Just Another Main Street

I used to live off Brunswick Street in Fitzroy. Fitzroy was my introduction to Oz. It’s a funky bohemian area just north of the downtown central business district of Melbourne, and Brunswick street is where all the locals come out in all their glory to shop, eat, listen to music, and drink.

A store called Polyester (http://www.polyester.com.au) has its slogan plastered across the front window: "Seriously Weird Shit."

Here’s why this street, for me, speaks for the culture as a whole: Anglos, Asians, Greeks, Italians, Middle Eastern, and any other combination are out in full glory, sipping coffee or over-priced drinks, having dinner in the open-air confines of the buildings or out on the street under lights and heaters. Hippies, teenagers, gangs of men on the prowl, gaggles of women doing the same; the old, the wealthy, the homeless and the dull; tattoos and piercings rub up against the cashmere of professional couples; and there is rarely a word of strife or contention. All these varied ethnic, cultural and economic groups somehow manage to get along and respect one another.

A young gay couple was sitting outside Joe’s Garage (killer breakfasts) a couple of weeks ago, dressed in hippy rags and looking at each other with that sappy, smitten affection familiar to new couples. They shared a kiss and held hands. Not a person took notice. This street works because of the tolerance of the people. Not every soul is appreciated and enjoyed, but more often than not, they are tolerated.

When my dad came out the first time to visit he was initially taken aback by the seemingly grungy look of Brunswick Street. A street that looks like this may give the typical American pause to walk down. It looks unsafe (even though it isn't). There might be junkies lurking about. There might be a shooting or a fight. Drunks could start trouble if you forget to look away and make eye contact.

This all might be going on (but there won’t be any shootings at least). Even the homeless are friendly and go their own way if you don’t throw them change.

The difference is that while the people don’t seem individually friendlier than Americans, the culture somehow manages to be. Australia is made up of people, it feels, that don’t quite jive from where they’re originally from.

In America there is a strong sense of being an American, and I kind of miss that pride of place. Here, it is rare to experience the same form of pride, yet there is something else…a sense of being open to other cultures on their terms. Aussies travel the world as a matter of course, being an island nation, and they have brought a larger sense of the world community home with them.

Sitting in an overstuffed couch in one of the local pubs, listening to a respectable jazz trio, my dad said, “This place just sort of swallows you up."

Only if you let it.