Rugby World Cup

Fantastic weekend and just what I needed. Two days of warm, balmy weather and a city transformed. Friday night, went out to Croydon to hang with my mate Aaron and his darling sister Sam, neighbours, family, friends stopped in and we chatted Aussie-style until 4am. Sat around talking, Aaron played a bit of guitar, laughed my head off at the typical Australian crass humour and jokes. The night ended with Aaron pounding away on the piano to "Piano Man" and the rest of our little crowd slurring the lyrics. Saturday morning, got to see a bit of Croydon and the Inner West before heading back to the city, where I swam laps in Victoria Park's outdoor pool. That night was the semi-final rugby game, between France and Wales. Pascal and I met up with my French friend Margaux at a bar in Surry Hills, packed with fans ready to drink 5L each of beer. The place was half and half in terms of French or Welch fans, we would compete who could sing "WA-LES" or "Aller les BLEUS" louder. It was lovely to meet so many French people in one bar (I was in heaven) and even better when France narrowly defeated Wales (9-8, ouch.) We all danced around, belting out La Marseillaise and cheering. That night, Drew and I went to a birthday party out in Stanmore, a costume party where you had to dress up like your favorite hero -- whether that's Harry Potter, Robin Hood or Jasmine. I didn't have a costume, and was given some ears and a furrrrrr jacket. I just said that Puff Daddy was my hero.
Sunday was the last celebration of Sydney's Bike Festival in Pirrama Park in Pyrmont. I rolled out of bed nice and early on Sunday to get the early-bird special (free bike tune-up). There was a nice lady there who pointed out to me all these sa-weet bike rides around the city, hidden bike paths and trails, and best of all, a stress-free way to ride to Centennial Park (the park is so lovely, but trying to get there on Cleveland Rd can be hectic and quite dangerous. I'm just waiting to get doored, smashed into by a bus, or play chicken with a driver...)
Pascal and I hit the gym for a serious workout-- 10 rounds in the boxing rink! He's helping me out with my moves and skills, although I'm still rubbish despite the drills we do. If I ever did real boxing, I'd be hit so quick I wouldn't see it coming!
After boxing, I headed with the boys to Bronte beach (longest bus ride everrrr) but totally worth it since Bronte is one of the coolest places in Sydney. The park has communal barbecues, alongside picnic tables and facilities--great atmosphere for a Sunday barbecue. It felt like half the city was there! Such a great vibe, barbecues going, right next to the beach, music playing in the background, guys playing pickup footy. I got there and thought "This is why I moved to Australia." The weather was so nice, Sam and I even swam in the water for a good while (although I'm still finding sand in my scalp..)
I rushed from Bronte over to North Sydney, just in time for the BIG GAME Australia-NZ at the Commodore Hotel with Aaron. We got smoked turns out, the ref was a prick and kept making bad calls against the Wallabies. Oh well!

What Inspires You?

Only four weeks left until Melbourne's inaugural City2Sea 14k race where I'm fundraising for the Cambodian Kids Foundation! I'm nearly to the halfway mark but still need your donation to get to my target goal of $500. Training is a great excuse to explore a bit of Sydney, profit from the expansive Centennial Park and get back in shape post-marathon!

What inspires you?

These photos are currently on my desktop to remind me of the climbing I'd love to do one day. Monique Forestier is my climbing role-model, I like to keep a daily reminder of what inspires me

The Girl Effect

This week is The Girl Effect's national blogging campaign to get the word out about how empowering girls and women in developing countries can end the cycle of poverty that cripple over a billion people. For decades, people have been asking themselves what the silver bullet is to poverty. Turns out it's as simple as girls. Why?
It has been shown that an educated girl will invest 90% of her future income in her family, compared to 35% for a boy. Yet 250 million adolescent girls live in poverty and are more likely than boys to be uneducated, married at a young age, and exposed to HIV/AIDS. Today, less than two cents of every international development dollar go to girls, the very people who could do the most to end poverty. Where does the rest of that money go? Where's the accountability? As long as girls remain invisible, the world misses out on a tremendous opportunity for change.

 Girl Effect.com created this brilliant, fast-paced video to highlight exactly what happens when you invest in girls-- when you educate a girl, she is much more likely to get herself out of poverty and help her community. Check it out, and certain browse the website. Lastly, be sure to share this with others!

Great Barrier Reef

Going on holiday is not usually as relaxing as you'd like it to be; there's the stress of getting to the airport, finding accommodation and of course, hemorraging money as you find a place to eat out for every single meal. I distinctly remember my dad saying on one of our epic Lingham family trips: "I need a vacation from this vacation." All this to say that I experienced none of this during my trip to Cairns and had a perfect little holiday, short and sweet. I traveled with three other students, Sara, Lisa and Joe, and we booked a hostel called Gilligan's Backpacker Resort (I think the name itself sold us...) Apparently this hostel is rather infamous in Cairns since the other half of it is transforms into a nightclub, called the G Spot, ahem, with music pounding into every room until 4am. Needless to say, I spent as little time as possible in our hostel. Our 6-bed room also smelled distinctly of feet and wet, ocean dog.

Wednesday night after arriving to a balmy, tropical Cairns and one hour behind Sydney (Queensland conveniently chooses not to observe Daylight Savings...too lazy I think) the others went out to explore the town, I met one of our new roommates, an Irishman named Fred and we went to the pub instead. Thursday was fantastic-- Fred, Joe and I spent the whole day on the beach, about a 20-minute drive outside of Cairns. The water was warm and salty, inviting until you remembered the small sign at the top of the beach that says, "Watch out for stingers and crocodiles". That's right, lurking just downstream in the local river were salt-water crocodiles. Stingers that lurk in these waters are some of the most deadly creatures on the earth. Somehow I managed to bathe for a solid 5 minutes, about 1 foot deep in the water, the scaredy-cat I am.

Friday, bright and early, was our trip out to the Great Barrier Reef with a tour company. I find that tour companies aren't really my thing-- I hate to pay someone oodles of money for something I could discover myself. But with the reef, I didn't want to mess around. We drove about 2 hrs out from Cairns to the coral reef, the water was the most brilliant blue I've ever seen. We did a little crash course on scuba diving, how to equalize your ears, what to do if your mouthpiece comes out and you have no air. Before we knew it, we were getting suited up in wetsuits, mask, flippers, and a heavy backpack-looking thing with the air tank attached. It looks a bit like a vest-backpack; when you're on the surface, you can fill up the vest with air to float on top. When you let the air out, you start your descent towards the bottom. They also put lead weights around your waist to sink you-- I had 4 around my waist and kept sinking towards the reef, which you're not meant to touch because the coral can be extremely sharp (even though it looks soft and fluffy!) Sara and Lisa had only 3 weights and kept floating up. It was hilarious!
Our instructor Paul did a few drills with us underwater, and then we started out slow descent downwards towards the reef. The feeling of being under that much water can be a bit claustrophobic, knowing that you're a long way away from the surface. But it was lovely to sit on the ocean floor, see underneath our massive boat, explore the coral reef, having playful fish coming right up to you to explore. Joe and I kept sticking out our hands to touch some of the friendly fish.
Let me say that the reef is one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen-- the sunlight streaming in makes it look like another universe, there's all sorts of colorful coral swaying back and forth, with brightly colored fish pecking around, looking for food. We even saw a sea turtle, Crush!, float on by. It was spectacular. What a sight.

There's a big green fish, I forget the name, that is about 3 ft long and loves to be pet! The scuba instructors like to call him Wally. Here's a sample photo, with divers in the background to give you an idea its size:

The fish were absolutely beautiful, with an array of colors that you couldn't imagine you'd ever see in the wild. It looked as if a 5-yr old had taken his crayons and drawn a fish with wild stripes, spotted blue and purple and green--and bam, there is was on the reef. Joe turned out to be an extremely heavy breather; despite being given ample amounts of oxygen for a 30-min dive, Joe managed to go through his tank in less than 15 minutes! We putted around the reef, took a picture with Nemo and the anenome and explored our little corner of the reef. The whole experience was surreal, the reef is one of the coolest things I've ever seen. I'd like to travel back there to explore more, spend more time diving and discovering the vast array of creatures and critters living on the reef. I'm also just very happy with myself that I managed to stay underwater for that long. I'm not sure where this deep-seated fear of open water came from, maybe haunting memories from Jaws, but I seemed ok with the reality that I was swimming in the vicinity of some the deadliest marine animals.We spent the second half of the afternoon at a place called Turtle Bay, snorkeling around and just feasting our eyes on the incredible scenery. There was so much to look at! I saw a massive clam tucked away under some coral. Here's a photo:

On Saturday, I crossed another big To-Do thing off my bucket list: skydiving. I've always told myself that I could never, would never go skydiving. The thought of jumping out of an airplane was too much to handle, it was something I could never see myself doing. But then again, I also told myself I couldn't run a marathon, and now that that's off the list, skydiving was the next big accomplishment. Joe and I signed up for the Jump the Beach skydiving trip, an all day event that brought us two hours south to Mission Beach, a picturesque tropical beach, complete with palm trees, white sand and quiet, lulling waves rolling in. To be honest, my stomach felt like it was shriveled up like a little raisin for most of the day leading up to the jump. I was trying to mentally prepare myself for jumping out of an airplane at 14,000 feet. Thankfully someone was strapped my back and edging me towards the door of the plane, or I would have stayed in there all day, terrified. 

My tandem jumper is a certified badass -- his name is Glen, and looks like an intense thrill-seeker with his sweet shades and shirt that says "Certified Legend". He was the first skydiver that Joe and I spotted that morning, and when he passed by, we both said "Hope I'm with that guy." I was!
I felt comfortable jumping with him-- he's literally done thousands of jumps. I asked him roughly how many, he reckons around 8,000 or 10,000 jumps. Wow. He was doing six alone that day! 

The ride to the airstrip felt long, I was still trying to mentally prepare myself, and the ride up in the airplane was agonizing as well, the anticipation growing like a balloon inside my stomach. We just climbed higher and higher; I was watching the altitude meter on Glenn's wristwatch. 4,000ft....9,000ft....10,000ft.... Meanwhile Glenn is triple-checking everything on my harness, undoes my seatbelt and makes sure that I'm safely attached to his harness and parachute. He's super calm, obviously, which helps me out. I thought I was appearing fairly calm and ready (while my insides are deciding whether or not I pee my pants) until I tried to ask Glenn a question. Goes like this: "Hee hooo are we?" Try #2 "Heee hiiiiiiii are we?" Try #3 (and this time I am really concentrating on my articulation): "Heeeeeeeeeeeeiuuuuuu hiiooooou are we?". Pathetic. I am literally so nervous that I forget how to speak English and the simple question of "How high are we now?" is just not coming out. The H's are too hard to pronounce in my state. Now I know how stutterers feel. I laugh about it later--talk about being at a loss for words.

Glenn announces that he feels like doing a bunch of flips out of the plane, couple spins and then freefall.

And then it came, a noise I will never forget...The rattling noise of the door going up and air being sucked through the plane. Since Glenn is the certified badass of the group, he sits next to the pilot, which meant that I would be the last one to jump from the plane. Great. I watch as one after another of my fellow skydivers are pushed towards the door, lean their heads back against their tandem jumpers and then just... fall. Out of the plane. I am literally scared to death as Glenn is pushing me closer and closer to the door, I would kill to see the look on my face at that point. I shout, "I feel like a lamb to the slaughter!!!"

 And then it's my turn. Stick my legs out and under the plane, lean my head back against Glenn's shoulder and just wait, for what felt like an eternity. And then all of sudden, the worst feeling in the world, where your stomach goes into your throat and the whole world spins around you. We did 3 or 4 somersaults in the air and then just fell, freefalling 1,000 ft every seconds. The freefall was incredible, it's strange but I never actually imagined falling so fast. The freefall lasts for a minute, as you fall from 14,000 to 4,000 feet in only 60 seconds, so of course it feels fast. All you can do is scream your freakin' head off, throw up your arms and legs and fly. Glenn pushes down on my hands which made us spin in circles, like you see in the movies. That is awesome, but nearly turns my insides out. He points to his wrist, which means we are at 4000 ft and POOOF the parachute sucks us up and we float on through the sky. The view is spectacular, with all these islands off the coastline, the Great Barrier Reef in the distance, beaches, and of course, the bluest water you've ever seen. We just float back and forth in the parachute, I get to hold the straps and decide the direction for a bit, we do a few tricks. I couldn't stop shouting, "Woooo Hooo!!!" just like Brad would do when something is really great. 

We make a smooth landing on the beach, but drop about 20 feet in 3 seconds, so I feel that horrible feeling in my belly that I avoid by avoiding rollercoasters.

Joe and I are both ecstatic, feeling super high on life and exhilirated. We spend the rest of the day on Mission Beach enjoying the sun and the waves. 

Sunday, I didn't have a flight until later in the evening, so I spent it reluctantly at the pool at Gilligan's, where it was the biggest sausage fest I think I've ever seen. There were about 50 guys, all bros and frat boys from all over the world, and about 5 girls. I kept to myself in the corner, Joe and teh girls joined me a bit later. Cairns, as a city, I found to be a place I would never want to visit ever again. All the activities and adventures surrounding Cairns are fantastic: snorkeling, scuba diving, whitewater rafting, bungy jumping, croc spotting... but Cairns is essentially the Cancun of Australia. Party town, and not my scene. 

*Pour mes amis francais: Voila, j'ai fait de la plongée et la chute libre dans le nord tropique, à Cairns. Le Great Barrier Reef (La Grande Barriere de Corail) est énorme (environ 2600k de longeur), et une structure magnifique. Des poissons brilliants, des requins, du corail, des poulpes, des tortues de mer..) Je me suis éclatée dans l'eau claire! J'ai fait un cours d'introduction pour la plongée, j'ai vu du corail brilliant, des poissons blues/verts/violets/ rayé de blues, le barrière de corail est incroyable. J'ai vu meme un tortue marine! Le lendemain, j'ai fait de la chute libre d'un avion a 4300m en tandem (c'est-a-dire, je me suis pas lancée de l'avion toute seule! Il y avait quelqu'un derriere moi, comme dans la photo:) J'arrive pas à le décrire aussi bien en francais qu'en anglais, mais voila un p'tit idée de l'experience!

Sunrise in Sydney

A few students and I made an 11pm decision to wake up the following morning to catch the sunrise at dawn. Despite the 4:45am wake up, the sunrise made it completely worth it. Although Maggie was out there first, awake and chipper, I didn't actually expect to see Julian and his seemingly reluctant roommate Greg to be standing outside in the cold, but alas, there they were at 5am. We caught the 5:02 bus to Circular Quay, (pronounced Circuler Key, although it's quite hilarious when foreigners, especially Americans, called it QU-ayyyy, and even better when they manage to mispronounce Circular as well...) and rode with surly commuters, bitter they need to leave the house at 5am just to beat the morning traffic.
Maggie showed us an ideal location to watch the sunrise, on the pier just across the water from the Opera House. It was spectacular; just as it was rising, the sky glowed like a volcano that was erupting molten lava. The pictures came out fantastic, justifiying such an early rise to what promised to be a long day.

I had to remind myself that our librarian Lorraine wakes up at that hour every day just to get here on time to campus at 8:30!

Such Is Life

I've decided to devote an entire post to Ned Kelly, even though the Melbourne gaol (pronounced jail, people.) was essentially part of my successful trip to Melbourne.
*Et pour mes amis français, en bas pour lire en francais!*
To say that Ned Kelly is a legend is the biggest understatement since the captain of the Hindenburg said, "Does someone smell gas?!" [Thank you, Tina Fey.] Ned Kelly is so much more than a legend. His story is so epic and iconic that it has weaseled itself into Australian literature, folklore, culture, art and film. He is a folk hero and a symbol of Irish-Australian resistance to the Anglo-Australian ruling class. One of our resident professors, Sharon Clarke, has not only a framed photograph of Ned Kelly and his epic beard, but an entire library devoted to the Kelly gang. So who is this famed robber? Is he a villain? Saviour? Bushranger? Modern-day Robinhood? Hero?
He would rob banks for example, but burn the mortgage deeds for the people of the town. During a bank robbery, his gang members would keep their hostages "busy" with drinks at the local pub. He was proclaimed a local hero at the age of 12 when he saved a boy's life from drowning. He was given a green sash by the family that he wore the same day he was captured at Glenrowan.

I first read about the folklore surrounding Ned Kelly in Bill Bryson's In A Sunburned Country when he succinctly wrote that you couldn't understand modern-day Australian culture without understanding this outlaw's story. It somehow ties together greater themes of good versus evil, the strained history between the British and the Irish playing itself out in Australia, and the perpetual predicament of justice and human rights.

Ned Kelly was the son of Irish immigrants, born in Victoria in 1852, and considered Irish-Australian. At the time, the British ruling class had a deep-seated resentment for the working class, ill-educated (and ill-mannered) Irish low-lifes. After a series of run-ins with the police, bank robberies and hostage crises, Kelly and his gang ambushed a couple of policemen, and out of self-defense (or so they say) Kelly shot and killed Officer Thomas Lonigan, thus raising the bounty on his head to about £5,000. Kelly built himself and his gang extremely "homemade" and amateur armour-- he used blades from farming equipment to make the armor that weighed over 100 pounds. 

 Can you imagine moving in that thing?

The epic battle came at Glenrowan in June 1880, about 40 police vs the 4 gang members after an attempted bank robbery. The armor protected Kelly's vital areas during the shootout, but he was finally taken down and arrested with 28 bullet wounds in his legs. Ouch!
He was taken the to Melbourne prison hospital, and nursed back to health so he could withstand trial. Keep in mind, he was a thorn in the ruling Anglo-Australians' side at the time. They wanted to being this dude dead, on any charge. It was the Wild West out there, and they planned on bringing down Kelly and his family (his mother, Ellen, was in prison at the time for a crime for which she was wrongly accused)
After months in the hospital, Kelly was put on trial for the death of Officer Lonigan two years prior, accused of murder and hanged on November 11, 1880. Why was his death so significant?
First of all, his daring and defiance to the ruling class at  the time was revolutionary. The Irish had suffered for far too long at the hands of the British, whether in the Old World or the New, and he stood up for his people. Second, it was clear that Kelly was not given a fair trial and was simply hanged to make an example of him.


I led two separate tours of the Melbourne gaol where Kelly was imprisoned and later hanged. The gaol cells are absolutely tiny-- about 3 ft by 4 ft. The guide explained that at the time, it was believed that solitude and isolated confinement were the best tools for rehabilitation. Prisoners were kept in their cells 23 hrs a day and interacted with other humans once a week. Instead of rehabilitation, this led to depression, anxiety and general crazy town. Didn't work.
 Our group also got to participate in a fun courtroom drama, where we re-enacted the Ned Kelly trial, acting out major characters from the trial. Witnesses, prosecutors, jury members, Ned Kelly's beard. We got to dress up in white-haired wigs and robes, and read from a script to decide the ultimate question: Was Ned Kelly granted a fair trial?

In my opinion, no, he was set up for a death sentence. There was a fellow from Parliament, Gaunson, who tried to get Ned a fair trial since he was pretty much screwed with Redmond Barry at the bench  (he was infamous for having a burning hatred for the Kelly family, and had previously sentenced Ellen Kelly to three years in prison).
Gaunson purposely sent an inexperienced and dim-witted lawyer, Henry Bindon, to force Judge Barry to adjourn until later date. Unfortunately, Barry was still the residing judge when they resumed, and Kelly was left the halfwit Bindon, rather than Molesworth, who was originally meant to defend Ned. The prosecutor was Charles Smyth (this was my role during the reeanctment) who painted a dark portrait of Kelly and his doings. They say that the shorter the time a jury takes to decide, the more likely it is that the verdict is guilty. For Ned, they took less than 15 minutes.

I've never had much (or any for that matter) interest in law or court cases, but I find this one fascinating. The whole trial was ludicrous and entirely unfair. After Judge Barry sentenced him to death, the two had an infamous exchange where Kelly basically told Barry that he'd see him in hell.
Kelly was hanged at the Melbourne gaol on Nov 11, 1880, his last words being "Well, I supposed it'd have to come to this. Such is life." Ironically, Judge Barry died only 12 days after the hanging, supposedly of blood poisoning.
How, you ask?
From a carbuncle, or infection at the back of his neck-- from years of wearing a horse-hair wig. Talk about his wig was killing him, literally.

About a decade ago, folks did a re-trial of the Kelly trial, presenting new evidence that was concealed or absent. For example, they proved that Kelly did not actually kill Officer Lonigan, the crime for which he was accused and hanged. 

What's interesting nowadays is that you'll get two different accounts of this legendary figure. Some will tell you that he was a villain, a cold-blooded cop-killer, a famed bankrobber, a bushranger in the Wild West of Australia. Others will tell you that he was a modern-day hero who stood up for justice in the face of tyranny. I guess it all depends whether you are descended from the English or the Irish.

At the end of the day, I'm still left with the haunting question of... "What would his face really look like without all that facial hair?"


*Un p'tit mot pour mes amis français: désolée, mais mon francais écrit c'est vraiment affreux. Tout se passe bien ici en Australie, je suis bien installée à Sydney avec une apartment dans le centre-ville, mais sans colocs!! :( Mes colocs Gaëtan, Pauline et Elise me manquent trop... Je bosse pour Boston University, il y a 62 étudiants dans notre programme. J'organise des évenements pour le programme, je m'occupe de 24 étudiants dans notre résidence, et je bosse dans notre bibliothèque. Deux jours par semaine je bosse pour une organisation AFAP qui soutien des ONGs en Asie et Afrique, notamment des petits groupes qui ont besoin des fonds et des conseils. Je suis stagiaire, je suis chargée des affaires sociales, pour augmenter les membres dans l'organisation. 
Enfin, j'ai un vélo mais il y n'a PAS les pistes cyclables!!! Je suis en colère!!! C'est assez dangereux de rouler dans la rue avec les buses et les taxis qui passent. Mais je me méfie, et j'espère de pas se peter la geuele...une deuxieme fois :) La semaine dernière je suis allée avec la programme à Melbourne pour le weekend--une ville simplement GENIALE. La ville est assez petite mais il y a des galleries, le film, le theatre, les arts, la culture, la cuisine que extraordinaire, avec des petits cafés européens partout. Je me vois bien à Melbourne, je m'entend bien avec la culture. 
La semaine prochaine je vais à Cairns au Great Barrier Reef dans le nord, là où l'ocean est bleue claire. Trop beau! En décembre, je vais en Chine pour voir la petite Buddha Claire, et nous passerons par Bali (le surf!!!!!) avant de rentrer à Sydney pour Noel et le Nouvel An.
Voilà-- j'espère que mon francais écrit est pas trop dur à comprendre. Des années et des années de cours de grammaire-- tout pour rien! Quel honte!

Melbourne

Week three of September already, time is flying by! We hit the road and flew the entire program down to Melbourne (pronounced MEL-bin, people.) for 4 days, which quickly became my new favorite field trip. It takes a trip down to Melbourne to truly understand the rivalry between Sydney and Australia's second city. These two have a relationship that rivals only New York and Boston. Sydney, like New York, is like the big brother who doesn't really care that much about its little brother. Sydney thinks it's better so doesn't bother with comparisons. Melbourne, like Boston, is like the little brother who is constantly comparing the two and has developed what we might call an inferiority complex. Personally I know that Bostonians are always saying "Yeah! We're awesome! We're so much better than New York! Yeah!" whereas New York...doesn't even compare the two. I've met quite a few Aussies during my time with GYLC-- all of whom will proclaim "Melbourne's #1" or "No, no! Sydney's better!" Here's the truth:
They're both great cities in very different ways, for different reasons.

Melbourne's definitely got a more European feel to it, both in look and diversity. Historically, each city got off to a very different start. Sydney's got a convict background-- it was originally set up as a colony to which to send Britain's criminals. During Britain's Industrial Revolution, crime skyrocketed and soon jails filled up too quickly for crimes as petty as stealing food or clothing. Even the smallest crime, such as pickpocketing, would send someone packing to Australia to serve time. After being released from prison however, the criminal wouldn't go back to England but rather would be expected to stay in Australia.
Melbourne, on the other hand, doesn't have this convict history. Instead, it was a major hub for European immigrants who landed directly in Port Phillips Bay, or came over after landing initially in Perth. This is how Melburnians attribute their diversity, multi-culturalism on steroids and city planning.
In 1850, gold was discovered in Victoria, ironically only a month after Victoria split from New South Wales. This transformed the city as hundreds of thousands flocked to Victoria to sift for gold, and the colony soon replaced NSW as the darling of Britain's colonies down under.

Throughout the city are these tiny laneways that twist and wind and offer all sorts of shops, boutiques and cafés. The city is known for its unique and quirky bars with a decor that New York restauranteurs could only dream about. For example, Sunday night I went with my coworkers to Madame Brussels, a rooftop bar that looked like a 1950s garden party. After we hit up Gin Palace and ordered exorbitantly priced but fabulous cocktails. The inside was dark with pillows everywhere-- it looked like Austin Power's lair. Another fun bar was a place called Cookie, a trendy restaurant with a decor themed 50s children's room, with old trains, children's stories and lanterns surrounding the bar. But by far my favorite venue was Berlin, down an old venue with a menu that's split in half: The West vs. The East. The cocktails on both sides are themed after each side of Berlin, including the Checkpoint Charlie.

Chinatown

Another cool bar was down a twisted alley covered in graffiti, (no sign by the way) called The Croft Institute with mad scientist cocktails in test tubes. From What's On Melbourne: "The Croft Institute is tucked at the end of a winding Chinatown alley well off the beaten track. Getting there [and actually finding the place] is part of the experience as you wander past street art covered walls and the back entrances of some of Melbourne's finest Chinese restaurants."

 The city is actually a grid system, or at least the CBD (Central Business District) is. This makes the city extremely easy to navigate-- I could walk from the northeast corner of the grid to the southwest corner within 20-30 minutes. Along the way you'll see trams running in the centre of the street. Melbourne actually has one of the most extensively tram systems in the world-- and they're not your typical trams that you'd find in Grenoble, but more like the ones in San Francisco. Old rickety trolleys that are adorable and give the city that extra charm. This accounts for one the biggest differences I think between the two: the trams give Melbourne the appearance of being clean and organized, while Sydney's non-existent tram service, suburban trains and bus system give the appearance of...chaos, loud city noises and exhaust. It's.. lovely.
Why would I move to Melbourne over Sydney?
Two words:
Bike Lanes.

The downtown is covered in them! I am so envious! Sydney,  having NONE, can be quite backwards when it comes to modern-day transportation (it seems like). Apparently there was a tram system in place, but they ripped it out at the turn of the century in a bone-headed move. Second, there is ONE official bike lane that will take me absolutely no where, and there are rumours going around that the city may remove it. Blurgh!The general argument goes that if you're trying to decide between the two, Sydney's got the harbour and the beach. Gotta love the beaches' proximity to the city. It really can't be beat.
If you're looking for the beach, a city that is more finance/business and all that serious stuff, head to Sydney.
If you're looking for the arts, the film industry, theatre, fantastic quirky bars and cafés, a river on which to go running and BIKE LANES, head to Melbourne.