Unfinished Melbourne: Day 2

Soundtrack: “Under the Clocks”, Weddings Parties Anything

I bounced out of bed carried on the wings of angels, full of vim and vigour and carpe diem.

Or not, as reality may be. At some point, after too little sleep, I texted AJ and suggested that due to my intake last night, pushing back our brunch catch-up to after 11am might be wise. The next several hours were a mix of trying to sleep, trying to consume any non-alcoholic liquid I could locate, sitting under the shower, all underpinned by a horrific thought that I’d misplaced my tracking bracelet/smart watch at some point as It wasn’t on my arm and I couldn’t remember taking it off before the first shower.

After responding to AJ’s query if I was still alive, I showered one last time, found my watch in a pocket of my carry satchel, and slowly and steadily put one foot in front of the other, onto a tram, and eventually to the Prahan market. (I didn’t lose my watch but I did forget to pack a comb.) I can’t say I was much above 50% functional throughout the catchup, but it was good anyway. The Prahan market has certainly gone upscale in the 25 years since the last time I was there, and is full of fine produce and interesting food options. I definitely wasn’t going near the mussel van, but an open wagyu rueben-style sandwich with bonus pickle tasted okay: with the aid of a ginger soda it went down and stayed down. In a previous time AJ was a chef, though now only has a wife and daughter to cook for. Among the wonderful items were some miniature cauliflower heads, about the size of a fist, which went into the basket along with other ingredients. Strolling among the produce I was glad the fish section wasn’t particularly aromatic.

After parting ways, AJ heading home with his haul to do wonderful things with, I took a stroll down Chapel Street for the first time in years. Many shops have changed, but some remain, including Borsch, Vodka and Tears, the wonderful Polish restaurant I really need to dine at again (maybe the next unfinished expedition).

A tram took me back to the CBD where I had a mission to score some chocolate to bring to dinner (as well as some cheese I picked up yesterday). Of course I went to Haigh’s, and i think the sugar from the chocolate samples helped my head a little. Chocolate procured, I headed back to the hotel, procrastinating along the way on eating something. My body needed more liquid and sustenance, but the decision-making parts were still deeply, deeply, hungover. I settled for a little Malay place next to the hotel: literally the last available option. The menu promised some wonderful fried noodles but when my brain came to order, it went for the kaya toast set, possibly swayed by the eggs (which apparently are good for hangovers, helping the body with the formaldehyde that comes out of the alcohol processing). It was a bit of a wait, they don’t really do great service, which had me hoping that the food would be amazing. Certainly some of the dishes other customers were getting looked pretty good. My kaya toast was okay, buttery and kaya tasting. There’s no bread grilled over coals here, just a regular toaster. I remembered to add the pepper and soy sauce to the eggs, which were eggy. The kopi was strong and sweet; overall it was like one of those meals you eat in computer games that might heal you an extra 5%, I certainly wasn’t at full capacity but I was likely to live.

After a nap I headed out for the traditional dinner with A and T and their children M and P. They live about a 50 minute train-ride from the CBD, and I’d foolishly suggested getting there around 5.30pm, so it wasn’t a long nap. They have a new addition, Obi the Belgian griffon, a tiny furry ball of energy with puppy teeth, the head of a bat, and a prancing movement that is the cutest thing ever. I was mobbed on arrival, first by Obi, then by M as we have a tradition of playing an ipod game together called Fruit Ninja, which seems to involve waving fingers around the screen slicing fruit while avoiding bombs. M gives me hope for the future, watching her navigate and dismiss the various prompts for in-game purchases without a second thought was a joy to see. P is totally precocious and full on into dinosaurs — I mean the whole mob are really, I mentioned some new ones being discovered in Thailand and questions came thick and fast, what where they called, how old, which era (then out came a printed sheet kept close at hand of all the eras and sub eras: so for those playing at home 150ish million years ago is late Jurassic transitioning into Cretaceous). For my second home-cooked meal in a row it was chicken schnitzel, a delicious potato salad full of bacon, plus some salad so I should be fine at avoiding scurvy for a while. Then it was home made honeycomb with icecream, cheese, and chocolate, followed by T metaphorically twisting my arm to have a whisky (Powers, an Irish drop also distilled at Midleton). Obi rushed from person to person, before running out of steam and flopping onto his bed on the couch. Meanwhile we talked life and travel and all sorts of things, including dinosaurs, and fish. They have several fishtanks around the house, and appear to be in the process of perfecting the micro-ecosystems such that the glass tanks will rarely if ever need to be manually cleaned, through the inclusion of tiny shrimp, vegetation, and other magic. There are no castle ruins or diver figures in these tanks, no yellow submarines.

Roo soon it was time to say goodbye to these fine people, and I took a rideshare back to the hotel. I wasn’t particularly hungry post my wonderful dinner, but wanted to check again a Philly cheese steak inspired place across the road. I went for the Rocky Balboa, steak and mushrooms and other things, which was decent (though the ends of the bread get a little dry). Gooey cheesy meaty goodness, I’ve never been to Philadelphia to try a proper one (one day hopefully) but f they are even better than this I’ll be eating more than a few.

Tomorrow the plan is to eat lots and shop, before catching up with more pals for dinner.