Day 2 - Morning

I found myself very awake the next morning at 6:00. Unsure of why I was up so early I attempted to get more sleep - Surely I needed it after the previous days events. No luck. The time-change was likely messing up my sleep patterns. I showered, ate and headed off with Gail to the tram which we would take downtown. Gail was off to meet clients, I was off to explore.

Like anything new, the entire tram experience confused me. Gail explained that people bought passes which were good for varying lengths of time during the day. When you boarded the tram (the passes were also good for the buses as well if you wanted to transfer over) you had to slip your pass into a machine which time-stamped it. Gail had been nice enough to buy me a few passes – some were good for an entire day, some for only two hours. I used one of my full-day passes and the machine printed an expiry date on it. I wasn’t sure how they enforced using the passes. The drivers had nothing to do with taking fares – you could enter from any of the three doors on the tram and just sit down, something many people were doing. It appeared you were also able to buy tickets once on-board. Having a ticket ready before you boarded clearly wasn't required. I almost chuckled at the silly system the Melbournians were employing. City transit must be hemorrhaging money with this honour-system. After we sat down, Gail explained to me that there were Officers who would sometimes board the buses and trams to ensure you’ve actually used a ticket. If you weren’t able to produce a scanned ticket, heavy fines were levied. Indeed, as I looked around the tram, I noticed signs indicating the powers these officers had including, stopping you, even once off the tram, and asking you to produce a valid ticket, asking for proof of identification if you fail to do this and even the ability to detain and arrest you if you don’t comply with their request! Maybe this system wasn’t so amateurish after all. Gail wasn’t sure of the fines they could impose but believed it to be in the hundreds. Not worth trying to save the cost of a fare I decided.

The tram made its way to the city centre. I became instantly confused with the language used in Australia. What I call “downtown”, Australians apparently call “in the city”. What I call “the rest of the city”, Australians call “the suburbs”. Nothing is ever easy. “In the city” was bustling. There were people everywhere – it felt a tad overwhelming. Gail led me off the tram and indicated some of the major streets we walked along. She brought me to the bank I had business with and we parted ways.

The Australia and New Zealand Bank (ANZ) was the lucky winner of the Australian bank lottery I had held a month prior. Seeing as how I was to be in the country for a while I had decided to open a bank account here and transfer funds over. I had mailed ANZ an account application some weeks earlier and hadn’t heard anything from them. Presuming they’d received my papers, I figured I’d attend a branch and see what the word. This particular branch was located at the bottom of one of ANZ’s towers in downtown Melbourne. I couldn’t understand why ANZ needed more than one downtown tower from which to conduct their business, but apparently they did. Economic Crisis be dammed, let’s build us another tower! Business must be good.

I entered the modern looking lobby and proceeded to the branch located inside. The bank’s first line of defense was a machine which prompted you as to which kind of transaction you were here to complete. After a few taps on the machine’s touch-screen, I was printed out a ticket with a number. I’d never encountered one of these at a bank before. Usually when you need to take a ticket it means a goodly wait is in store – something I wasn’t particularly looking forward to. After about 10 minutes I was called to one of the offices at the side and was assisted in activating my account. The friendly woman there assisted me in activating my already waiting account and welcomed me to Australia. The only hitch was that I wasn’t provided with a bank card, not even a temporary one. I was told I’d have to wait 3-5 days for one to be mailed to me. Not the end of the world, but a bit of a hassle. With that, I proceeded back to the street and started my day.

I had a list of things I needed to get done that day. With my banking complete, item two was setting up my cell phone. Having a mobile here wasn’t essential, strictly speaking, but I like to be connected wherever I go. I call it a generational thing – I think others just think I’m obsessed. I didn’t particularly care about others' opinions on matters like this though, so off I went. From previous research I knew the names of a few of the carriers and we had gone by some of their stores on our way downtown. I retraced my steps to the corner at which we had disembarked from the tram, and from which I would orient myself the rest of the day – Swanston and Collins


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I proceeded to the large, open-concept store for the carrier, Telstra. I sought the assistance of one of the employees there and explained my needs. No fixed-term contract, BlackBerry data and minimal voice. Done and done – all for roughly $45 and no system activation fee or other crap fees – bonus! I met with one of the managers who just had to do a credit check before they could set things up… there’s always a catch isn’t there? Problem number 1: no credit in Australia (of course). Everything immediately goes to hell. Sorry, can’t set you up, but can I set you up with one of our shitty, no-data, pre-paid plans? Absolutely not, good day. Undeterred, I sought out two more carriers, Vodaphone and “3”. Vodaphone says they only do fixed-term contracts. Unbelievable, I hope you go out of business. “3” says we need a credit check too. Absolute bollocks. This wasn’t going how I had envisioned. Rather annoyed at this roadblock I had encountered, I decided to move on to another task. I still needed a copy of my visa for my passport – off to the Australian Immigration Department offices!

Navigating the streets of any new city can feel intimidating. This is especially so of a city of Melbourne’s size. The surrounding office towers make it rather difficult to orient oneself through the aid of landmarks. I suspected my time downtown would entail me stopping at most intersections and finding myself on the map. I have a fairly good sense of direction, however, so, map in my pocket, I eventually found my way. It would have been too easy to just arrive at my location though, wouldn't it? As I was arriving where I needed to be I was accosted by a gentleman working for the country’s blood services. Apparently stocks were bone dry and the agency had sent out a veritable army of people to stand guard at the city’s intersections and bother anyone walking by who so much as glanced in their direction. I had made the mistake of acknowledging their presence that morning, once before. If you look busy and goal-oriented they tend to leave you alone. Despite this, I had discovered that if you didn’t have a phone number, these people couldn’t sign you up for a call back at a later date to arrange you to come and donate. As frustrated as I was about my cell-phone situation, this was an inadvertent perk and an easy way out of making any sort of commitment.

I had also been approached by a man, working for some ‘save the animals’ organization, who had asked me as I walked by “Do you like puppies?!” It was a clever line – who would say no? Most people, having to answer in the affirmative, would then have to stop and listen to his spiel about the plight of animals today and the need for money to save them all. I could tell that I completely threw him off when I looked at him, coldly replied “No” and proceeded to walk past him. He hadn’t counted on anyone answering in the negative and was powerless to stop me from continuing on - they hadn't covered this situation in training.

Right now I had to deal with another blood-man, though. Having seen me look at him, this man began talking to me about donating blood. Prepared with my iron-clad “out”, I decided to stop and chat. Once we got the blood issue out of the way we actually proceeded to have a nice enough chat about where I was from and how long I was in Australia for. He pointed out a bird that resembled a Magpie, but which was much smaller, and which seemed to be nesting near the entrances to one of the buildings at the corner. As people walked by, the bird would swoop down at them, usually resulting in hilarity as the unsuspecting people freaked out and ran away. After a few laughs, I said goodbye and headed across the street to the Immigration offices (I suppose I should note that for brevity, I am claiming I simply made my way across the street – truth be told that I walked up the street a ways, took a turn, and walked up that street for a time before stopping out of a feeling that I wasn’t at all where I was supposed to be. I did make my way back, but it took me another 15 minutes to find where I was supposed to be going).

Once inside I was directed to, again, pick a ticket and wait for my number to be called. I broke out my Lonely Planet book on Melbourne and did some reading. At least I didn’t feel so out of place here – all around me were people with foreign passports, here for a number of different reasons. My number was eventually called. I proceeded to the counter and was quickly printed out a label for my passport. Item 3: complete. I was 2 for 3 at this point and decided to find a Starbucks and look up some things on my laptop.

I normally don’t go to Starbucks but it was the only place I could think of that would have a hotspot. I recalled seeing one at my trusty corner of Swanston and Collins. Indeed, they did, or so their sign advertised. I perused their menu and felt embarrassed that I couldn’t locate the coffee option. Confusion slowly turned into concern as I became quite sure it was not on the menu – where was the coffee? I asked the man across the counter if they had just regular coffee. “Yes!” he exclaimed as he proceeded to list off the different types of cappuccinos, espressos and lattes that they could prepare. I gave him a disapproving look – I wasn’t daft, I could read the menu. I asked him more specifically if they carried coffee of the drip variety. His blank stare indicated he had no idea what I was talking about. I decided not to press the matter and ordered a latte so as not to hold the line. The total came to $4.00 and change. I begrudgingly paid the bill and proceeded to wait for my ‘coffee’. How could Starbucks not have coffee? What was this non-sense? A short fellow behind the counter appeared to be responsible for the preparation of all the drinks. He would call out the names of the drinks as they were finished and thanked people as they approached, collected their beverage and left. His call was more of a shout, however, and his ‘Thank You’ came out as more of a ‘Tank Yiiu’. I grew somewhat annoyed as he continued to belt out drink names and bid people farewell with his oddly pronounced thanks. He finally screamed out my cappuccino which I hastily took to a far corner, away from all the noise. I proceeded to start my laptop and attempt to log on to the internet. Starbucks indeed had a router you could connect with, but upon loading the browser you were prompted to enter credentials to gain access. As I read the page I learned I could get these credentials by paying a nominal fee – something outrageous like $8 for 15 minutes of use. I couldn’t believe my luck. I had just purchased a grossly overpriced cup of espresso mixed with steamed milk and they weren’t even going to offer me free internet. I had much to learn about Australia it seemed. Disappointed at my discovery, I packed my things and returned outside. The morning was wrapping up and my list of things to-do was dwindling. I had made some progress, been confronted with some barriers and made some discoveries, both good and bad. Not a bad start to the day, I suppose.