It was only after coming Melbourne a second time that I realized how crappy it was.



An abandoned asbestos factory? No! It's my hostel.



Ducks for sale at the Victorian Markets across the street.



Drunk at the Roo Bar.
(photo by Natalie)



Here's a picture that Amanda, one of the artsy friends I made my first night at the hostel, drew of me.



My ticket to go to the top of the Rialto Towers.



From the top, here's the old Victoria Docks site that is currently being redeveloped. Pretty ugly. That round thing is the Docklands (Colonial Stadium), where they play footy.

From: Jeff Nyveen To: my friends and family Date: Friday, September 15, 2000 1:17pm Subject: Backpacking Once Again At the moment, I find myself at the observation deck of the Rialto Tower in the center of Melbourne, 253 meters above the ground. Buildings, roads, and railroads blend into each other to create a dirty, post-industrial blanket of gray concrete and rusted iron, while the muddy brown water of the Yarra River seems motionless and dead. A rainstorm is making its way across the city from the south. The rest of my trip along the northwest coast was great. Broome was a nice little town to stop and rest in for a few days. In Broome, I went to see Gladiator at Sun Pictures, the oldest cinema in Australia. Thought it would be fitting, somehow. I got so wrapped up by the huge screen and excellent sound system that I almost popped a turd when two Qantas jets screamed overhead about halfway through the movie. The rest of the time, I explored the town by bus, and even got a lift across town from Trevor and Kathy, an Australian couple vacationing in Broome for a week (Aussies are so nice). After catching a sunset at Cable Beach and sleeping under the stars at the caravan park, we packed up our tents and left Broome to begin the second half of our tour. We left our bus behind and got onto our "Oka," a monstrous 4-wheel-drive, a must for the bumpy dirt roads in the Kimberley. We saw more gorges, swam in more waterholes, and inhaled more red dust. The flies were horrible. At least twice, we camped next to saltwater croc-infested rivers. But it was the mossies, spiders, and ants which were much more dangerous than the crocs. Each morning, I'd wake up with bites all over my arms and legs. I counted 40+ at one point. We stopped at Eighty Mile Beach, where I soaked my feet in the Indian Ocean for the last time. We also visited El Questro, a tropical resort in the middle of nowhere with finely manicured lawns of green grass, thermal springs, and a cliffside homestead available for $850 a night. Another one of our stops was Kununurra, a beautiful and rather large town that, like Surfer's Paradise, strangely doesn't show up on any maps of Australia. The highlight of the trip was the Bungle Bungles, a range of layered domes which have been formed by years of creative erosion. I took a helicopter ride, my first, over the ranges and it was quite amazing to see. Not many people get out to the Bungle Bungles, so most of it is still untouched by commercial tourism and left in its natural state. The food continued to be good, even though it was covered with red dirt most of the time. Chris cooked everything from pasta to beef to chocolate birthday cake (for Bruce's 74th) on the campfire. But he never seemed to make enough. I got the feeling that, by the end of the trip, everyone started to despise me because I ate so much. We arrived in Darwin tired and dirty. A shower and a change of clothes felt great, but I still had a problem. While not terribly thick, I noticed that my goatee had gotten quite long and bushy. Two different people on the bus had told me that my goatee looked like pubes, so I decided to do away with the wannabe moustache and trim the chin a bit. I felt like a new man. I had been in Darwin before, but this time it was with a new group of friends, so it was a different experience. We went out to the pub together the first night. To my horror, the place was FILLED with Americans. Four US Navy boats had dumped 8000 young, annoying, horny American men into Darwin. The guy to girl ratio was easily 10:1. Rather than using my distinct American accent as a potential ice-breaker with the locals as I usually did, I was simply just another American. It was horrible. But I just stuck with my tour friends, and by the end of the night, I was talking to Franziska, a Swiss-German girl. She didn't speak much English, so she just taught me some bad words in German while I taught her bad words in English. After discovering that she knew French, we managed to have a decent conversation. I was only in Darwin for two nights before flying in Melbourne. Tired but feeling social, I went down to the hostel pub downstairs. Two girls were sitting next to each other on a nearby couch. I could tell they were artsy. Bad skin, short hair, second-hand clothes. One of the girls approached me and asked if she could draw a picture of me. While sketching, she told me that she was in Melbourne to protest a conference of world economic leaders called "S11," uncreatively named after the date on which it occurred (September 11). While she drew me, I let her blabber on for a while about moral economics and free will. I had nothing to say, so it wasn't hard for me to sit still. The sketch turned out pretty good. It was the sort of drawing I'd pay $15 for at a charity carnival. I don't like this city. During the day, Melbourne turns into a mass of people walking nowhere, with no outdoor cafes or scenic resting points. At night, it turns into a ghost town. All of the night spots are apparently tucked away in alleys and hard to find, too much work for a backpacker. I did, however, find the Crown Casino last night. A HUGE place, rivaling the biggest Vegas casinos, with restaurants, night clubs, and sports bars. But overall, many of Australia's tiny towns in the middle of nowhere were more exciting. One of the things I hate about Melbourne is its constant celebration of multiculturalism and diversity. The city seems to take pride in the fact that it's made up of so many different ethnicities. But multiculturalism and diversity, it seems to me, have replaced the true, Anglocentric, Australian identity that this city once really did have. All that multiculuralism and diversity have done is strip Melbourne of its character. Now, rather than having an identity of its own, it seems more like an amalgamation of identities. It's just like any other big city. This is starting to sound like a KKK propaganda, so I'll stop now. The rainstorm has passed, and the sun is desperately trying to poke its way through the clouds and before it sets. Pictures coming soon. No Regrets. Jeff

Me on the Yarra River.



Flinders St. Station.



A billboard with a very hot girl on it.



Pokies are the Australian name for poker machines.



They were awesome.



Here's me and Michelle in the Crown Casino. After I told her I was from Texas, she wanted to marry me.

From: Jeff Nyveen To: my friends and family Date: Monday, September 18, 2000 3:41pm Subject: Bye Bye Melbourne Here at the hostel, they put me in a room with six girls. By the time I woke up the next morning, two had left, and another two were gone by the end of the day. The next morning, I was all alone. This is the effect I typically have on women. A few night ago, I stayed in to watch the Olympics Opening Ceremony. Live. Not tape-delayed like the rest of you. When the international audience joined our local coverage, our Australian TV host proudly announced, "3.7 million people have just joined us. That's more than 3 billion." Moron. The ceremony was long and drawn-out, but it was nice to see familiar Aussies like John Farnham, Olivia Newton-John, Vanessa Amorosi (what a voice!), and Tina Arena (if you looked closely, you could see her nipples) performing and then Aboriginal runner Cathy Freeman lighting the Olympic torch at the end. Had any of you heard of Freeman before this week? Over the last few days, I've been exploring Melbourne a bit. My stroll along the Yarra River was nice, although I'm not sure what they were going for with all of the psychedelic, electronic beeping noises along the river. I also visited the nearby and foul-smelling Victorian Markets, where you can get fresh fruit, 100% leather belts, fake watches, cheap souvenir T-shirts, or live ducks. All for under $10. I've gone to the Crown casino a few more times. Seems like one of the only places in Melbourne to socialize. Met a few people from Sydney who have graciously offered to show me around when I get there. Last night, I took the rickety #8 tram down to Chapel Street. Lots of shops, a few bars and cafes, but no people. Unfortunately, most of Melbourne's social spots are far outside the city center. How inconvenient. I have to admit that it's been a joy watching Aussie swimmer Ian Thorpe win gold medals and set world records. It's also been a joy seeing Aussies glued to TVs around the city, screaming "Ozzie, Ozzie, Ozzie!" in unison whenever one of their athletes appears on-screen. Tomorrow, I leave for Sydney. I'll be arriving on September 22, my 24th birthday. Thanks to the Olympics, I will pay outrageously jacked-up prices for a hostel bed. I'll be meeting up with college buddy and former roommate Liam for some Olympic baseball. A reunion of sorts. Sydney will be my final stop in Australia. I'll be there about a week. No Regrets. Jeff

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