Being a Refugee in Melbourne

Considering I thought I would die of a heat stroke in Canberra, I was hoping for better luck in Melbourne. The looooonnnng drive took a lot out of us, but we got to Melbourne around 5 p.m., just as the dark clouds were looming overhead. We checked into the red, blocky Base Backpackers St. Kilda, with all the party spot bells and whistles– a bar, kitchen, bucket drinks, gym, internet. Little did we know that within the hour, we wouldn’t be able to enjoy any of it.

We’d no sooner gone upstairs to change for a night out than the Heavens said, “You want some water? I’ll GIVE you some water!” Soaked backpackers ran into the lobby and we knew it wasn’t looking good. And wouldn’t you know, the power went out at the hostel because the generator had been ideally located in the car park, along with the kitchen, laundry facilities and game room, UNDER the hostel, destroying everything in its path. So that meant no light, no internet, no elevator, no hot showers, no hot meals and no clean clothing. But someone thought it would be a good idea to keep the bar open, charging backpackers full price to forget about how much the place sucked. The staff told us the power wouldn’t be back on until Tuesday. We had kept ourselves entertained for a while, wandering around St. Kilda, using the free wifi at McDonald’s (Macca’s), visiting the city, but our collective patience was wearing thin.

Then there was the least pleasant surprise of the trip. To avoid the $10 per day fee in the hostel car park, which soon flooded to the roof, we parked on a side street that was blocked off for a street party (ironically enough to benefit the Queensland floods). We didn’t know that we had become flood victims ourselves. The water poured in ankle-deep to Tommy’s car, ruining the few books and clothes we had left behind and leaving the poor Corolla unfit to drive.

In an effort to cheer ourselves up, we put on our outfits intended for the previous night and went out for a nice Mexican dinner, which immediately made me feel better. After a second night without power, we knew what we had to do. Base started to feel more like a homeless shelter than a hostel. I wasn’t impressed with the way the floods were handled by management. I wanted to believe it was just one of those things, but how you handle an emergency says a lot about how you run your business– chaotic and unorganized. We were refunded the amount of the remaining days and went to Brunswick to stay with Sarah, a girl Tommy had met on the BusAbout loops.

I’m so grateful for the kindness of strangers because she let us stay in her room while she crashed on the couch. She took us to the pub she works at, The Retreat Hotel, and introduced us to her friends. We explored the city some more, but I’m glad we left the hostel because it allowed us to see more of Melbourne than just Luna Park and Flinders Street.

We finally got some good news that the car had been fixed. The repairs were pricey, as was the cleaning, but at least we would have a way to get back to Sydney. We said farewell to Sarah and her awesome roommates and went to stay with John and Julie, family friends of Tommy’s, in Brighton, home of the iconic bathing houses. They were equally kind and hospitable to the strange American girl.

It’s hard to focus on what I liked about Melbourne with all the bad luck we had, but I would definitely come back. I want to remember it for the grassy lawn next to Luna Park, the delicious Amigos in St. Kilda, people watching at a Lygon Street cafe and the great people I met.