March Events Roundup

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.

The food and drinks at Claypots were also excellent. Gail and I shared a few plates including sauteed veggies, stingray pinxto, a baked barramundi fillet, and red wine soaked potatoes. I had a rum and molasses cocktail with the meal, and a little port for dessert. It was so thoughtful of Gail to follow up and make sure I got to enjoy the performance that we had talked about so much. Between the seafood, the company, and the music, it was one of the most memorable meals I had in Melbourne!

​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 choreography was a major highlight, with the game scenes represented through a visually compelling warrior-dance that connected the motions of modern footy to its indigenous roots. As the play explained, Aboriginal tribes in the Grampians region of Victoria played a game called Marn Grook using a ball made from possum skins. The game was of arbitrary length but always ended with burying the ball in the ground, a symbolic recognition of the land.

​The best moment of the play was the ending, where Jayma has to decide whether he’s going to win the game or throw the game, knowing that the team’s management doesn’t have his back and is only letting him play out of greed and self-interest. As he takes the final shot, he hears the cawing of a currawong, refocusing the audience’s attention on the set’s backdrop: the painted silhouette of a currawong made with overlapping handprints. It was a clever visual symbol to have hovering in the background the whole show, and a brilliant usage of a sound cue to redirect focus from the heat of the moment to this higher symbolic level. To me, it signified Jayma remembering the roots of the game – a community tradition, connected to nature, free from ego and ambition – and realizing that one single game was insignificant in his culture's view. The play ended with Jayma and Sonny burying the ball in the ground, leaving the footy unfinished but completing the game of Marn Grook. Now, every time I hear the cawing of a currawong, I think of this theatrical moment and get chills all over again.

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.