The following day Gail and I returned to Melbourne. We listened with delight to the radio as we heard Obama win the US Presidential election (keeping in mind it was the afternoon the following day in Australia when Obama gave his midnight speech after winning). I was surprised with the huge Australian reaction. All the networks were covering the victory all day and you couldn’t tune to a channel, either radio or TV and not have the election being talked about. It was almost a bit excessive to be honest but I suppose everyone around the globe was on edge about the outcome.The American electoral system always seems unduly confusing with the many electoral colleges and such. This election, it seemed to have worked in Obama’s favour though. I was dumbfounded to see the results of the popular vote, however – nearly 50-50 split between Obama and McCain. Landslide victory perhaps, but half the country is still die-hard red it would seem.
Saturday the 8th I attended the last of the major cup races, thanks to cousin Dan and his brother Chris who were able to hook me up with a ticket (much appreciated, fellas! In the picture above, Dan is on the left). The cup races in Melbourne were a different affair than the country race I had attended in Bairnsdale. It was strongly advised that I not go without a full suit and so the search for formalwear began. I had come to Australia with a few dress shirts, pants shoes but was lacking a jacket. I decided against trying to find a jacket to match my pants and instead investigated the purchase of a suit. As luck would have it, cheap suits abound in Melbourne and I found one I liked for a total under $150 including some minor alterations. Flemington racetrack, located in Melbourne, is the heart of the Cup races and the multi-week racing carnival that takes place at the beginning of November. We were attending the last major race of the carnival and the place was packed. Those who really cared about the races located themselves inside the racetrack proper. Those who were interested more in the heavy drinking and party aspect of the day located themselves in the parking lot. Now, I know that the words ‘parking’ and ‘lot’ don’t conjure very interesting images. At first I had envisioned some sort of tail-gate party a la Super-bowl outside the stadium in an expansive asphalt lot with far too many cars to be comfortable. I couldn’t have been more wrong. This was indeed a parking lot of sorts but it reminded me more of a camping ground than anything. There were large rows of grassy area divided by laneways for the cars. In these grassy areas were dedicated spots people could pull their cars into. The spots were sufficiently large to setup a large outdoor tent as well under which everyone arranged food and drink.
The energy of the ‘parking lot’ was incredibly high. Thousands of people milled around drinking, socializing and of course betting on the races which were displayed on massive screens positioned around the area. The party was indeed out in the parking lot and Melbournians clearly took the event seriously. People came very well prepared and were dressed incredibly properly. After consuming sufficient drink any inhibitions I had against betting on a sport I knew nothing about disappeared. I had had the forethought not to bring too much money so my bets remained fairly low. I had learned that the favourite horse of any race tends not to win (an average statistical chance of 26% I would later learn) and should it, the payout was so low that it was hardly a worthwhile bet anyway. I took to betting on horses with odds that would produce handsome payouts. This year’s cup races had seen an incredible number of ‘underdogs’ winning races so I figured why not. My obvious prowess at betting paid off handsomely, returning me $60 on a $2.50 bet. The realities of betting began to set in. I instantly regretted not betting far more money – imagine the payout I would have received! Gambler’s fallacy of course – at least I was savy enough to identify that. I decided I didn’t like betting. Losing felt awful and winning still filled me with regret. The day ended fairly late and I realized I hadn’t even set foot inside the racetrack to witness a race. We proceeded to the inter-suburb train, for which there was a station at Flemington, and proceeded home. It was a bit of a shit-show as 60,000 race-goers tried to pack into the trains but we eventually made it.
Later that week I made my way downtown to catch a bus which would take me on a tour of the Great Ocean Road. The Great Ocean Road is a 243 kilometer road built right up against a section of Australia’s beautiful southern coastline. The road was a sort of make-work project for the country’s WWI veterans. It passes through many incredible natural sights and is definitely a recommended point of interest. The tour I had signed up with was a full-day adventure that took us to some of the most beautiful sights along the road. 
Our tour was headed-up by our bus driver who was a very extroverted, knowledgeable and amusing fellow. I had the good luck of sitting shotgun in our small tour bus and he recounted many stories to me. One of the most shocking stories was one I like to tell everyone because it amuses me to no end and speaks strongly of the American voter. A week or prior our driver had the pleasure of having two Texans on his tour who had told them how they had come to be in Australia. This couple was now living illegally in Australia after having fled the United States. My first thought was this couple was of some sort of visible minority and was being persecuted by local red-necks who would have found them if they just fled to another state. Or perhaps they had committed a crime for which the government was pursuing them? No, the true was much more amusing. 
This couple, white, card-carrying Republicans had fled the United States of America after learning Barack Obama had won the Presidential election. So afraid of what this man would do to their country that they sold their house and all their assets, withdrew all their money, closed their accounts, and like displaced refugees of war, have fled their country. Mind-boggling. Our tour-guide clearly found this just as amusing as I did. What the hell were they thinking? Had they done their research they may have learned that Australia takes a very hard line on immigration, especially illegal immigration. I found this a tad ironic. Two Texan Republicans, people from a state inflamed by hordes of illegal immigration from Mexico, felt they could simply move to Australia and set up shop. Our tour guide was fairly sure they would be arrested eventually and deported to a little island off of Australia’s coast where illegal aliens were held – Australia’s version of Guantanamo bay where the laws and constitution of Australia do not apply. Oh the irony! 
The tour itself was very impressive and I was repeatedly being dazzled by the beautiful natural sights even this tiny part of the country held. We took a tour of the rainforest and learned of the giant Eucalyptus tree which, if allowed to grow, beats out even the tallest of redwoods. The problem of course is that these beautiful specimens were ruthlessly cut down a hundred years ago and turned into paper. Such a waste. Our guide warned those wearing flip-flops to stay to the path in order to avoid being bitten by slugs. I wasn’t exactly sure why slugs were a concern but he explained that the slugs found here injected a toxin into your blood stream which congealed in your blood vessels leading to death. Yet another violently deadly creature whose existence I would have never imagined. We proceeded along the coast to the 12 Apostles and London Bridge – both famous rock formations. I took a helicopter ride which gave an aerial view of the area and offered excellent photo opportunities. It was an amazing and exhausting day. 
I finished the week trying to determine what the rest of my time in Australia was going to look like. Gail had been incredibly generous in allowing me to stay with her for nearly a month at this point and I felt it was time to move on. I began researching jobs and sublet opportunities in Melbourne. My options were not at all appealing. While there were plenty of sublet opportunities, none of them really piqued my fancy. I was hoping to be around other people my age, in an environment that would allow for socialization. That was proving to be unlikely with the options I had – mostly sublets for a bedroom in a house with one or two other people who were often ‘young professionals’. I randomly began looking at what the prospects were outside of Melbourne. My searches led me to an interesting medium-term share-house in Cairns. I had to commit for four weeks but then only had to give one week’s notice before leaving after that. I would be sharing a unit with six other people and there were six or seven other units in the complex. I was initially hesitant – moving up to Cairns seemed like a bit of an impulse decision and who knows what I would find up there. That’s when I realized that’s exactly why I should do it. Wasn’t that what this entire trip was about?
Within the span of a day I had found this option, called and put down deposit for a room and started looking at flights up to Cairns. Impulse decision indeed but I felt good about it. The Melbourne options weren’t feeling right and the whole process was stressing me out. Flights were available and fairly cheap. I checked out my bus and train options just for comparison. The bus looked like a horrible way to travel the 3,000 km up to Cairns but the train had me curious. I remembered travelling to Eastern Canada with my mum many years prior, spending a few nights in a sleeper car and the idea appealed to me right now. I decided to look into the option further; it was going to be an interesting trip up Australia’s expansive coast.
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