There’s something about Melbourne that builds a person’s character and toughens you. After the past few weeks of waking up to single-digit temperatures, a clear day of 17 degrees practically feels like summer.
Three months ago, on a trip to Europe and the Philippines, I found myself talking to people a lot about Melbourne. Admittedly, most people are more familiar with Sydney, but I was quick to point out that Sydney is the prettier sister while Melbourne is the smarter and, shall I say, more talented, edgy one.
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There is a palpable pride among Melburnians. Perhaps we’re toughened by shared experiences that build our collective character. Maybe the 262 days of lockdown we endured, or the absence of an airport train line, or the Russian roulette that is our weather? It’s hard to put a finger on what it is exactly, but as the hip kids say: “If you know, you know.”
One thing I am sure of is that I’ve met the kindest, most interesting, well-travelled, well-read, talented and diverse bunch of people living here. Maybe the black puffer jackets are just a disguise to keep people at bay until we earn our legit local status.
Recently I met Tim, a man born and raised in Melbourne. I probed him, asking: “So, when does one become a legit Melburnian?”
He smiled and said: “When you know what a failure Docklands is.”
Then he says: “When a tram hits your bike, and you get stuck on your bike.” He acts out a pained look on his face to explain further, but I can’t relate. I don’t own a bike either.
Maida Pineda is freelancer writer and author.
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