Driving in Melbourne – and Joy’s Door Collection

 

You won’t find any connection between my essay and Joy’s pictures here. The essay is a report on driving in Melbourne, my first attempt at negotiating traffic in another country. It will probably be my last for some time to come!  The pictures are from Joy’s collection of doors, one of her favorite subjects. 

ARMENIAN COUNTRY CHURCH DOOR
Armenian country church door.

Sometimes flattery can get you into a lot of trouble. Ever since we arrived in Melbourne son-in-law Michael has generously offered us the use of the family car at any time to go anywhere. He assured me he has complete confidence in my driving competence even in my dotage. Flattering. I’ve consistently responded with a “thanks but no thanks.” I had not intended to drive at all during this Next Phase adventure of ours and wasn’t keen on tackling the challenges of driving on the “wrong” side of the road. Also, I’m too old to rent cars in most countries. That’s fine with me. I like leaving the driving to others.  It’s not so much the driving I dislike, anyway, but the parking. Especially in a city, where it is so hard to find a parking place. Melbourne is a city.

VIENNE, RHONE-ALPES, FRANCE
Vienne, Rhone-Alpes, France

Today Joy and I had to go into this city to pick up our passports and visas for India, our next stop. Michael persuaded us to take the car. It’s very hot and rain is threatening and you should be nice to your wife (he didn’t say this last part, but I got the message). This is a good time to drive in Melbourne, anyway, he opined. We’re between Christmas and New Year’s holidays. There’ll be lots of parking spaces; nobody   much will be in town today.

SAN MIGUEL de ALLENDE
SAN MIGUEL de ALLENDE

 

The man lied. There was hardly room to walk on the bustling sidewalks, and on-street parking was non-existent. But more of that later.

 

 

 

Sunlight revealing time tattered door Palais Des Papes, Avignon, France
Sunlight revealing time tattered door
Palais Des Papes, Avignon, France

I yielded—the temperature today is in the high 90s. The humidity is unbearable. And my wife dressed up to go to town and she’d like to stay relatively respectable without wilting from the heat and any thoughtful husband would drive so she wouldn’t have to go on the tram (she didn’t say this last but I caught the drift). So I drove.

CASTELINA-IN-CHIANTI-TUSCANY-ITALY
Castelina-in-Chianti, Tuscany, Italy.

But first I had to master the intricacies of the Prius hybrid. You can tell right away it was built for Australia. Everything is in the wrong place. A selling point for this car is that you don’t need a key to get in or start it if the key fob is in your pocket. Right. No problem. Except that once you’re in the car you have to figure out how to turn the air conditioning on. And the engine on. And the parking brake off. And program the GPS.  And why did they put the turn signals on the right instead of the left-hand side of the steering wheel? In a normal car the right side and not the left is for windshield wipers, which got a real workout on this rainless day. I know other drivers and pedestrians appreciated the way I flashed the windshield wipers at them with every turn.

Queen's entry door to the royal residence, Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh.
Queen’s entry door to the royal residence, Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh.

I immediately knew I had done something wrong. Whenever I let up on the accelerator the car braked to a stop. (I’m astute about such mechanical things, you see.) Fortunately, within half a block from home Joy found the owner’s manual in the glove box. We studied the picture showing the location of the parking brake, hidden just to the left of the other brake. Seems you have to manually disengage it (actually, with your left foot), even though there’s a beautiful button on the dashboard that says Parking Brake. They need one that says Unparking Brake for beginners. Anyway, no harm done.

Touran-sur-Rhono-Alpes, France
Touran-sur-Rhone-Alpes, France

The driving itself wasn’t so bad. As I mentioned, there’s a GPS on the dashboard. After several wrong turns in the middle of the city during noontime traffic, we learned how to read it.

Kendal, Lake District, Kendal, UK.
Kendal, Lake District,  UK.
Door in Arles, France.
Door in Arles, France.

There was no on-street parking so we wheeled (actually, crept) into a parking garage. For only (!) 30 Australian dollars   (about $22 US) we parked for an hour-and-a-half. Taking the tram would have cost a total of $16 Aussie dollars for two of us ($11.52 US). Of course, we had air conditioning in the Prius. Still, the tram would have been cheaper, to say nothing of saving wear and tear on the driver’s nervous system.

Door in the old city of San Miguel, Mexico.
Door in the old city of San Miguel, Mexico.

Our purpose, as I said, was to pick up our Indian visas. We knew exactly where to find the office, since we’d been there before to apply. Except when we got there this time, a sweat-drenched walk of several blocks from the parking garage, there was no there there. We knew the entrance to the building was two doors away from the Tropicana—we’d been there twice for smoothies, so we could easily find our way back.

Wooden door with creative lintel in France.
Wooden door with creative lintel in Oingt, Rhone-Alpes, France.
Another door in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico
Another door in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico

Besides, I had confirmed its address on the Tropicana’s web site. We found it but the elevator lobby next door was missing. We asked a number of people how to find the Indian Consulate and baffled them all–including a helpful gentlemen who went on-line to get the proper address; he was no help in spite of his kind intentions, because that office has moved and the website hasn’t been updated since 2014 or so.  I had already tried calling the same number listed on their outdated website, but no one answered. I think they only want Indians going to India.

Night scene in San Miguel
Night scene in San Miguel

In near desperation I rechecked my notes, found the address we had been given when we were at the former office, and began looking for 55 Swanson Street, several blocks away—we were on Elizabeth Street—and we found it, just one block from where we had parked the car. Does the word “frustrated” have meaning for you?

Seine villa door, Sovicille, Tuscany, Italy.
Seine villa door, Sovicille, Tuscany, Italy.

Before we got there, though, we tried another high-rise on Elizabeth Street. We went into the lobby, stepped into the elevator, and found the 12th story missing. This must not be the right building. The young couple coming out of the elevator said so, as did another man who might have been the superintendent. They joined forces to escort us out. This is a residential building, they said rather abruptly, and lost aliens aren’t particularly welcome. They smiled, though.

A door in our Richmond, Victoria (Australia) neighborhood.
A door in our Richmond, Victoria (Australia) neighborhood.

So we made our way to 55 Swanson Street And there, only two doors away, was the Tropicana, just as we remembered it. What we didn’t know until that moment is that Melbourne has two Tropicanas—two nearly identical Tropicanas. We had initially, it turns out, gone to the other one. And that, as they say, has made all the difference.

Castelina-in-Chianti, Tuscany, Italy.
Castellina in Chianti, Tuscany, Italy.
 Bedioun tent, Sahara Desert. Picture was taken last Christmas-New Year's holiday in Morocco.
Bedouin tent, Sahara Desert. Picture was taken during last Christmas-New Year’s holiday in Morocco. A different kind of door!

The positive part of this report is that once we arrived at the Consulate, we were quickly served. Oh, I suppose I should mention that I was initially served with a Japanese passport—but we fairly quickly got it sorted out. I don’t look much like the man in the passport, although I like to think I’m tall enough. We now have our visas for India.

Other than scraping against a curb and playing “I dare ya” with a red Toyota that wanted to be where I already was (I surrendered–it’s not my Prius, after all) and thinking a variety of thoughts about my son-in-law’s stubborn insistence that I drive to town, the excursion turned out OK.

"The Hat" finds a door he can hit his head on in Armenia.
“The Hat” finds a door he can hit his head on in Armenia.

I think, though, if Michael had seen my driving, he’d have reconsidered his offer.

About Melbourne I should add this word. A good friend just sent us this New Year’s greeting. It says it all:  “So since you have been in Melbourne, we have read in AP news about heat waves, bomb threats and now concert stampedes. Will you all, please, stay out of trouble in 2017!”  Pretty good advice. We’ll try to heed it.

Happy New Year to you, too!

6 thoughts on “Driving in Melbourne – and Joy’s Door Collection”

  1. Happy New Year wherever you are/will be in the world during 2017. Glad to know that you will be at the World Convention in India. Hope you don’t have to drive while there. Love your collection of doors, Joy.

  2. Fun riding with you, but somewhat dangerous. Had two special missions to Australia when in the Air Force. Loved the country and the people. May 2017 be your most blessed, gracious, peaceful, and joyful year. Knofel

  3. 1. Since I drive a Prius I have empathy for your situation. No one, by the way, lets a novice drive a Prius w/o instructions ahead of time. What was Michael thinking? And, driving on the left is way too difficult for anyone–much less those of us who’ve driven on the right for 60 years. (Michael: I’m kidding. No one could even start a Prius w/o instructions.)

    2. The first time Carl and I toured England we had a stick-shift car and I spent most of my time yelling “keep left, keep left” As a double-decked bus barreled down on us, I was definitely yelling. I remember the first evening after we began touring we pulled into a B & B. As we did so, the signals were flashing for the wrong direction, the windshield wipers were going full speed, and the owner was laughing as were we. As I remember, I was laughing so hard I was crying.

    Ah, the joys of travel. Carl said he would never advise anyone to save money by renting a stick. So difficult shifting with your left hand.

  4. Happy New Year to Roy and Joy and Michael and Candy! Lorraine and I were guests of the Shearers so we made it to Tillamook for Jo Ann’s memorial. It was so special! Of course, we liked seeing and hearing Roy on film. Glad you could participate that way.

    Thanks for the Melbourne update and for Joy’s interesting doors.
    Much love,
    Faye

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