fireworks. He had funny stories about drunk partiers getting stuck in trees and helping with the relocation of the gardens’ fruit bat colony. They said I looked like Roger Federer, which I’m now really starting to believe having heard it a few times. When I ran into Graham over breakfast the next morning, he jokingly called me “Roger!”

​Boronia Peak’s online reviews had claimed it was not much effort for the views you get. I took this to mean it was an easy hike with decent views. What they meant was a difficult hike with stunning views. It started out innocently, with a flat creek-side trail with dozens of kangaroos and no other people. Then it started climbing and didn’t stop. Reaching the summit involved scaling a few boulders, but it was worthwhile. There were 360-degree views, encompassing both the Grampians and the plains of regional Victoria. Using my binoculars, I spotted a field full of emus not far from the town.

​Instead of going directly back to the hostel, I took a side trail that was recommended by the visitor center. It turned out to go through the field of emus – as I had secretly hoped when adding the extra mileage. There were around 20 of them, grazing in the field, lifting their long necks in between rounds. One was on the path directly ahead and didn’t meander away as I approached. It had a stern, surly look in its eye, and seemed aware of my presence, so I gave it space. In a 1:1 fight with that massive bird, I wasn’t confident I’d walk away in one piece. I gingerly passed after it wandered a safe distance.

​I had another dinner with Graham and Nola, and afterwards we watched a National Rugby League game in the lounge. They were rooting for the Illawara Dragons, who were defeated by the Newcastle Knights. The were kind and explained some of the gameplay so I could follow along. While the body contact was like American football, the gameplay was considerably faster, with no down time between downs (called tackles). There were major rainstorms on the East Coast, and the playing field was a giant slip-n-slide. Players were skidding off the field and crashing into the boundary walls with epic splashes of water. Still, there was a sizeable crowd. One of the fans was wearing a snorkel mask, and when the camera found him, lifted his foot to reveal a diving fin. A rugby fan himself, Morgan returned from his shift and joined us in the lounge. Graham and Nola complimented him on his waiting, as they happened to dine at the Kookaburra on Wednesday, which was Morgan’s first day. Morgan humbly brushed it off, which was even funnier knowing that he had exaggerated his hospitality experience to get the job.

Alas, my time in the Grampians had come to a close. I reversed the elaborate journey. As it was a Saturday, the bus heading from Stawell towards Melbourne was completely full with regional Victorians heading into the city. I squeezed into a crowded tram, an unpleasant but familiar end to the journey.
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It’s hard for me to think of a more perfect nature getaway than my time in the Grampians. There were fun and challenging hikes with great views, a social hostel with enough multi-day guests to make friends, and a whole menagerie of cute Australian animals. I could sleep in, catch up on journaling, and make simple but healthy meals. The evenings were pleasantly cool, perfect for sweatpants and a hoodie. Having a car would have opened up a plethora of options to see more of the Grampians, but I was content with my walking-oriented format. On a different trip, I think the area could be appreciated in one day (via the Pinnacle Lookout). In my case, having 4 nights provided a wonderful opportunity to live a bit slower and truly immerse in this natural wonderland.

Melbourne’s dazzling events calendar is one of my favorite things about the city. In this post are 7 special events that I attended in March, from a flower exhibition to Formula One. The show's about to begin... open up your QR code ticket and find your seat!

At the beginning of March, I returned to South Melbourne to visit Gail and help with some miscellaneous house jobs before going to a live music event together. ​While there, I got to meet another one of her former Servas guests, an English girl named Aimee, who (like me) had settled into Melbourne for a longer stay. One of my tasks was setting up a small wooden house in the cat courtyard. Katie did an approving walkthrough.

The evening's plan was dinner at Claypots Evening Star, the seafood restaurant with the live music that was mysteriously absent the last time I visited. Second time’s a charm! The long awaited music, featuring Jane Clifton, was indeed on. Jane had a beautiful singing voice and big, fun stage presence. The song selection, which was very familiar to Gail and somewhat familiar to myself, included artists like Neil Young, the Beatles, and The Animals. The guitarist, Jeff Burstin, kept up with Jane’s energy with skillful strumming. It was a relaxed performance; at Jeff's feet were a glass of wine and a phone playing the Australian football season opening match. Next door, there was a party at a Greek restaurant and people dressed in all white were regularly passing by. Jane caught on quickly, turning it into a recurring joke.

​One morning I needed to focus on travel planning, so I went to my local library. It opened late on Fridays, and while I waited, I tried a coffee at the adjacent café. Though a humble little nook, it still served a mean flat white! Yet another reminder of the ubiquity of good espresso drinks in Australia. Once the library opened, I researched tour options for visiting Kakadu, and locked in a 5-day guided expedition.

After returning from Canberra, I headed to the Arts Precinct on back-to-back nights. The first evening was a concert, part of a University of Melbourne series called Guitar Perspectives. Zeah had put the event on my radar, and I got to see here there. We caught up before and after the show, and she introduced me to a current student and a Uni Mel guitar professor.
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The first half of the performance featured John Griffiths on the vihuela, a 16th century Spanish instrument and predecessor of the classical guitar. It appeared to be a very finicky instrument, so it wasn’t the cleanest performance, but it was special to hear it played live. I appreciated the way that Griffiths, a scholar just as much as a performer, described each piece’s backstory and invited the audience into that world.

​The second half was Peter Croton on the archlute, an enormous instrument with an aggressive number of strings and a deliciously rich bass. He played an impressive array of works, including some familiar Bach pieces. As an encore, we heard a vihuela/archlute duet, which was somewhat comedic due to the ungainly size of the archlute and the fickle tuning of the vihuela.

The second evening was a play called “37” at the Melbourne Theater Company. It was about racial tensions on a fictional Australian-rules football team. In the play, a struggling team called the Currawongs recruits two cousins of Aboriginal descent to be their star players, in hopes of finally winning a premiership. The main character, Jayma, is talented and plays footy with joy but is quick to call out his teammates’ racist remarks. His cousin Sonny plays for the money and prefers to let these microaggressions slide. Through locker room banter, the white teammates’ varying levels of cluelessness and malice bubble to the surface. Despite these serious themes, the play was also a really funny, with a few moments that left the audience in stitches. It was both thought-provoking and a crowd pleaser.

The play gets its title from the jersey number of Adam Goodes, a professional footy player of Aboriginal descent. At one point, Goodes was called an “ape” by a 13-year-old girl and called the girl out, leading opposing fans to boo him during future games. In a separate incident, Goodes was criticized for pantomiming the act of throwing a boomerang at the opposing team during a celebration dance. Goodes was named Australian of the Year in 2014 for his anti-racism advocacy but retired from the game in 2015. The boomerang incident was referenced in the play and became a litmus test that divided the teammates, with Jayma wearing the 37 jersey to signify his support for Goodes.

The season of Survivor: Australia finished, and was high-quality all the way to the end. Amazingly, the two sets of rivals, who became the de facto main characters, ended up in the final five. Having good players make it late into the game is always a treat. The winner, an HR manager from West Sydney named Feras, aka the smiling assassin, was very deserving. His complicated love/hate relationship with the no-nonsense footy coach, Kirby, really defined the season. I continued my Survivor lamington tradition, discovering that "lamington fingers" were superior to "jam lamingtons," as the fingers had more surface area for the chocolate and coconut.
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Speaking of food, I made an effort to sample unfamiliar Aussie or British-influenced treats, like Maltesers, ANZAC biscuits, Milo ice cream, and hot cross buns. Unfortunately, a few of my chocolate bars from the Great Ocean Road had melted and deformed during a heatwave, so I put them out of their misery. One was a tasty chocolate bar flavored with native Australian bush plants. On the savory side, I tried a “cheesymite scroll” - a spiral bun with Vegemite. It was a more favorable impression of Vegemite than my initial one.

Around the shared apartment, I met Eirik, a Norwegian exchange student, and Joaquin, a Chilean exchange student – both electrical engineers. I also met a French student named Madeline who was researching a cave in Tasmania. But overall, it seemed quieter around the place. Fewer people, and less chatty ones. An exception was the boisterous JL, a Canadian physiotherapist, who was still a reliable source of an energetic conversation.
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Saturday mornings, I continued attending the Parkrun 5k events with my Kiwi friend Ben, usually going out for coffee afterwards. As faster runners on the course, we had the advantage of getting our coffee orders in earlier! I learned that Ben had lived in Ireland for some time, which explained his hybrid accent. One morning before the run, I saw hot air balloons launching in the distance, a pretty sight from Princes Park.

On a gorgeous Sunday afternoon, the Melb-Furs hosted a BBQ meetup along the Yarra River. The free public grills were shiny and clean, as any upstanding Australian citizen would expect from their government. The staff supplied and prepared the sausages, asking only for a “gold coin donation,” an Aussie term meaning either a $1 or $2 coin. Some people wore fursuits, though usually in a lighter version called a “partial,” meaning just the heads and paws (no bodysuit). From the riverbank, the fursuiters sometimes caught the attention of the boats cruising by and exchanged waves. A first-time attendee named Sed, a freshman at RMIT, imprinted on me and followed me around for the afternoon. It was kind of endearing, and I tried to help him integrate into the community. Afterwards, people continued hanging out at the Central Mall, where I refueled my social batteries with a Vietnamese iced coffee.

The Tuesday barmeets continued as well. Each week I got to know my new friends a little better. I found out that Walter is a fellow classical guitar player; that Rowdy went to boarding school in the UK; that March was going to an upcoming convention in Thailand. Daniel explained the concept of the “Easter Bilby,” an Aussie alternative to the Easter Bunny. The barmeets were well-attended and I only ever recognized about a third of the folks. New characters frequently emerged from the woodwork. For example, a wide-eyed fellow named Ossi who arrived wearing pilot goggles over his mane of hair. Despite his unusual appearance, he turned out to be a pleasant conversationalist.
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Over the course of my travels, the wheels on my rolling Swiss Gear suitcase had eroded into unrecognizable blobs of rubber. The suitcase may have been under warranty, but to save shipping time, I completed a DIY repair using replacement wheels from Amazon. As part of the job, I had to detach the old wheels by cutting through steel bolts. Having few tools at my disposal, I resorted to a serrated butter knife. Slowly but surely, it sawed through. I guess I’m still a stubborn engineer at heart.

​The larger-than-life Miriam Margolyes is a British actress who became an Australian citizen, best known for playing Professor Sprout in the Harry Potter movies. Before my trip, I watched her TV miniseries called “Almost Australian” where she travels around the country interviewing a diverse set of locals in her signature style, full of comedy, empathy, and foul language. In a wonderful coincidence, I had the chance to see her live at the Melbourne Arts Centre in a one-off event.

Miriam shared the stage with a friend, who loosely acted as moderator, and an Auslan sign language interpreter. The Auslan interpreter quickly became an accomplice to the comedy. Right off the bat, Miriam rattled off some of her favorite swear words just to see how the interpreter signed them. It was a hilarious and inclusive moment. Later on when Miriam was doing an impression of an unpleasant high school teacher, the Auslan interpreter added goofy facial expressions and nervous tics that totally captured the spirit of the bit, to Miriam’s and the audience’s delight.

The first half was a stream of consciousness, including a funny anecdote about Maggie Smith, more lewd humor, and a commentary on the Israel-Gaza crisis. Miriam, a Jewish woman, strongly condemned the Israeli government while also condemning antisemitism. She mentioned that that her cousins in the audience didn’t agree with her views, but without making them feel bad.
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The second half was based on audience questions. One question teased out a story about the AirBNB Miriam owns in Dover. Unbeknownst to Miriam, the AirBNB's roof had been used as a drop point in a cocaine smuggling operation! Another question referred to her as a "queer icon," which she appreciated but deflected by saying that one shouldn’t focus exclusively on icons from one background, but rather on holistically interesting people. The show ended on a slightly strange note, with Miriam performing a stage reading of a passage from Dickens. Overall, it’s her warmth, sincerity, humor, and willingness to tackle uncomfortable topics that I’ll remember.

In my own backyard in Carlton, the International Flower and Garden Show was in full bloom. Over the previous few weeks, I had witnessed the maze of white tents slowly taking over the Carlton Gardens. Despite all the anticipation, I honestly wasn’t sure what to expect. I figured if the event was going to close off my favorite running paths for a few weeks, I might as well check it out. I convinced my running mate Ben to join. The event was enormous, with an area inside the Royal Exhibition Building and outdoor displays that had that terraformed the park into an unrecognizable landscape.
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It was my first time inside the Royal Exhibition Building. After running dozens of laps around the outside, stepping through the entryway was a magical moment. The interior was spacious and grand, with lots of natural light, soft wooden floors, and decorative artwork. The color scheme of dark green and burgundy with gold highlights gave me nostalgia for an era I never witnessed. The segmented framework supporting the ceiling and the pattern of circular windowpanes were unique architectural details that jumped out. The hall was built in 1880 for the Melbourne International Exhibition, used as a temporary government house while Canberra was being constructed, and later named a UNESCO world heritage site. I appreciate that it’s still in continuous usage as an events center, a living piece of history.

​The indoor space included dazzling competition entries, like floral arrangements, table centerpieces, and enormous dioramas. There was a bedroom display made out of flowers, a fashion area with dresses made of native plants, and a particularly charming animatronic garden snail. The second floor had a gallery of plant-themed artwork and tables with hands-on crafting workshops in progress.

​The outdoor space was more vendor oriented, with lawn ornaments, hammocks, greenhouses, birdhouses, hot tubs, tulip bulbs, and lawnmowers for sale. Someone was dressed up as a giant jug of plant growth solution, advertising their brand. We stopped to look at the impressive selection of small potted houseplants. I’ve never seen so many cute succulents before! Ben picked one out to bring home. I particularly liked a spindly looking tree that looked like it was about to pull its roots out of the ground and go for a walk. There were also landscape architecture displays, which looked like slices of paradise that were infused into the park. Near the food trucks, a live jazz band was performing on a mini stage that, naturally, was also a garden arrangement. Meandering through the gardens in the background were performers on stilts dressed up as giant flowers or butterflies. With all these sights to take in, plus a lunch and coffee break in the middle, we ended up spending a few hours – much longer than we both expected. It was a worthwhile outing.

The final March event to highlight was the Grand Prix, the annual Formula One race that sees the peaceful Albert Park turned into a roaring circuit. The Netflix series “Drive to Survive” has caused a surge in F1 viewership, and a record crowd of 452,000 fans attended over the race weekend. Like seeing the Australian Open at Rod Laver Arena, it was a privilege to witness another international sporting event at an iconic Melbourne venue. I attended two out of the four days, on Thursday and Saturday.

On Thursday I managed to get in for free, as it was community day where local residents were given free entry – a tacit bribe for the noise pollution (I could hear engines all the way from Carlton). As luck would have it, I had a piece of mail with my name and one of the qualified postal codes, a relic from when I first arrived in Melbourne. I showed it at the window and received a free grounds pass. To my surprise, there was a chaotic sea of small children in matching shirts and bucket hats. School groups were also in attendance! It really did feel like a community day.
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The event grounds were ripe for exploration, from the Melbourne Walk where eager fans waited for driver autographs, to the numerous merchandise stores and food trucks. Artists were live-painting a mural, highlighting some of the Australian drivers like Oscar Piastri and Daniel Ricciardo. I quickly learned the locations of the footbridges that crossed from the outside of the racetrack to the inside, which tended to be congested despite having separate levels or lanes for each direction of traffic. There was a temporary floating bridge so that pedestrians could cross the middle of the lake. The bridge also offered great views of the resident waterfowl and city skyline. ​There was an innovation area with tech talks, military and university recruiters, and historical cars on display. Naturally, it all reminded me of the Michigan FSAE event and my time on Brown Formula Racing!

​Since it was the first day of the event and no actual F1 races were scheduled, the normally expensive grandstands were open to everyone. I had lunch from a grandstand overlooking Turn 9, and watched as the cars in the Porsche Carrera Cup went zooming by, cutting the corner as close as possible. I did see one car make contact, but the barrier wasn’t rigid and spun around. The Porsche Carrera Cup was one of several non-F1 races that I discovered at the event. These parallel competitions kept the track lively between the F1 rounds. Sometimes, a parade of classic cars took over the track, showcasing different vehicle styles. 

​Over the course of the afternoon, I hopped along the perimeter of the track, scoping out the different vantage points. There were several grassy hills with good views, useful knowledge for Saturday. 

Getting to and from the venue was a little tricky, even with some prior knowledge of the trams. Key areas in the CBD had signage about tram rerouting, which I misunderstood, and ended up taking a long bus ride instead of getting on the bullet tram going directly to the gates. And on the way back, the trams arriving at the station were already full of people from the previous stop. Still, with sore feet from a day on the grounds, waiting was better than walking.

On Saturday, I paid for a grounds pass, as the day’s agenda seemed worthwhile: F1 driver interviews, F2 and F3 races, F1 practice, and F1 qualifying. I missed the initial round of ticket sales but managed to snipe one on the secondhand market. In Victoria, ticket resales are capped at 10% of their face value so I got it for a decent price ($94 USD with ticket fees). It was also my first direct encounter with the dreaded Ticketmaster, but thankfully the frustration was minimal.
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The Saturday crowds were significantly larger than Thursday. I arrived in time to catch the interviews with the BWT Alpine team and the Mercedes Benz team, including the famous British driver Lewis Hamilton. The interviewers were more focused on bringing out the drivers’ personalities, asking them questions about their impressions of Australia and playing quiz games. The large crowd was lapping it up. Several cardboard cutouts of the drivers’ heads bobbed above the masses. Afterwards, the crowds took their place by the side of the track.

​The F2 and F3 races were just as fast and exciting as F1, with lesser known but up-and-coming drivers. During the F2 race, there were a few crashes, including one car that spun out within my view. When a crash happens, a safety car enters the course and drives in front of the pack. The safety car sets the pace and consolidates the active drivers, creating a window for track cleanup. However, the laps behind the safety car still count, so the crashes take away from the actual race and make it less exciting.

​The F1 practice sessions were a good preview of the cars and teams. But it was the F1 qualifier that gave the first taste of real stakes, as the fastest cars earned a better pole position for the Grand Prix race. The qualifier had several rounds, with the slowest cars eliminated each round. As a result, I got to see the best teams like Red Bull, McLaren, and Ferrari each complete a dozen or so laps. The F1 engines were quieter than some of the previous racing categories, but I still wore earplugs around the venue. It was a lucky coincidence I already had a stockpile of earplugs, intended for noisy hostels but just as good on the racetrack.

On Sunday, I watched the big race on my TV. There were so many details I now appreciated, having walked the course. I could pinpoint the cars’ location based on the advertisements in the background, and when they showed aerial tracking shots, I knew how fast the helicopters were flying to keep up. It was a disappointing race for the dominant Max Verstappen, who dropped out early due to a mechanical issue, ending his winning streak. I was rooting for Oscar Piastri, the young Australian driver on McLaren, who was in 3rd place in the first half. No Aussie driver has made it onto the podium in Melbourne, and it seemed like Piastri had a good chance of breaking the curse. Alas, his teammate Lando Norris was having a better race and Piastri was instructed to let him pass. Norris took 3rd for McLaren, while Ferrari took 1st and 2nd. The winning driver, Carlos Sainz, recently had his appendix removed – and joked the extra weight loss was the secret to his win.
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Attending the Grand Prix was super special, and my first time at an F1 event. However, it’s not the best spectator sport, as you can only see one segment of the race. There were speakers with radio broadcasts at regular intervals around the track, and video screens in select locations, so it was possible to follow the narrative of the race. But I felt much more connected to the story when I could see it all unfold on TV. The combination of traditional cameras on cranes, helicopter footage, and onboard driver/car footage is just so much more compelling than a flash of red or orange. That said, the visceral thrill of the engines roaring and the smell of burning tires and gas could only be appreciated from the track.