Secret Society

The Sydney Morning Herald
January 28, 2006 - Page 8 of the Travel liftout

Brigid Delaney finds southern comfort in the hidden laneways of Melbourne.

There are some days when it's easier to agree with Paul Keating's sentiments - that the rest of them, if they're not living in Sydney, are just camping out there.

Many things evoke these feelings, such as evenings when it's warm, but not humid, you are on a ferry and the water is black and the lights are sharp around the land. Or the swim at the beach before work, or the way the bush pushes up against suburban backyards.

Then there are the other days. The people are mean, the crowds surly. The public transport system has gone to the dogs and the roads are clogged with traffic.

They are the days I dream of Melbourne. Melbourne at its best is not the beach, but the city. And while the heart of Sydney may be her harbour, in Melbourne it's her laneways. It's a truth that has sneaked up on Melburnians. One day they woke up and their friends were haunting the side streets, opening restaurants and hotels, starting up bars or dress shops or book stores, selling coffee beans out of Hessian bags or fixing shoes in darkened doorways.

Melbourne at once became more lively but also more secretive. The best watering holes in the city did not have signs, were behind industrial size bins or doubled as underground car parks. While Sydney has easy charms and highly visible pleasures, you have to be in the know to feel Melbourne's beating heart.

One of my favourite laneways is Bank Place. It.s in the legal district, just off Collins Street - and is more established and polished than some of its edgier but grottier counterparts.

Bank Place is only half a city block wide, but it packs a lot in - the fabulous Syracuse and three other cafes, the lively Mitre Tavern, and my home for the night - the four-star Metro Apartments.

I found a room on the internet at a special price ($121 a night) and knew it would be small and pretty basic, but that was fine as I wasn't planning to spend much time in it. I was in town to be a bridesmaid for my friend Alisia. It was a Friday afternoon wedding in Carlton and there was much bridesmaid business to be done before then.

The Metro staff were helpful, letting me check in early and acting with a sort of casual friendliness that suits someone who has been up since the 5am and is about to face the full horror of having her hair, nails and make-up done.

My room, in the heritage building, was of the most basic kind - a studio. It had a TV, a bathroom, a bed and a cupboard. It was small, and the window faced a brick wall. However, everything was neat and clean, the bathroom was bright and shiny and the bed was very comfortable. At night it was a quiet as a crypt.

There was also an iron, a bar fridge, loads of linen, facilities to make tea and coffee, and little packets of biscuits (torn open at 2am).

I gave the instant coffee a miss and headed across the laneway to Syracuse, which specialises in wine, but also does good breakfasts, lovely lunches, tapas, and amazing coffees. Under a soaring ceiling, at a marble top table, sipping a flat white and reading The Age, I sank into the Melbourne vibe. From the Metro Apartments, all the attractions of Melbourne-s city centre are within walking distance, including bars, shopping arcades - such as Block Arcade and the new QV shopping centre - and at the end of the laneway the current hottest restaurant in town, Vue de Monde.

Back in the the room, I chucked on my bridesmaid dress and hightailed it to the bride-s house to help her frock up. The staff at the Metro oohed and aahed at my outfit ("You look great - we don't recognise you from this morning," said the desk clerk) and ordered a taxi for me. Twelve hours later I didn't look so great. I walked barefoot through the city in my bridesmaid gear (stilettos hurt) returning to the Metro with black feet and a dirty dress, just as my waiter that morning at Syracuse was putting out the garbage. I sank gratefully into bed after swallowing the biscuits.

The next day the staff had to boot me out ("five more minutes!" I pleaded sleepily into the phone as they informed me it was 10.30am and I would have to check-out.)

But that didn't matter; I'd had my Melbourne fix. I'd tasted the coffee, ridden on a tram (and fare-evaded), walked barefoot through the city and spent and evening with one of my closest friends who was now married and blissfully happy.

If only I could take a little of that laneway charm and give it to Sydney.