And then I arrived back in Melbourne, a bit rejuvenated, and ready take on the last legs of this adventure. The first stop upon arrival was the purchase of a SIM card. Europe and Australia and, well, pretty much the entire world apart from North America, use phones with a little removable card that it the identity of the phone. Switch continent, switch SIM for about 20 bucks.

The next mission was to negotiate my way to Lee and Annie's in the suburb of St. Kilda. This wasn't a problem, and I think it gave me a false sense of confidence with regard to the tram system. I was a bit early, so headed to our arranged meeting spot, the Royce Hotel, to have a beer and kill some time.

While I was waiting, I ended up talking to two teachers from a local private school, and about the same age as me. One was a math teacher, while the other taught art. An interesting conversation, as the math teacher got into talking about different parts of the brain, learning styles, and how different folk are sensitive to different stimuli and thus need to be catered to in different manners in order to get the point across. I myself thought learning was about passing standardized tests, but I guess was wrong. The second time in about three days I find myself looking for the little cardboard box dans ma tete labelled "Neuro Stuff". She had also done a stint teaching in Japan, and confirmed that there is no age cap for this line of work. So other countries may have use for a mid-30s fogie after all....

The art teacher was in the midst of a dilemma concerning career versus craft. A full time job means financial security and status, yet no time to pursue art, sculpture in her case. Pursuing art full time meant the satisfaction of delving into the deepest parts of her creativity and perfection of the final product, scratching the itch, yet uncertainty of public reaction and a life of sleeping on a futon eating instant noodles. A combination of the two meant some stability, some artistic output, yet the feeling that she would never progress far in either direction due to fence sitting. The feeling that she should "just do it" one way or another.

In the middle of the conversation, they put down their drinks and hid their cigarettes. Looking up, I saw them waving at a group of teens passing by the bar, apparently some of their students on their way from school. Would have liked to eavesdrop on THAT conversation afterward.

Annie soon turned up, followed by Lee (my hosts), and after a bit of a hang, headed back to their house.

I only had a couple of days in Melbourne before my week-long trip to Tasmania, so in addition to researching upcoming adventures (during which I got big news from home), I wanted to get a sense of the city. I wandered through downtown (much easier without all my gear), found the toy store, Allan's Music, and checked out the funky 'burb of Fitzroy, teeming with little live music venues that had me excited to get into things post-Tassie. On the way home, I discovered that "you can take all trams except #8" should also include #96, as this took me on a side mission that had me trucking back across Allan Park and across some golf course.

One night, I hooked up with friend and (former?) bandmate Jesse, a Melbournite now based in Toronto but back for a visit to the motherland. We went to a pub in the 'burb of Richmond. All these little burbs aren't of the Missisauga/Etobicoke sort, but more like Cabbagetown/Little Italy/Parkdale - essentially neighbourhoods. It was good to see Jess, get caught up on stuff back home, and meet some of his mates. As we were walking home, we stopped and watch a Mercedes on fire (no Mom, I didn't have anything to do with it). Ahhh, all we needed was marshmellows. Watched the fire fighters put it out, then called it a night. Hanging out with Jesse, and meeting some of his musical network here made me think more about the practical side of the music business - it's more than showing up unannounced and wanking a solo. I remembered cold calling clubs, promotion, failed and successful rehearsals - and wondered whether it was something I could do full time, part time, or at all.

Another night, I met up with my friend Tammy, who I met back in Canada when I did some trumpet stuff for her. One of those "if you are ever in Australia..." invites that I actually followed up on, poor girl. We ended up discussing some musical plans over red wine, and a couple of things came up that I'm excited about. I've become a bit of a cynic, though, and won't get over-the-top exuberant with anything musical until I'm actually on stage or in studio. Still, things are in the works. She was staying in Brunswick at the house where I will be renting a room, and I got a chance to check out the digs. I really liked it, a cute little room out back, with all the amenities, little courtyard, and lots of music toys I can play with during the day. Perfect. We headed out to meet some friends for pool, then onto a local pub called Retreat for retro 80s, where talked swirled about a Hollywood Halloween party the next night. I had to fly to Tasmania the morning after that, and in my reverie, debated staying up all night and catching my flight

The next thing I knew, it was morning, and I was on the couch. Touched base with Lee, and found that he and Joe Percy (Annie and Karen's folks were in town) were heading downtown to explore the Old Melbourne Gaol. This was something I'd wanted to check out given my recent interest in incarceration, so in about an hours time, sans shower or change, I met them out front.

Inside was a cellblock consisting of a long open corridor and cells with short doors, as well as the gallows off to one side. We were there about 15 minutes before a bell announced the beginning of a play depicting the life and death of Ned Kelly. Kelly is an Australian folk hero, a bearded bushman who had had a few scrapes with the law, but became a full outlaw while defending his sister from a constable who wanted sex in order to make a little infringement go away. Funny, the police abused their power back then, too. After a few years on the run, a final showdown occurred which saw the Kelly gang outfit themselves with bulletproof armour made from ploughs. Unfortunately, it wasn't impervious to fire, nor did it cover the limbs, and the gang was defeated. After some time imprisoned here at the jail, Kelly was hung on these very gallows.

After a bit of wandering through the cells, checking out the death masks (a bizarre practice of cutting off the heads post execution and making a plaster cast), and getting a sense of history (it was also used to detain WWII soldiers convicted of AWOL), I went home, mulling over whether I would return on November 18th for the overnight paranormal investigation, and discovering that Tram #1 also doesn't run by Annie and Lee's. Last night's red wine, lack of sleep, and my continued failure to use the trams properly came to a head when I realized that on paper, I was supposed to be flying home in two weeks, and had not done anything about Asia or switching my flight. After a few attempts to land something cheap, my brain simply stopped working, and I started to get really stressed out. I'd been procrastinating, avoiding this yucky stuff, but I couldn't deal with the nagging guilt any longer. I hit the wall. Thankfully, I had Lee and the Percys around, as they gave me some suggestions as to what to do, chilled me out, as well as made me laugh by taking my numbers (blood pressure). I had to get up to go to Tasmania the next morning at 6:45, made further difficult by the jump to Daylight Savings, so after dinner with them on Southbank, I left them to raise the roof at the Royce, wistful yet thankful I wasn't out Hallowe'ening, and hit the sack.