Melbourne CBD Part I

(Central Business District, in case anyone asks.) And here I am, at home. What a city, so familiar, almost European. Skyscrapers everywhere, busy people who have no time, bump into you, are direct. Not rude, just rough around the edges, with character, exactly how I like it. People who do not burst into tears at a “Good morning” and spiral into an emotionally fundamental existential crisis. People who do not waste time on “How is it going” blah blah hypocrisy. You get to the point and everyone respects that. The guy behind you in line does too.

I am home. Even the weather fits, not hot, almost nicely cool, autumn is coming. That is good.

I landed at the airport, found the way to the Skybus. Thirty minutes later I was at Southern Cross and briefly a bit lost. The hotel was not far, but I could not be bothered to walk, so I looked for a tram. It came. I wondered how to pay, a quick look confirmed it, in the CBD the tram is actually free. So I got on and rode those few stops.

Melbourne is a grid city, meaning it was designed and then built, it did not just grow. Practical for people with no sense of direction, I know a few. You can drop me at any random point in a city and I will find my way quickly, unless I am in Genoa. That layered concept even confused me at first. Navigation has never been a problem, time neither. You can wake me up at night and I will tell you what time it is without looking at a clock. Skills nobody needs.

So I checked into the hotel, a properly shabby hole near Central. Dropped the bag and went out to explore. That is always my first move wherever I am, wandering through streets and laneways, collecting impressions. Hectic, restless, full. Left, right, shops, restaurants, just alive, not quite as artificial as Brisbane.

I wandered aimlessly until a sign caught my attention. It said “Treaty”, an exhibition at the State Library Victoria. It shows the history of the so called Batman Treaty of 1835 and places it next to contemporary interpretations. At its core is Batman’s claim that land was “ceded” by Aboriginal Elders in exchange for goods. What bothers me is how an English legal document gets read as a final land purchase, even though language, power, and the very concept of land ownership were radically unequal back then. The fact that people could still lean on those papers for so long shows how contradictory and one sided the whole topic has been treated.

I was interested, so I went into the library, only to realize I had to search for it. Not easy to find. I drifted through the crowded halls, and at some point I was ready to give up and head out, when I spotted a small sign, please turn right. And there I was, in a small room dealing with Treaty. A few video opinions, a few elements, and that was it. Disappointed again, again almost nothing about the actual story of this land.

As I left the exhibition I noticed another small sign. It said: “Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander visitors are advised that this exhibition contains images and voices of people that have passed.” And somehow I learned more about First Peoples from that small sign than I had in all the time before. The weight of it, the respect, the matter of fact clarity.

One thing I should say up front: “Aborigines” are not one people. There are many different groups, with different cultures and backgrounds. There are oral histories and transmissions, rites, laws, taboos, roles, kinship systems, and the Dreaming. Those are the things I want to understand. Songs that guide you safely through country. Drawings and symbols, snakes and circles that mark waterholes. Hidden knowledge known only to Elders. Complex structures and real diversity. Instead, still not much new.

So I moved on, disappointed. It was time to eat and find a spot for sunset. I found a beer garden by the Yarra River. As usual here, grab a table and order by phone. A few minutes later a small grazing plate and a virgin margarita showed up. The atmosphere was almost right. Cheese, fine. The sausage, for Australian standards, excellent. The bread, well, let’s not talk about it. The olives, genuinely great. But I enjoyed it, I had not had such a good little vesper in ages. Then onto the bridge over the Yarra, caught the sunset. Mediocre, not enough clouds for a proper show.

Next morning, and the public transport system in the CBD. Excellent. Almost too frequent, but hey, better than nothing, or Brisbane. Within a certain zone it is free, outside you need a separate card, which I bought at a machine because I would be leaving the inner zone a few times if I wanted to see more.

I went to the Queen Victoria Market and, finally, a proper breakfast. Also because I had looked at the hotel breakfast earlier and left it there with a raised eyebrow. Nut spread on white bread, please. I added a ginger shot and some pea protein shake, and insanely good cherries. What more do you want. A library to work, so down to the docks, into that building, and got my stuff done.

By then it was well past midday. Back to the hotel, threw my laptop in the room, and headed to the National Gallery of Victoria. It had started raining. No, pouring. I slid around in my worn out shoes and was glad I did not break my neck. I really need to throw those things out, they are done.

I arrived by tram, and again the entry was free, except for the special exhibition, which I also did. Women and photography. It was genuinely good. Some of the photos I looked at with real envy. Envy is the purest form of recognition. Then I wandered through the rest of the gallery and loved parts of it, especially the space, the building itself. Around 5 pm I left the museum, only to slide through Melbourne’s laneways again, not walk, slide, then after soup and another disappointing sunset, I slid into bed early.

* Batman Treaty background:The Batman Treaty (June 1835) refers to two “deeds” in which John Batman, on behalf of the Port Phillip Association, claimed to have “acquired” a vast area around Port Phillip, present day Melbourne, from Kulin, Wurundjeri, and in parts Boonwurrung Elders in exchange for goods and a kind of annual payment. From a settler perspective it was meant to make occupation look contractual and therefore legitimate. The colonial government, however, declared it effectively invalid through Governor Bourke’s Proclamation of 26 August 1835 and reinforced the logic of terra nullius: the land supposedly belonged to “no one” before British possession, Aboriginal people could not sell it in British legal terms, and land allocation was the Crown’s domain. Many Victorian Aboriginal voices interpret the meeting more as a misunderstood exchange, sometimes framed through tanderrum, meaning access or temporary hospitality rather than transfer of ownership, and point to translation issues and huge power imbalances. Historians also debate the reliability of the “signatures” or marks and what was actually agreed.