A friend in Australia recently asked me what I liked most and least about Australia. I thought you might want to know too…

I must say that the thing I liked best about Australia is the egalitarianism. I never felt the presence of a social hierarchy: neither gloating executives nor ashamed labourers. This goes hand in hand with the idea of “mateship” I suppose. In the US, depending upon region of course, it is uncommon to hold a casual conversation with a stranger. Even if you do, you would go through an unwritten formality of “warming up” to them by asking expected questions, etc. In Australia, I could walk right up to a stranger, yap my head off about personal issues, and meet them later for a beer. In general, I feel like Australians (in Queensland at least) were much more approachable and empathetic than Americans.

In a similar sense, I like how Australians seem to have more respect for Australia than Americans have for America (in a non-political way). Again, this must vary by region, but some examples are the lack of graffiti and public defacement in Australia, the cleanliness of and respect shown toward public transportation, and even the condition of public toilets. Here’s a curious aside: nearly every public toilet in the US has a paper seat-cover dispenser. Americans are very concerned with sanitation (to a fault, in many cases). I never found such paper seat-covers in Australia. I believe this is not due to a lack of concern for sanitation, but because paper seat-covers are not needed when everyone respects the cleanliness of public toilets in the first place.

Of course, the natural wildlife of Australia was one of my favorite aspects. I love the outdoors and a good adventure. Camping on Moreton Island was fantastic; the kangaroos and lush meadows of the Mornington Peninsula were breathtaking; the Great Barrier Reef was incredible and done no justice by any photographs. The lighthouse and cliffs at Byron Bay were also memorable; it was fun standing on the most easterly point of the Australia main land, envisioning Chile just across the pond.

There are a handfull of small things that I like about Australia, such as how every bill is a different size and color, and how every electrical outlet has a switch on it.

Now, for the bad…..

I do not have many gripes about Australia. Those that I do have are mainly cultural differences, or due to the difference in our technological or economical developments. For example, nothing in Australia was unlimited: mobile phone minutes, internet data, even Coke at restaurants. In the US is is very common to pay a flat rate for unlimited services, such as $20 per month for an unlimited internet connection in your home, and free refills of bevereges in restaurants. Perhaps this is me being a glutenous American, but it sure is inconvenient having to pay extra for what you’ve been accustomed to getting for free.

I also missed delis. Americans are big fans of the sandwich. In the US, every small town and city block has a “mom and pop” deli. In Australia I only found the occasional Subway or Quiznos. On the other hand, gyro shops are all over the place in Australia and much less common in the US. Gyros are something I miss dearly about Australia (and probably the most notable aspect of Australian cuisine).

I have mixed feelings about the fashion in Australia. Mohawks, mullets, and spandex went out with the 1980′s and should never return. Then again, what do I know about fashion… I’m just an engineer.

I awoke this morning, got dressed and wandered down the main drag or St. Kilda. I found a nice inexpensive cafe and had a sandwich and coffee. Then I cruised down to an internet place and caught up on some email and such for an hour. I took another good hour digging up Arcadia staff phone numbers, trying to arrange my rendezvous with the orientation group tomorrow. I could just go to the airport and meet the group flight there, but it’s a good 45 minutes outside of Melbourne and I don’t fancy going back and forth twice.

Having grown accustomed to the freedom and spontaneity of the backpacker habits, I loathed the idea of living a week by tour bus and head counts. Oh well. I’m sure Arcadia has fabulous activities planned for us.

I didn’t do much else all day; it was pretty dreary outside again. I did some laundry, caught up on these journals, and started researching digital cameras (looking at the Canon Powershot SD500). I wanted to watch the Wimbledon semi-finals but all the sports bars were showing cricket.

Bob parked his van in front of the hostel and we all sat in it for a while, brainstorming his upgrade options. The more popular ideas were a solar heated water supply piped to a shower head on the back. There would be a drop-down shower curtain that would serve as privacy for both his shower and the toilet seat bolted to the bumper. Of course, disco balls and Chinese lanterns were also discussed.

I woke up early today, got my stuff together, checked out, and took a train to the airport. My flight was delayed an hour due to fog in Melbourne. This was a good thing, as I was delayed at a security check point. After x-raying my backpack, the security officer said, “Is this your bag?”

“Yes, sir,” I replied.

“Please remove the scissors,” he said.

Scissors? I don’t have any scissors, what is he talking about? “Ahh, I didn’t know I had any scis…”

“Remove the scissors or check this bag,” he sternly interrupted.

I was racking my brain about what I had in there that might look like scissors in the x-ray machine. I almost asked him which part of the backpack the scissors were in, but he looked like a rugby player with a stubbed toe and might take it as a bad joke.

Just as I started opening the backpack it dawned on me: first aid kit! I handed him my surgical scissors that have one tip rounded so as not to snag any tissue under the skin. He slowly examined them for a good twenty seconds before proclaiming that he needed to keep them. “Go for it you friggin bruit,” I thought to myself, “I don’t plan on performing surgery any time soon anyway.”

Eventually I arrived in Melbourne and was delighted that it was a domestic flight; no customs, no interrogation, no lines! I sat down with my Lonely Planet book and had another “Now what?”

I decided to stay at the Coffee Palace in St. Kilda. I rang them up, confirmed a bed, and hopped a shuttle to town. I booked two nights, as the rest of my time in Melbourne is organized by the Arcadia orientation staff. The Coffee Palace is a very nice place. The guy talked me into upgrading to a nicer room with a private bathroom; the extra $2 per night was a hard sell (I’m stuck in that backpacker mentality), but I went for it.

Speaking of frugality and the backpacker mentality, I have lost ten pounds since being here. The miles of walking are great for the legs. The food budget can help you or hurt you; in Italy last summer I opted for beer, pizza, and gelato. This time I’m eating well and feeling healthier than when I left.

The Coffee Palace has a lovely rooftop terrace. I went exploring and found five people socializing up on the roof. Again, a wonderful diverse group: a French girl, a Canadian Jew, an English punk rocker, an Alaskan guy, and an Irish redneck named Ross who turned out to be my room mate.

We all sat around chatting for a while before it got too cold to stay outside. Melbourne is on the southern tip of contiguous Australia and is thus the coldest in the winter (recall that I’m in the southern hemisphere).

Lucile (the French girl) and Irish Ross were going out to buy cigarettes, so I tagged along to see the town and socialize a bit. We ended up at an amazing little restaurant that had a room off to the side with couches, very avant guarde paintings, a chandelier and vines on the ceiling. It was very much like something a San Diegan would find in Hillcrest, or a San Franciscan would find on H&A.

In fact, Melbourne seems to be very much like San Francisco: foggy, large, liberal, a center of commerce, with street cars everywhere. A very cool city, I would like to return when it warms up a bit.

Back in the hostel Lucile made pasta for Ross and I (it’s weird typing that). Ahh, another French chef. Later we headed back to the roof of the Coffee Palace and passed a guitar around. Someone asked “Hey Ross, do you play?” I picked up an ashtray, dumped it out, and hacked out some Robert Johnson with it. If you want to make quick friends in a hostel, play guitar with an ashtray. A shot glass or beer bottle will also suffice. And make sure you play blues: it’s a refreshing change from Sublime and Ani DiFranco. Then Lucile started playing a song in French and stole my thunder.

Soon thereafter Bob (the Canadian Jew) burst up to the roof, excited about the camper van he just bought for $2900, so we went down to check it out. We ended up sitting in it for an hour watching the pimp and prostitutes on our corner. Again, this is St. Kilda, and should not reflect Melbourne as a whole.

Eventually we headed out on the town. We went to Espy’s, one of the famous old time bars of Australia (like the Slimms of Melbourne). A couple mediocre bands played, which was good fun anyway. At 1:00 AM they kicked everyone out and we headed somewhere else. I didn’t stay long, as I had been up all day traveling. Ross rolled in around 5:00 AM, and I was even more glad to already be asleep.