“Is a schooner just a way of selling you a beer for the same price as a pint, but with less liquid?” I wonder as I sip an ice-cold lager, my feet and half my legs submerged in the little pool at AFLOAT, which has become Club Lacoste for the Australian Open.
We were at the tennis ourselves yesterday, at Rod Laver Arena. Alcaraz. Sabalenka. Schooners. Free sun cream and a surprisingly agreeable plate of chicken and chips between matches.
A really hot, sticky day, followed by a cool evening. We took the tram back into town. It sounded as if it was ready to be scrapped, but we made it back in one piece.
Today, back at Club Lacoste, we work as a team to deflate one of the branded beach balls. Compensation for the missing beer.
There’s a different vibe to Melbourne than Brisbane and Sydney. Less polished, especially in Fitzroy, close to where we’re staying. Reminiscent of Williamsburg or wherever is the latest in-neighbourhood in east London nowadays.
Zero bin chickens.
A visit to Queen Victoria Market one morning is a highlight. Perhaps the best I’ve ever visited in terms of variety, scale and quality of produce. I feel as if I could walk around for a month and not be bored.
On our final full day, it’s super hot. Reaching 45 degrees. We get an ice cream from the fantastic L’Arte Della Gelato. We’d visited a couple of days earlier and I’d eaten my cherry gelato in record time. Now I have an excuse: “Before it melts.”
We leave Melbourne the following morning and it’s overcast and chilly. Almost 30 degrees cooler than the previous afternoon. There’s a smell of smoke in the air that lingers until our taxi reaches Tullamarine. It’s only then we realise it’s smoke from bushfires in the hinterlands of Victoria. The dry, almost Mediterranean landscape we saw as we flew in just a few days before.
