Challenging Stereotypes: A Yank’s Guide to Working and (Mostly) Playing in Australia

First things first: If you’re going to Australia, you’ve got to get a handle on their beer. No one there drinks Fosters, but then that shouldn’t come as much of a surprise. What was surprising however was that “light beer” didn’t connote fewer calories, but rather “less alcohol.” That’s right, my tap-guzzling friends, should you order a pint of light, you’re only effectively cheating yourself out of percentages of sweet, sweet alcohol, and not doing your waistline any favors. Luckily, I learned this as I ordered breakfast on my layover in Sydney, and what would be the first of many pints.

Now that we have that out of the way, I should offer an additional disclaimer, as any self-respecting journalist would (Hi, Mike Albo!). I was able to gallivant around Australia as part of a press junket; it was a free ride all the way, thanks to Tourism Australia, who are hoping that I can get you Americans jazzed about a new program between the US and Australia. The nice folks at Tourism America allow the recently graduated to spend up to 12 months Down Under on a “Work-and-Play” visa, while scoring cheap(er) airfare, to boot. I happily agreed to the task, but within this piece, there will be some details they are perhaps less proud of, or at least wish I might downplay. That won’t happen, but I do have to say that what follows is a hearty recommendation for you 18-30 year-olds wondering “Great, I’ve got a degree in English. What now?” or “Lovely, a lay-off. Cheers for that. And?”

Previous Misconceptions

When I left JFK airport for the first leg of what would be a roughly 23-hour flight-time to Melbourne, I was looking forward to some cuddly koalas, some rugged outback dudes, and a few quaint towns that, if anything, would prove a casual and calm respite from the bustle of New York City. When I (finally) landed in Melbourne, I was greeted with anything but.

Melbourne is no sleepy seaside penal colony. It is in fact, the most multi-cultural metropolis below the equator, boasting a sprawl to rival the San Francisco Bay Area’s and a cultural scene — from fine art and theatre to film, music, and graffiti — to rival NYC’s. No joke. Oh, and let’s get rid of the tired “penal colony” stereotype while we’re at it. Bart Simpson and family may never have gotten over the fact that Australia started out as a UK prison outpost, but when you reconsider that crimes punishable by such banishment at the time included simply being in debt or supporting Ireland’s independence, this expanse of supposed n’er-do-wellers takes on a new tone.

Despite being just over 100 years old, the city of Melbourne has thriving communities of: young artists, Greeks, Italians, Southeast Asians, and backpackers — sometimes overlapping. The largest Greek community outside of Athens itself is in Melbourne; Italians have built up a hearty culture you can spot from the prevalence of quality Italian restaurants all around the city; a similar preponderance of Southeast Asians is apparent from their geographical cuisine; artists and musicians are making steady gains in the subculture — one recent boon is the building and opening up of city-center apartment buildings at affordable rates (until quite recently, it turns out, most everyone lived in Melbourne’s suburbs and trekked in to the city for nightlife and day jobs); backpackers are evident by the incredible array of accents you encounter in doing everything from ordering a coffee or a pint to booking a room at a hostel.

Because of the city’s youth, you’ll spot Victorian homes and office buildings adjacent to gleaming, modern skyscrapers (they’re particularly proud of the Eureka Tower, which, frankly won’t wow anyone who’s been to Chicago), but another great advantage is a public-transportation system that is reliable, and, in places, free. You can actually take the City Circle tram all over Melbourne for free; it might not be the fastest route from A to B, but when on a budget, it’s hard to beat.

Gainful Employment

Say you decide to acquire a work visa. Having touched down after a long journey to Oz, you may realize that your trip isn’t over yet. You’ve still got to find a job. Well, as I noted from the variety of accents all over the city and the general youth of the service industry, there are actually plenty of jobs to be had. Maybe not a cornucopia (there’s no escaping the recession’s long tentacles), but it’s worth noting that when I asked people about the downturn in the economy, most remarked that they really hadn’t seen a huge effect. And that spells success in the high-overturn market of entry-level service jobs (since you’re probably not going to Australia to work in an office — unless you’re the new Managing Editor of something). Barista, bartender, waiter, hostel reception: I spoke with Americans on visas in each of these positions, and all lent the impression that if you’ve got a resume and a willingness to hit the pavement for a few days, you’ll come up with something. The huge expat community in Melbourne is nothing if not supportive; everyone seemed pleased to both make your acquaintance and help you out (A recommendation: if you can swing it, try and work at Melbourne’s Base hostel. Easily the cleanest, coolest city-based hostel I’ve ever come across. And, they gave me free beer on my visit!)

When in Rome, I mean Melbourne

I’m not a fan of tours. Not of tourists, not of the group mentality, not of someone telling me the supposed important architectural or historical features of a city. But here’s one you can do on your own: I call it the Leah DIY Arcades and Alleys tour. A fascinating part of Melbourne’s cityscape is its twisting lanes and arcades — not arcade like Dave & Buster’s, but arcade as in “covered walkway, connecting two or more buildings.” Here’s where you’ll find a handful of secluded and miniscule cafes and record stores — even a zine co-op/gallery. And here too is where you’ll find Melbourne’s amazing graffiti. Seriously, up walls and behind dumpsters and snaking around windows and doorways is some of the most beautiful mural-work I’ve seen outside of Philly. It’s also where you’ll find lunching businessmen, afternoon drinkers (of which there are many), and young people hung over from last night. It’s by far my favorite part of the city because it feels as though you’ve just escaped the tourist-ridden high streets and emerged in some steam-punk rabbit-hole version of Melbourne. There is actually a tour you can book to see all of this, but if you’re traveling on a budget, get a map, clear an afternoon, and get lost.

I love the nightlife, baby

It’s true, I do. And coming from New York, where everything runs until 4am at least, the first judgment I lay against any new city is how late the bars and clubs stay open. I was more than relieved to find that joints here run at least that late, and quite often, later. A city after my own heart, there’s also a great local music scene and gay & lesbian options. When I visited the Forum, the founding fulcrum of said music scene, Rahzel, the Roots’ beatboxing genius, was playing on the back stage (one of three). From perusing their upcoming gig list, Forum looked to specialize in indie hip-hop for an entirely different definition of backpackers. The bar band up front may not have been anything to write home about that night, but the show was free — and that’s something you definitely can’t say about gigs in NYC.

Just down the road is one of the coolest concepts for a bar I’ve seen. The Prince of Wales is a bar/pub with a “straight” side and a “gay” side. But rather than encouraging the segregation of the two groups, as the night went on, I found most people cross back and forth, mostly depending on what the DJ was spinning on either side. When I needed a break from successive disco-offs over on the sweatier gay side, I stepped to the bar at the other end, to post up with a drink and listen to Spoon, along with the more relaxed indie kids. A major complex, the Prince also has a live performance space, with a fairly impressive Lineup.

In the summertime (remember, that’s December through February/March down here), another great spot is Cookie, and its rooftop bar and club. Besides being a really fantastic Thai fusion restaurant, Cookie morphs into quite the nightclub come evening, with different DJs on different nights spinning everything from top-40 to house, reggae, and soul.

Bourdainic Snapshot Number One

Here now is my one fervent anti-recommendation, with a twist. No late night is complete without some unruly and sweaty dancing. My companion on this trip, J, was agreed, so we hit Revellers, one indie club of many on a main strip in Prahran; there’s a cover, yes, but come Friday nights, that’s virtually unavoidable (consider yourself warned). We were having an appropriately sweaty and good time, until J took off his collared shirt to reveal a wife-beater. “Put your shirt back on,” a bouncer admonished. J shirts up again, but then we notice that there are plenty of folks, male and female, in tank-tops and less, which leads J to again doff his shirt. A mistake, it turns out, because when I return from the bathroom, he’s been kicked out. Really roughed up, actually. Not a shove to the door, but a punch and then a full-on toss out. The kicker? “We don’t want any of that gay shit in here, man. Get the fuck out,” the bouncer shouted. Gay shit? After I spent an entire paragraph talking about how inclusive and chill Melbourne was?

J, who does happen to be gay (and whose parents live outside of Melbourne), wasn’t having it, and immediately dialed the police. Usually, I’m against inebriated encounters with officials, but J was adamant. The silver-lining to this unfortunate tale is how responsive the police actually were. Not only were they there within minutes, but they wasted no time in taking down J’s report, as well as the bouncer’s, and immediately requested and reviewed the security-camera footage. There was nothing to be done, since the offending punch and slur were obscured on the tape, but consider this my hat-tip to the Melbourne police. They were patient and understanding, if ultimately powerless in this circumstance.

Bourdainic Snapshot Number 2

I didn’t go to Australia knowing much about Aboriginal culture, let alone their artwork. But one of the best moments of my time in Melbourne was spent, surprisingly enough, on a tour: a tour of the Ian Potter Centre near Federation Square. The curator led us on a guided walk through the Aboriginal art collection, explaining pointillist methods, common themes, and the raison d’etre of Aboriginal art. I was incredibly moved; much of this had to do with the serenity and warmth exuded by our guide, an Aboriginal herself, who explained her heritage with a pride and patience I’ve very rarely experienced. It is every Aboriginal’s goal and duty to tell a story — whether with visual art, music, food, or actual oral tradition — their culture is maintained and expounded through the arts; “you can never stop telling your story,” she told us. And we all solemnly agreed.

A Jumping-Off Point

Finally, a grand thing about Melbourne is that it’s perfectly situated in Victoria, along the southern coast of Australia. To the west, you can travel the Great Ocean Road (you backpacking types: rent a Wicked Camper and drive as many of the gorgeous 150 miles of it as you like, taking time for a surf lesson in Lorne and a look at the 12 Apostles), and (way) beyond to Perth, the most remote city in the world (Really! Look it up!). To the east, up the coast, you’ll eventually hit Sydney, its Miami Beach-like Bondi Beach, even more tourists, and a plasticine element that reminds me of LA. If you can’t tell, I’m much more a fan of the sincerity and culture of Melbourne than the touristy beach scene of Sydney. But don’t let me stop you. You may never be on this side of the world again, and you owe it to yourself to explore as much as possible. Hopefully, I’ve helped encourage you some.

Off to Perth

If I was pleasantly shocked by Melbourne’s true cosmopolitan nature, Perth, at the far edge of the continent in Western Australia, was something more like I expected when I first heard “free trip to Australia.” Which isn’t a bad thing; Perth just seems to take things a bit slower than Melbourne. Most of my activities there revolved around drinking, the beach, and fish and chips – sometimes all three at once – which was in fact a lovely way to wind down a whirlwind 11-day trip.

As I mentioned before, Perth is the most remote city in the world, on the western coast of a state five or six times the size of Texas. It’s the fourth-largest city in Australia, and, as folks love to tell you, the birthplace of AC/DC’s Bon Scott, but even locals were surprised to find a press group coming all the way to WA (Perth is just over four hours away, by plane, from Melbourne. A full time zone!); it’s not exactly a cultural capital. But, with similar job opportunities in the hospitality and service industries and a more laid-back vibe, Perth is a great vacation within a vacation.

Freo and Rotto

The trick to Aussie slang is to chop a word in half and add an “o” to the end. Simple. That’s how we ended up in Freo (Fremantle) and Rotto (Rottnest Island), two suburbs of Perth that highlight the pleasingly provincial aspects of the city. More than anything, Fremantle reminded me of Santa Barbara. This could have been due to a massive influx of dreadlocked hippies and kids during the day of our visit – the town-wide Freo Fest – but the whole vibe felt really familiar: it was that SoCal mix of the wealthy (aka nice restaurants, clean park, nice downtown), surfers, and hippies. It’s super chill, brah.

As you may have already noted, Australians love to drink. There’s a massive pub culture going, and if you don’t drink, frankly, I think you’ll be bored in Perth and WA. And by far the greatest thing about Freo is the Little Creatures Brewery. A massive brewery, bar, and restaurant right on the water, Little Creatures is a local institution – and was positively packed on the afternoon we visited. A warning: it’s very, very easy to accidentally spend nearly six hours here, which we did. Several pints of Pipsqueak Cider will keep me just about anywhere; the fact that the long communal tables (and lowered inhibitions) in the dining room made meeting locals easy and fun also helped. It didn’t make the trip to Rotto any easier, though…

Now, if you’re planning to go to Rottnest, here’s a valuable tip: don’t show up to the ferry hung over. Hopefully you’ll have calm waters on the ride over, but even so. The waves on our trip were relentless and choppy, and travelers all over the boat were losing their lunches (or breakfasts). Once you make it there, the best plan is to rent some bikes and just ride along the shore. There are swimming holes and beaches every couple hundred yards, and small bars and cafes dot the road. Of course, if you go on a wretched day like we did, you’ll end up huddling in the town square/strip mall, jostling for dry space beneath a Subway awning. But pick a bright day and you’ll be swimming in the Indian Ocean and sunbathing instead. You can even book hostels out on Rotto, but they looked pretty bare bones to me (former army barracks, actually); I’m certainly not the most rugged backpacker of the bunch.

Getting Feral in Swan Valley

In all of Australia, (but to me it seemed especially in Western Australia), there’s a fairly recent, great pride in craft-brewing – actually, the same can be said for local coffee, chocolate, and wine. Our host, to show off these efforts, took us on a tasting trip through the Swan Valley. Think of it as Australia’s wine country (or beer or chocolate or coffee country); there are vineyards and coffee kiosks and brewery outposts all along the highway. It’s a fantastic way to spend an afternoon (rent a car and then recall that you’ll be driving on the other side of the road, probably slightly inebriated. Then book a tour or a guide instead.), but if at all possible, I’d try and spend one day on wine and a different day on beer, etc. We had some pretty muddled tummies by the time we had drank and eaten our way through the Valley. I also recommend running into a lady with a pet kangaroo (an abandoned joey she was raising), just because they’re freakin’ adorable.

And now, another interjection of Aussie slang (it’s for your benefit, you know): If someone is “feral,” it’s kind of like saying that they’re white trash – but in a less offensive, joking way. In a linguistic shift similar to that of “guido” (thanks, Jersey Shore!), those that you might deem feral are almost certain to express a certain pride over their rough, outback and trashy roots. That’s how Feral Brewery came into being, according to the head brewer there, whom we had in fact met just two days earlier at those awesome communal tables at Little Creatures (getting his brother to put on Pipsqueak undies over his jeans)! It’s a small world, even on the other side of it.

The Great Outdoors – Kinda

Western Australia is huge, and there are not that many people in it, all things considered. That means that the sportos and heartier adventurers among you have plenty of space to roam. Or sandboard. Pinnacles Desert isn’t far from Perth, and, slightly underwhelming limestone pillars aside (OK, they might look impressive here, but they’re very small in person. The sheer number of them is about the only impressive characteristic; even geologists are fairly uninterested, according to our tour guide.), the dunes themselves are huge and powdery. I have never snowboarded, and my first attempt at surfing (days earlier in Lorne), didn’t see me actually stand up once, so I didn’t have high expectations for my sandboarding prowess. But it’s easy! Plus you can sit down if you like. Other desert pastimes include ATVing and off-roading — really, the most popular thing to do on a weekend is to pile your friends into a truck with some beers, and set off flying over the dunes. Not a bad way to pass a Saturday, in my opinion.

In Perth itself, there’s Kings Park, a beautiful and huge expanse of city land that’s been transformed into a world-class botanical garden. It’s also the most popular place in town to get married — or at least to take your wedding pictures. The one place I’d avoid is Caversham Wildlife Park. It’s fine if you like petting zoos — overcrowded ones at that — and maybe if I hadn’t already gone through the bush and seen koalas and kangaroos in the wild, I’d have been more into it. But we found it all kind of depressing; especially poor Bubs the Wombat. Every afternoon at certain times, lucky kids and tourists can head over to a weird stage/shack to be photographed with Bubs, who’s this fat hairy thing bouncing on a handler’s knee and shitting at the same time. I mean really, all over the place. Meanwhile, the mounted speakers are blaring a song that makes Barney’s “I Love You, You Love Me” shtick sound positively orchestral. Yeah, you definitely need a drink after that. Just remember, no light beer!

Day ‘n Night

Normally in a travelogue, I’d include more information on your nightlife options. But honestly, that’s not a highlight in Perth. There are the bars and clubs you’d expect, plus a casino — which all, coincidentally, have stupidly strict dress codes (ask me another time about the ill-fated attempts to sneak a friend in ripped jeans into the casino. It involved strangers lending us their pants.) And after all’s said and done, there’s nothing too revelatory about the experience. Instead, I’ll just tell you to head to Northridge and pick a spot, or bar hop until you’re drunk enough, and then get a cab. Perth does have it’s fair share of live music venues — hell, Britney Spears was there getting booed off the stage when we were in town (a very cool Australian law in the works will make any performer lip synching at concerts announce that fact when tickets go on sale. Oz hates lip-synching!) — and hosts Big Day Out . It has a thriving local indie music scene; so if that’s your thing, spend your evening catching a band at Amplifier (they also book international acts, from Brian Jonestown Massacre to the Big Pink). But if it’s summer, then I’d much prefer getting my drinks on the beach, in the daytime.

So there you have it! The city of Perth is not a reason to go to Australia, but a lovely place to visit while you’re there — especially if you dig a) drinking b) the beach or c) anything attempting to combine the two. Cheers, Australia. It’s been grand.