Melbourne, Day Four

This post will have nothing to do with Melbourne, but rather just a random collection of thoughts that have been going through my head over the last 24 hours.


First and foremost, I've learnt something over the last four days or so - there is no substitute for a good newspaper. I can just sense Andrew raising a huff about this when he reads this, but the main thing I'm missing while in Melbourne is that I haven't found a chance to pick up a paper, buy a coffee, and sit down and read about the news in the world. I know that there's plenty of sites that give me news, whether global or local (Well, probably not local, but Australia-based, at least). There's a difference, though, between reading the news, and enjoying the news. You can read the news from an LCD monitor, but it takes a good paper, and a nice flat white to be able to enjoy it.

Right now, I'm missing that, unfortunately.

The next thing that's been going through my mind is Kevin Rudd's new workplace policy's (Apologies for the News.com link). I've been reading through the general gist of the article and, so far, the two main points that have stood out for me are unfair dismissal laws, and also proposed laws regarding industrial action. In regards to the unfair dismissal laws, unfortunately, I just can't say whether I think Rudd's laws are a good idea or not. In regards to unfair dismissal laws not applying to new employees of a company for 6 months, I'm not actually too adverse to that, believe it or not. Consider that most companies usually hire on employees for a probation period of three months regardless, so another three on top of this, while not being ideal, is not a doomsday prediction either.

It's interesting to note, however, that Rudd's still scrapping AWA agreements all together. To quote a piece Rudd wrote for the Labor eHerald, "Our laws will abolish AWAs – and we will do so without apology." Presumably, this means that Rudd is of the opinion that there is no element of the Australian workforce that can benefit from AWAs, or, if there is, it is not a sizable enough percentage to warrant the existence of AWAs. The alternative that I can see is that, while there is a sizable portion of the workforce who could benefit from AWAs, it's just too difficult to implement a system that will ensure that individual bargaining is not forced upon workers. Given that the Bureau of Statistics reported in 2003 that approximately 18% of the working population had Bachelor's Degrees or higher, I don't think Rudd would honestly put the working conditions of 1 in 5 Australians in the 'too hard' basket.

I am of the opinion (And I think most of you are too) that people should be allowed to negotiate individual working conditions, if that's their choice. If they want to engage in collective bargaining, that's understandable too - I am all in favor of workers joining together to provide greater bargaining power against a vastly better resourced employer. I just also think that individual bargaining should also be allowed, if the employee wants it. Embarrassingly enough, I'm not sure how much, if any, leeway exists for individual bargaining under a government that's banned AWAs. I'll try and find out by my next blog post - I just wanted to throw a contentious idea out to you all, and get some discussion going.

Lastly, but definitely not least(ly), can someone please deny an ugly rumor I've heard going around - is it true that the Mall's Balls have gone walkabout? Please, Andrew, Alice, Kate, Jono, Daniel, anyone, say it ain't so!

Melbourne, Day Three

Technically, this post is a bit misleading, since this is actually my fourth day in Melbourne. I tried to write a post last night, I really did, but I just didn't get around to it. That's actually an incredibly poor excuse given that yesterday was the first day where literally nothing happened. Honestly. I woke up (late), Julian had a hangover, Julian hugged lots of people, I ate something at some point during the day, and then went to sleep after watching lots of Stargate. Essentially, a normal Adelaide day, but in a crazy city.

Since, basically, nothing worth putting in a blog happened yesterday, I was a bit concerned about writing another blog post again. The question on my mind was, what was better? Writing often about nothing, or sparingly about something? Julian was no help in answering this question, as he was too busy playing bad guitar tunes, and listening to a song for about two seconds before switching to the next.

While I'm writing this, though, something has occurred to me. This blog was started, according to Andrew, because none of us led interesting enough lives to have an interesting blog on our own. This is a pretty interesting point, simply because of another comment Andrew made on my previous Melbourne post - namely, that I seemed to be a much more interesting person while in Melbourne.

So, the question becomes, what defines an interesting person? If we're to believe Andrew, it involves going to see Dylan Moran, and also thinking about how to improve handling on Amish carts. On the random topic of Amish people, I also found out the other day that they don't wear moustaches because they believe moustaches are associated with the military. I guess that means this guy would rather make war than love...

At any rate, back to my original rambling point, does my going to see Dylan Moran make me an interesting person? Admittedly, Moran's a fantastic comedian, and really interesting to see live, but does that make me an interesting person for going to see him? Does Moran's interesting nature rub off onto me, much like some humour-based piece of bacterium?

Now, this bit of thought led me to something else, which was, maybe this is only happening because it's interesting that I'm in another city, watching Dylan Moran, while thinking about the Amish. Maybe there has to be a critical mass of interesting things that all happen at once before enough interesting things happen that people start to define me as an interesting person.

From here, my mind just arched to a really interesting possibility. What if we made a pact with ourselves, whereby we would not allow ourselves to go home after work and simply collapse but, instead, make sure that at least three interesting things happened that involved us each day. If nothing was happening then, by God, we'd go out and make something happen, whether it was watching a particularly good movie, learning how to play a new tune on a particular instrument, or even flirting with that cute girl that we've always wanted, but have been too nervous to go after. Hell, it doesn't matter if we don't succeed at any of the above, as long as we tried - failures can be interesting too.

I think that's about enough rambling for now, but I hope everyone has a bit of a think about what I've said, and tries to see if they can manage, even for one week, doing three interesting things every day.


EDIT: Corrected some proof reading errors, added more hyperlinks

Melbourne, Day Two

Hello all, and welcome to my second installment in my series of posts on the Melbourne holidays. I'm personally rather impressed that this second post even exists, partially because I'm tired, partially because I'm lazy, but mainly because I've had a bit to drink. Technically, my night isn't over just yet, but I thought a post now would be infinitely better than a post in say, one hour, when writing will become somewhat more difficult.

Melbourne so far has been treating me rather well. It rained today, which I suppose is par for course for the city. About two minutes later, it stopped raining, and the sun came out instead, followed by rain again in about twenty minutes. Again, this would have to be par for course for the city.

I'd have to say the highlight so far of my trip has been going to see Dylan Moran at the Melbourne International Comedy Festival. There was no reason whatsoever to use hyperlinks for either of the previous two names, but by God, I like the pretty blue lines. Moran was his usual hilarious self, which is to say, a somewhat drunken Irishman making fun of anyone or anything that he could think of. It was fantastic, mainly because he didn't notice us.

Before ol' Dylan, we had a good little trip down to the Market, to have a look at various things that no person really needs, but that are nonetheless on sale. I managed to successfully waste time, and also have a small heart attack when I withdrew some cash and got a bank statement as to how much I had left - damn you Virgin!

Tomorrow, I'm going to be going to the Imax to see Frank Miller's 300 (oooh yeah, I'm definitely on a hyperlink power trip here). It should be a good little outing, and I'm hoping on getting some nice stylised violence worked into my holiday.

I think that's all for now - this post has basically consisted of me pulling words out of... somewhere, just to be able to say I had a post today. I'll post more tomorrow, with luck. I hope you're all doing well, and nothing too serious has happened in the outside world. Before I leave, I'll leave you with this momentary conundrum that's been plaguing me:

Would an Amish person lower their cart for better handling?

Melbourne, Day One

Hello bloggers (And random economists), welcome to one of my first posts in a while.

As most of you know, I left for (and arrived in) Melbourne today, for a 7 day holiday. I noted that I was beginning what I'm hoping will be a fun and exciting vacation on Friday the 13th, a fact that would no doubt send shivers of vindictive pleasure down the spine of every high school teacher of mine who'd ever accused me of being the Antichrist.

To begin with, I had planned on driving to Melbourne, mainly because I love the feeling of driving through country towns (and, inevitably, not stopping as you slowly realise that any town that has a tin shed as a town hall probably isn't worth exploring). I had thought that, what with my shiny, new Lancer, a long interstate drive was just what the doctor ordered.

Alas, though, my mechanic had a different opinion, and I was told that, until my car had at least one service, it would probably be a poor idea to take it for a long journey. So, one day before I was supposed to be driving to Melbourne, I decided to fly. Being a bit of a poor bugger, I chose to fly Virgin, and that was where my adventure began.

I arrived at the airport relatively early, to pick up my ticket and wait pointlessly at the departure gate for a bit. Eventually, my flight came and I happily strode through the boarding area, happy to finally be on my way. About 30 seconds later, I came upon an obstacle. I'd reached a fork in the path, with one path being a well light corridor that I presume continued onto the plane in glorious airport-decor splendor, and the other being a set of concrete stairs, that simply went down to god knows where. A typically cheery Virgin sign on the wall read that passengers with seat numbers 1-14 could take the shiny, happy corridor, while the rest of us would have the reassuring theme of industrial concrete to guide us to our destination. A few passengers, the privileged elite, happily strode forth into the corridor, while the vast unwashed masses began their inevitable trudge down the stairs. Pausing for a moment to express my envy for Business class passengers and their luxurious path, I took the one more traveled by.

Our concrete-laden descent ended up taking us to the airport tarmac, where I happily boarded the plane, eager to find my seat, and also escape the unique smell of airplane fuel being loaded. I sat down on my seat, and was pleasantly surprised to hear Bob Evans being piped through the plane.

Eventually, though, "I believe in Love" was cut off, in favour of a much less romantic, though probably more practical, demonstration of the safety features of the plane. I dutifully listened as Sarah, my wonderful hostess, explained the various things we'd need to do in case of an emergency. I didn't take any of them in, of course, but I figured I could always ask the person next to me, if worst came to worst.

Unless they were already dead, of course. Forgetful people, take note, always try and aim for a middle seat in economy, so you have two potential people to ask for help, if you ever run into problems.

With the safety features of the airplane taken care of, Sarah launched into a chat about the in-flight entertainment that Virgin was offering on the phone. She directed our attention to the wonderful LCD in front of us, she directed our attention to the wonderful controls for those screens on our seats, she explained to us how the wonderful people at Foxtel had provided us with a multitude of wonderful channels to choose from and then, finally, she directed our attention to the wonderful credit card slots next to the LCD panels, which would allow us to actually use all this wonderful entertainment, for the low price of just six dollars.

As Sarah explained all this, the LCD monitor happily showed advertisement after advertisement (Navman GPS - it's like having a local in your car!) I decided not to take up her (incredibly good value) offer, and instead contented myself with a good book instead. The adverts, though, seemed to be there to stay. I periodically tore myself from my book to check up on what was being sold. One of the more interesting ads was for Matavai Resort. The ad wasn't interesting due to anything the resort was offering, but more for the seemingly random ticker tape of words that were scrolling across the bottom of the screen during the entirety of the ad. Along with "Scuba Diving", and "Sailing", and the usual resort-type activities, Matavai also seemed to offer "E Bay", and "Pussies". That one managed to puzzle me, though not nearly as much as the next advert section, which began with a title screen called "Virgin Voyeur Active", and then proceeded to be two minutes of scantily clad women running around in bikinis.

During this all, Sarah again approached, this time with an offer of a sandwich from the menu, or alternatively a drink, or chips. You'll be interested to know that Virgin charges five dollars for two pieces of bread and some ham and cheese. Obviously, Virgin seemed to be the Pizza Shop of the skies, suckering you in with cheap Pizza that goes to Melbourne, only to gouge you on Garlic Bread that keeps the entire operation afloat. Still, because Sarah was cute, and I was hungry, I bought the food all the same.

All too quickly, though, the entire thing was over and the plane landed, leaving me cold, alone and unsatisfied on the Melbourne airport tarmac. I picked up my bag, gave Julian a quick ring to let him know that I'd arrived, and popped off into the toilet. You'll all be interested to know that the humble condom dispenser has now evolved into a much more entrepreneurial device, that not only dispenses condoms, but also does breath mints, breath sprays, deodorant and hair gel. Hooray for capitalism!

Finally, Julian arrived, picked me up, and we went back to his place, where I promptly settled in, and was treated to a viewing of the most bizarre film I've ever seen.

And that's where I'm up to folks. Bit of a long post this one, and I'm sorry for making you all read through it (Hah, I kid myself that you have :P). The aim right now is to basically write one post every night for each night I'm in Melbourne. I guess you'll all know if that's worked out or not after tomorrow night. For now, good night, and hope Adelaide's treating you all well (Except you Trent, you damn Finnish person you :P)