Third impressions

The plan was St Kilda.  Beach, maybe some thunder, investigate a little bit more of the lay of the land.  Catching the tram from the corner of Spencer and Flinders Streets, we snaked our way outward from the CBD and toward the coast.  The suburbs quickly yielded an array of delightfully gothic-y cottages and terraces, and the vista broadened as the edge of the sea drew near.  We disembarked and wandered down to the beach, then along to the pier.  The sky was leaden and angry-looking, and the sea on the exposed side washed against the breakwater with a sort of wet hungriness, blown by a warm but insistent wind.  Blue fairy penguins could be seen huddled in their refuges amongst the rocks, and large drops of rain started to fall scattering the gathered tourists.  Dark clouds huddled in the distance, obscuring the tops of the skyscrapers in the city centre, a strange orange glow in the sky beyond suggesting a storm might break at any minute.  We continued on, eating gelato, crossing the road and looking through the closed gates of Luna Park, deciding to come back one night before the summer ended to enjoy its promised delights.

Catching the tram back in the opposite direction we traversed the city and emerged on the far side to amble through a cross-section of Fitzroy, quickly discovering that vast amounts of money would slip through our fingers if we entered any one of the bohemian stores that lined the main street.  We made a course for the city, idly discussing our ideal living situation based on the houses we passed by.  At the edge of the city we penetrated the darkness of St Patrick’s Cathedral, before finally making our way through the streets and back to our hostel.

Boredom set in leading to updated CVs, and a tentative plan for a new place to stay after Thursday.  I read my book, Caroline looked for jobs, worried about the money running out.

After night fell we made our way to the roof with a pot of lavender earl grey, where we sat looking at the city lights and listening to a pair of young Germans who drank goon and talked quietly in their mother tongue, the light rain that fell no deterrent to our idyll.



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