STELLA!!!

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I think we would fit right in New Orleans. Mind you, there’s no streetcar actually named Desire around here, but trams are the main way we get around Melbourne. And just like Blanche Dubois who has always depended on the kindness of strangers, so have we. I can tell you right now, we feel very blessed by those chance encounters we have made recently.

Since sleeping on park benches wasn’t up to our standards of living, we have finally accepted the generous invitation made by Katie, Cecilia’s sister, to come and live with her and her small family on the seventh floor of an urban tower overlooking the Melbourne zoo. Two days ago we barely knew her, and now we are sharing living space with her 10-month-old kids, teaching them how to say trendy Portuguese words and showing them that goldfish and Tibetan prayer bowls can be an excellent source of fun.

This week, we also got our urban groove on and FINALLY went out to see Ron Mueck’s expo at the NGV. A couple of years ago, while in Edinburgh, we had missed it and had opted for a free event instead. Ever since, we have had this tinge of regret of having passed up on a wonderful opportunity for the sake of a couple of bucks. This time, seeing as it was presented in Mueck’s home town and being a special event with musicians and all, we couldn’t miss it. It was really worth it to see the work of a genius sculptor and the voice of Ludo in Labyrinth.

As I mentioned earlier, trams are the main source of transportation in Melbourne. They are abundant, fast and fairly cheap. In fact, they are so cheap that you don’t even have to pay to ride them. I don’t know who came up with the payment system, but I can assure you that it was designed for failure. You hop on, make your way to a little machine and put your money in exchange for a ticket. That ticket serves no purpose. You just hold on to it as proof of payment. But proof to whom you might ask? The tram driver doesn’t care, the other passengers don’t care. In fact, 90% of the time, NOBODY cares if you pay the fare or not. Only once in a while, about once a month, commando style officers storm the streetcar in a surprise inspection and hand out fines to whoever has not paid for that particular trip; fines that can easily be avoided by talking to them in a broken down, Québécois riddled English, feigning ignorance of common law. Not that we have ever done it… officially…

And as further proof that you can always count on the kindness of strangers, we have just been invited into the home of yet another small family willing to take us in out of pure generosity. A chance encounter at a local event turns into yet another adventure. Magic.

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