"We're going to sleep on the St Kilda sands"

presh

It's weekends like this that make me never want to leave Melbourne. Saturday I went to Chadstone with Davis Street Massive + 'Berra guest (post to follow) and, after many other fun things which I will not explore in this space (begging a jazz band to play anything by George Clinton, a mojito, an entertaining tram ride, etc), we ended the night with mixed dips at Stalactites at 2 am:

awwwwwww yeaaaahhhh

It is not the consumerism and drunken munchies that makes me appreciate Melbs so much, however. It's mostly the afternoons and evenings on Saturdays an Sundays that make me realise how easy it would be to carve out a life here. To explain, on Sunday, we (Chadstone crowd plus The [non-British Columbian] Canadian) started off the day at another brunch establishment I've been meaning to try, all thanks to The Breakfast Blog (all thanks to my morning breakfast --literally-- Go Fug Yourself via the Bloggies Awards). Anywho, we finally went to Replete Providore (!!!), where we tried to go on Easter, and it was AMAZING. A bit of a trek out to Hawthorn, but the corn fritters and pancakes with berries were worth the sojourn. I even had a flat white to get into the Melburnian lazy Sunday spirit. Have I told my American readers about the institution that is a flat white? They don't have drip brewing coffee here; those lines of kettles all lined up in WaWa are but a distant memory to me, *sigh*. They only do it fancy style from an espresso machine (even in Starbucks, ask Housie), and a flat white is the default drink you receive if you simply say 'I'd like a coffee.' According to Mama K and Papa T, flat whites are mighty milky, as coffees go. Who knows? But it can be delicious when you're feeling slightly Parisian and not normally a caffeine-hound:

After a lemon slice to go (shortbread bottom, SHYEAAAHH!!), I bid my brunch companions adieu to board the 16 to St Kilda to meet former Housie, Liv. It takes about 45 minutes to go half way down this tram's route, so it's obviously a winding and long journey. I went through Toorak (cue obnoxious high school girls with side ponytails, Bettina Liano jeans, and conversations about having a party and being 'found out' by mom who installed cameras in the basement [as one does when one is a mother in Toorak]), Caulfield, Balaclava, and other suburbs until somehow, I ended up on Acland St, St Kilda.

I believe I was going past Caulfield Park when a rush of 'I Love Melbourne' came over me. A man was selling flowers out of an old-fashioned I love Lucy silver campervan; bunches of colour sat in pots in front of his truck, and he read The Age while he waited for customers. A hundred metres down, a father and son played footy while their dog was tied up to a flagpole looking like he wanted in on the action. A group of teenagers waited on a bench to board the tram. I half expected Paul Kelly to burst into song to complete my perfect Melbourne moment.

So I end up in Acland Street to wait for Liv to arrive and decide to sit on the bench beside Luna Park:

We then went up to the arts market (oh man when I get my paycheck I'm so buying that giant earring/necklace holder) and then went down to the water:

Livvy Livvy Livvy Livvy rockin everywhere

Whilst on our little walk along the water, we witnessed, quite possibly, no, definitely, one of the top 5 most adorable things I've ever seen in my life (perhaps behind puppies tilting their heads when you scold them and babies sneezing). If you can't see from the first photo in this post, a 20-something dude was strolling, arm-in-arm, with his 80-something grandmother. Here's a close-up:

good on ya, mate.

And as Liv pointed out, he wasn't 'doin it for the glory,' for some random American girl to snap a photo and post it on the internet. He just seemed to walk along, not noticing anyone else, helping his Nan. Beautiful.

We then made our way to the Vineyard, a staple pub in Melbourne because of its location. The Community Cup had just finished, so it was, as they say, 'going off!' I went to the Cup last year, but this year it kind of snuck up on me and I didn't make it. We shared 3 Coopers Pale longnecks and shot the proverbial breeze for 3 hours. Thank God for heat lamps. Glooooorious.

We then made our way up Inkerman St to Harro's (across from the infamous establishment at which we spent Halloween) to indulge in what we were told is 'the best pizza in Melbourne.' I might have to agree. A red wine, chock-a-block pizza, and Liv's company? Alriiiiight on a Sunday night... I love Melbourne : )