Look, Mom! No R's!

When I first came to Australia, I vowed never to say the word “Melbun”. My American counterparts had already been converted. I’d sit at my desk and listen as they’d throw out a string of words about this or that – with a perfect American accent – and then the word “Melbun” would pop out. Sounding odd. Just odd. Completely and totally out of place.

I thought to myself, why would I (as an American) say one word – just one word – with an Australian accent?

Melbun.

I can say Melbourne without too much emphasis. You know, like Mel-burn. Not Mel-born. It won't be terribly conspicuous.

But Mel-BUN? Do I really have to say Mel-BUN? Really, people? Really?

It bothered me. It was something I thought about. When I heard Americans say it, I wanted them to take it back. Quickly.

It didn't sound pretentious. It just sounded incorrect. People in Australia don’t pronounce it Mel-BUN because that’s how it's supposed to be pronounced. They pronounce it that way because they don’t pronounce R’s. And we – in America – pronounce R’s. We just do. Like it or not.

“Melboune” – see no R.

I debated myself.

“But Stephanie – in Boston, you went along with the absurd pronunciation of Worcester as “Wooster,” didn’t you?”

“Yes, yes, but that’s not the same and you know it. That wasn’t a matter of accents. They just pronounced Worcester as Wooster to confuse people.”

“True.”

“I mean, you didn’t go around saying, “Hahvahd” all day long, did you?

“No. No, I did not.”

“Exactly.”

So heading to Melbourne for the first time, I was adamant to use the word as it was intended. With an “R” for those who acknowledge them and without an “R” for those who don’t.

But - while I was there - it grew on me. Melbun. Yeah, you heard right. I got into the spirit of it, shall we say. And I walked around for three days saying, “I love Melbun.” Trying it out.

Melbun. Melbun. Melbun.

So now I’m also not pretentious/just incorrect. But I don’t mind. I like Melbun. And Melbun likes me. How do I know? It was kind enough to offer me three perfect pairs of shoes. One high-heeled pair of boots. One smokin’ hot pair of black pumps. And one Kelly green pair of clogs.

Oh, Melbun. How I love thee. Let me count the ways:

One.

Two.

Three.

So here's my little homage to Melboune. The things I liked. The things that swayed my vote from Sydney to Melboune. Like LA to its San Francisco. Or the East coast to its West. Every city needs a rival. And I love Melboune. I might live in Sydney - and love my little life here to pieces. But I prefer Melboune. The beaches don't sway me. The weather doesn't sway me. The art & the randomness and the little tiny bit of grit. They sway me.

Old & new

I love old & new together. I like to dress with a little old & new. Something vintage. Something new. Decorate my house with a little old & new. Little flea market. Little Pottery Barn (for shame). I appreciate the contrast. In Melboune, there are old churches layered on glass buildings. Overlapping - saying something both elegant & awkward. I love that.

The art.

Alright, the graffiti. Graffiti isn't "supposed" to be art. But in Melboune, it's curated. It's commissioned. And it's just plain cool. I can't say enough about it. The artists also like a good redhead. Which I approve of.

The artist market

Gosh, oh gosh. I love the Rose Street Artists' Market. How can I not? This market had some good stuff. But more than that, it was a very photogenic market. The weather was superb. The people were in full 'eclectic'. It reminded me of a little market you'd encounter in New York. The people reminded me of someone you'd run into on Abbot Kinney in Venice. I like these people. These are my people.

The little cafes

French ones. We found a cute little cafe and I had a Toastinette. It was fab. Goat cheese. Thinly sliced ham. Tomatoes. On sourdough. Rosalie had a dark hot chocolate that I went back for on Monday after she left. Traipsing back to Fitzroy just for a hot chocolate. The owner of this little French cafe was an adorable Frenchman. He greeted you, "Bonjour hello." And when someone asked him, "How long have you been in Australia?" - he replied - "Seven years, MATE" with emphasis, leaving me giggling.

Randomness

I love randomness. I just can't get enough. I love to be surprised by something weird & wonderful. It makes my heart sing. And Melbourne is full of the weird & wonderful.

That's right. Keep movin'.

Food

Oh, are we back to food? Oh, well - the food was uh-mazing. Australia just has good food in general. Rosalie did a little research while I napped and found Cumulus. We traipsed over for brunch (I love to traipse). Turkish eggs in a cast iron skillet. Lemon infused Madeleines. To. die.

Snags

OK, that's just Australian for sausages. With sauerkraut (I just learned to spell a new word). So we're still on food. Rosalie was finishing up a purchase and I wandered into the street to find our next conquest. A vintage store. An art gallery. A coffee shop. And there it was - an expansive beer hall. A Melbournite version. Complete with comfy chairs dragged from your grandma's shed, freshly brewed beers on tap and a little bald man making you pork & fennel snags at the door. We sank into our chairs. And sank our teeth into those snags.

Little earthquakes, er, cupcakes

Yep. Still on food. Are you seeing a theme here? Thank God for the walking. We found Little Cupcakes in one of the little laneways. Right beside Smitten Kitten and Cut Throat Shaves. They had some rad ass cupcakes. And we tried quite a few. They tasted even better than they looked.

The carrot cake was still the best. Hands. down.

Cute streets & shops

So this is how I walked off the food. Getting my exercise going hither and thither. Poking my head in the doors. Looking at the window dressings. Saying hello to the shop keepers. Asking for advice. Where else should I go? Where do YOU shop?

And that's it. 3 days in Melboune consisting of good friends, good art, good finds & good food. My favorite things. I even got a little feather headband. OK, OK. I got three. But they're for the races. I'm vowing to go to at least one horse race this year. And when I do, I'll have a costume change or two.

Feathered hair + feathered horses

Ah, Melbun. I miss you already.