On my second day I take a tram ride outside the city to the beach resort of St Kilda. This was Melbourne’s original 19th century playground, where city residents came to stroll along the palm tree-lined esplanade and take the sea air on the pier. I get off the tram at the end of the line and walk along Acland Street, which has funky cafes, hippy shops and patisseries with glass shelves in the windows crammed with yummy cakes.
Acland Street Sculture
Patissierie Window
By the seafront there is an old fairground called Luna Park, named after the original park in Coney Island, New York. The wooden rollercoaster was built in 1912 by the same people who built the American version. Unfortunately the park is only open for school groups today, so I can’t ride it, but I can hear the shrill screams from the youngsters inside and can watch the rollercoaster car trundle along the top of the wooden structure.
Luna Park Entrance
Rollercoaster
Today is windy on the seafront and being a weekday there is nobody much about. There is a definite end-of-season feeling about the place. I walk out along the pier with a view across the marina to the Melbourne skyline. Fisherman cast their lines into the harbour from the breakwater, but I don’t see them catch anything. The building at the end is a café and was rebuilt in its original style after it burned down. This pier has been used as the gateway to Melbourne for visiting dignitaries and royalty.
End of the Pier
Marina and Melbourne Skyline
On the way back to the city, a woman of about my age gets on to the tram. She is tall and holds herself elegantly, but the skin on her face has the coarseness of an alcoholic and her nails are filthy. She wears an ankle-length boot on one foot and her other foot is bare. She carries on a lively chatty conversation in a low voice; but she is talking to no-one.
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