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We only saw Mark and Allison once more before flying down to Melbourne. We were coming home from food shopping and they were strolling on King, hand-in-hand. I guessed that they had come to some sort of an understanding.
We registered at our hotel, near the Victoria Markets, and walked down Swanston Street towards the Yarra. We stopped near City Square for a quick bite and then to the docks at Princes Walk. The guidebook said one had to book in advance, but Melbourne River Cruises were only to happy to take dosh for a two-and-a-half hour trip up and down the river. We found seats, made ourselves comfortable and we were soon off. Rachel was really excited and paid great attention to the narrative. I listened to it, to her and enjoyed bobbing on the water.
When we got back ashore, we strolled west to Elizabeth and then back to Victoria. It was twilight and so we had a quick meal and went to our room. In the morning, I was humming. Rachel asked what it was. "Simon and Garfunkel," I responded. "From the '60s. My granddad had lots of vinyl records. My dad's got them now."
Something tells me
It's all happening at the zoo.
I do believe it,
I do believe it's true.
The monkeys stand for honesty,
Giraffes are insincere,
And the elephants are kindly but
They're dumb.
Orangutans are skeptical
Of changes in their cages,
And the zookeeper is very fond of rum.
Zebras are reactionaries,
Antelopes are missionaries,
Pigeons plot in secrecy,
And hamsters turn on frequently.
What a gas! You gotta come and see
At the zoo.
[certainly under copyright; I've no notion how to request permission]
Rachel was laughing. "That's a great song, but you're a terrible troubadour!"
"O, my fair one! You have struck me to the quick. Lest I despair, let me take you to break your fast and then sally forth to the Jardin des animaux."
We had a wonderful day at the Royal Melbourne Zoo. Rachel was particularly enchanted by the Little Blues wandering all over the grass. At one point we came face-to-face with a grey kangaroo, but he (I couldn't see a pouch opening) decided we were neither a threat nor interesting and disappeared into the brush. We walked through several of the enclosures, had lunch in a bistro, and went through the platypus exhibit and over the lions' enclosure. We spent about six hours there. We got back to the hotel, took a crowded shower together, and dried off. At about 1830, I said: "Best get dressed and off to dinner."
"Where?"
"Semi-dressy Italian."
"Okay." She gave me a kiss and jumped up. Twenty minutes later we were on our way downstairs and a bit later I was flagging a taxi. "Il Bacaro on Little Collins," I told the driver. The reservation I'd made was in order and we were seated immediately. "I'm told this is the best in Melbourne," I told Rachel.
"Must be the dearest, too," she responded.
"Go ahead, I promised you tops this trip."
"We had calamari and then Rachel ordered the fish of the day, which was barramundi. I decided to try the goat. We ordered a bottle of sparkling Macedon. The waiter seemed surprised. "My uncle suggested it," I told Rachel. He'd been right: this must be an actual Victoria's secret. I said that to Rachel, she giggled. My goat was just wonderful. We both opted for a sweet. It was quite dear, but this wasn't going to be a week for savings. We took a taxi back to the hotel.
The next morning after breakfast we went to the National Gallery of Victoria on the other side of the Yarra. I'm certain that we saw only a fraction of the exhibits, but we were there all day. There were some striking works from Vanuatu and New Guinea and a great deal of European painting, including a wonderful early Turner. Rachel spent over an hour looking at the costume and fabric displays. We looked at some of the Australian art, but knew that we'd be going to the big Fred Williams show at the University.
"The stitching on that Italian purse is lovely," Rachel remarked when we were sitting down having a cold drink. "And that Turner that you liked so much."
"He's really the first Impressionist," I said.
"Yes. I see that. Even a few years earlier the sun is a circle though we all see the light as a sort of blurry wash."
"The Zoffany was interesting, too. A family portrait. So formal. So impersonal. Unreal."
"So, changing topics, what's on our agenda?"
"Oh. I want to get to the Market. And the Botanical Gardens. And back to the Zoo. And the museum downtown. Can we do all that?"
"Sure. Botanical Gardens tomorrow. More art the next day. Then the zoo. The Market on Saturday morning and then home, bright and early on Sunday."
"Early?"
"You wanted to take the train, remember? The XPT leaves about 830."
"I'm tired. Maybe we can just sit and read in the Gardens for an hour or so."
"And two more restaurants to try."
"Okay. Can we look at the Greek and Roman stuff before we leave?"
We did. After a sit-down outside, we went to have somewhat early dinner at Langton's and strolled through the gallery district, eyeing the works on display.
The morning saw us taking a train to the Gardens, catching the 1100 guided tour and sitting for a bit watching the ducks in the pond. We had tea and some sandwiches, walked a bit more, and decided to look at ACCA, the Australian Centre for Contemporary Arts. They had an exhibit of work by a Belgian woman, Berlinde De Bruyckere. Her work was very striking, made up of wood, wool, skin, and wax. Neither of us liked it very much, but it was very dramatic. We walked a bit more and then took the train back to the hotel. We ended up having curry in a Thai place on Elizabeth Street.
Thursday we were at the Ian Potter Centre of the NGV well before 11. I was eager to see the Williams exhibit. I think Rachel was storing it all up – at some point, at work or in a class, everything would fall into place. Right now there was just a lot of stimuli.
The Williams works were on level 3. We went there and just went along, looking at everything. There was a lot.
"How do you want to do this?" I asked Rachel.
"Let's just go past as much as possible. Have a bite and a drink over there in the Crossbar Cafe," she pointed, "and then go around again."
"Sounds good." We did that. Most of the works were oil or tempera on board or canvas, but there were a few early works on paper. The different stages were easy to differentiate. I didn't find the earliest work very interesting, but the impressionist paintings were very impressive, and when he got back to Australia and tried to see the aboriginal landscape, they were remarkable.
Too soon we were near the Cafe. "Sit?" I asked.
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