KEY POINTS:
Poor old Melbourne. The townsfolk are throwing a flash celebrity event and there's not a Shortland Streeter in sight.
Instead, the poor dears are having to make do with assorted faded luvvies like Richard E Grant and Geoffrey Rush. Not to worry, the well-heeled types sharing the premier
of Spamalot with us are too polite to say anything, and aren't about to let any notable absences, or the 10 previous preview shows, prevent a the full house from brewing inside the almost grand Her Majesty's Theatre.
There's a full footpath sweltering outside as well, as gussied-up invitees and punters linger over their pre-match pint and fag combos. Space constraints and desperation have driven some to midlane smoking, where they pause between puffs to squint through the smoke and flies to watch approaching trams. Then, all too soon, there's the final "two minutes to curtain" call and they're inside before their butts hit tarmac.
Eric Idle's musical take on Monty Python's Holy Grail was pitched as the drawcard for our four-day visit, but really, if you need musical theatre to justify a visit to this casually cool city then you've got far deeper issues than a fondness for Andrew Lloyd Webber.
Television exposure and relative proximity to New Zealand can lead some to sniff at the place, besides it's full of Aussies, but it's an illusory familiarity. For a start, Scientology seems to be everywhere which may account for the famous actors on hand, but with a little help we discovered a few other nooks and crannies we'd have missed even if provided with magnifying glasses. They can keep for the moment, we have to get you looking the part first.
Melburnian fashion is a very mixed bag, dictated by weather as much as anything, so go as you are and you'll be fine. What will stand you out from the crowd is your wave. If flies were raindrops the city would be drowning and they'd have no need to cover every fountain and puddle in signs explaining how they aren't depleting the council supply - we should be bottling the stuff here for export. Oh, hang on. But sadly flies are flies, and they love people-baiting. Aggro won't work on them, neither does Zen, you've got to get Catholic. Ever seen the Pope deliver a blessing on the telly? Well, the wave is much the same but higher. Start with your hand just in front of your nose and casually waft it left and right toward your ears. That's it, nice and easy, left and right, left and right. The flies won't go far, but chill, if you get angry they've won.
Our group are still getting into the swing of it as we begin our Hidden Secrets tour. To be honest, we weren't quite in the zone, art and alleyways didn't seem as enticing as a cold pint on a very hot day, but it didn't take long to be won over.
In the 15 years since rezoning reintroduced city-dwellers to the inner-city, art has managed to escape the galleries and scatter willy-nilly to anywhere it can be ignored, destroyed or sought out. Some is wilfully obscure stuff where word-of-mouth status is the only reward sought and our guide runs six different tours which seek out such underground gems. The lanes and arcades tour we are on tracks through a warren of back-alleys where we come across all manner of grooviness, from a stencil by British guerilla-artist Banksy hidden behind a rubbish skip, to 20X30, the world's smallest art gallery, to some cast-iron hounds of hell silently barking "look at moi" at oblivious shoppers, before finishing with a most welcome poteen in a rooftop bar. Bliss.
After a snoop around various shoppes - vinyl junkies should seek out Collectors Corner on Swanston St and Wax Museum in the Campbell Arcade - we reconvene at Taxi, an odd choice of name for an eatery given it's usually shouted when beating a swift retreat, and we almost did so after spotting the low-grade beer barn squatting beneath it. But a exceedingly fine meal was had, my crunchy quail entree, seared rabbit wrapped in prosciutto, and all-things chocolate dessert was bloody amazing. Be warned though, Taxi's location is vulnerable to afternoon sunstrike so sunglasses are recommended.
Fresh as wilted, if well-fed, daisies, we were picked up from the Crown Promenade the next morning for a day-long, air-conditioned crawl through the sticks, wombats and vineyards of the Yarra Valley, courtesy of the Australian Wine Tour Company. While it's an established wine region dating back to 1838, there was a lengthy stutter from 1921 to the mid-80s after a series a failed seasons led to the vines begin ripped up and the land being given over to cows. Happily, it's all better now, well, apart from the frosts, drought and fires that all but buggered 2006.
First up, Domaine Chandon for a tour and midmorning bubbles - a splendid blend of 45 different wines, don't you know. They even pre-scratch the bottom of your glass to add visual splendour to your sipping. After nibbles it's up to the counter to bump elbows with sundry sunfrocked boozers as we work our way from sauvignon blanc through to shiraz before getting some sun. Noice.
Then it's up the road to Rochford for more lovely liquid refreshment and a great feed of kangaroo rump. A quick lap of the valley, then Yering Station proffered yet another round of grapey goodness, this time set off by a fantastic view and a collection of eyecatching sculpture. If our palates were fading by the time we rocked into Yering Farm, they were reawakened by a lovely show and tell session with owner/ winemaker Alan Johns. You haven't had Yarra Valley wine until you've had it sucked it out of the barrel by it's creator. Cheers again matey.
Enough clearly wasn't enough because another fine selection awaited us at Donovans, a most convivial restaurant sitting on St Kilda's beachfront. My bloody wagyu steak, sliced from a hand-reared and worshipped Japanese cattlebeast, more than matched the brilliant burnt orange sunset.
If Friday meant fine drinking, then Saturday meant fine art. So off we waddled to the multi-venued National Gallery of Victoria to gaze upon some of Aussie's finest. The Gordon Bennett exhibition on the top floor of the Ian Potter Centre in Federation Square sounded like fun. Wrong. Mr Bennett is not so much a pommy catch phrase as an extremely angry aboriginal Queenslander. The severed heads left mine reeling and the apparent tribute to McCahon's "I Am" was a head scratcher, but it was the disembodied moaning that drove me away.
Still, the subsequent traipse, pause and ponder through this stupendously detailed, and oddly structured building, was very cool. By the time I'd reached the front door John Brack was my favourite Aussie painter. Then it was a quick hop across the Yarra and into Modern Britain exhibition where all the heads remained stubbornly attached and spoke in BBC-tones.
With eyes and belly now equally bursting, it was time high art made way for a high floor, the 36th of Hotel Sofitel Melbourne to receive a surprisingly firm handshake from Eric Idle, the blondest of the Monty Python troupe and rather nice bloke in his own right. I'd recommend it for next time you're in Melbourne - although I suspect his escape tunnel may have been completed by then - if only to make seeing Spamalot a more personal experience.
Apparently, the show has been a hard sell to hardened Monty fans who see it as a watering down of their memories, but if the first half is word-for-word Holy Grail for dummies, the second half does throw up some surprises. Be aware though, if you still see the original film as boundary-breaking stuff, the show may feel a tad quaint and family-friendly, so it's best to leave your baggage at the door and experience it as something, ummm, completely different. Still, the Jewish scene may have some spluttering. Eric's hoping so anyway, a bit of religious uproar did wonders for The Life of Brian.
GETTING THERE
Air New Zealand offers daily services to Melbourne from Auckland, Wellington and Christchurch. For the latest airfares visit www.airnz.co.nz, phone Air New Zealand on 0800 737 000, or contact your bonded travel agent.
WHERE TO STAY
The Crown Promenade on the Southbank is well positioned for any excursion. See www.crownpromenade.com.au.
WHAT TO DO
The Hidden Secrets Tour, for information and bookings visit www.hiddensecretstours.com.To book a private or group wine tour of the Yarra Valley, visit www.austwinetourco.com.au. Spamalot is performed at Her Majesty's Theatre, 219 Exhibition St, Melbourne. For bookings visit www.ticketek.com.au/Spamalot
FURTHER INFORMATION
See www.visitmelbourne.com or www.visitvictoria.com.
* Alan Perrott travelled to Melbourne courtesy of Tourism Victoria.
