Pleasingly summer has hit over
the past couple of weeks, albeit with the occasional blip back into winter. So
far, touch wood, it seems to be better than the previous few years. Which means
everyone is moaning that it’s too hot and is pining for cooler weather like the
previous few years... I have found that the one downside of working from home
is perhaps the absence of office ice block style air-conditioning but there is
a pool twinkling in the corner of my eye.
Out of the office I have had the
opportunity to make important decisions and change my mind again. This being
which is the better city – Sydney or Melbourne? A few weeks back, spending a
sizzling Saturday meandering around Melbourne I had settled the decision in my
mind, Melbourne it is, mainly due to some indescribable vibe floating around in
the hipsterphere. But then, last weekend, the ferny gullies and golden coves of
the northern bushlands of Sydney pulled me back. 
I decided, while fumbling my way
through laneways and drinking cooling thick shakes that both Melbourne and
Sydney are different creatures, and which one is best depends what you are up
for at any particular point in time. To explain in a very misogynistic way
(which seems to be the in thing these days), think of Melbourne as a slightly
distant, not obviously beautiful, bookish kind of woman, confident and content
in herself. She’s not obviously flaunting herself, though has some initial
outward attractions, but these quickly fade and you are wondering what all the
fuss is about. But something deeper takes hold, and you end up finding her
utterly charming, especially when she’s in a sunny mood. By contrast Sydney is
the voluptuous slapper putting it all out there for anyone and everyone. She
provides instant gratification, accompanied with lots of sweat and congestion.
But spend a few days and she begins to grate. Until you turn the corner again
and get confronted with more of her raffish beauty. 
Sydney is better on the eyes, Melbourne better on the
ears. For this, one is blessed with geography, the other with design. Melbourne’s
grid like CBD lends it that slightly American air, and I see wanky developers
are latching on to that with superior apartment living in ‘Westside’ and ‘Upper
Downtown South Bank’ type names (I guess the ‘Paris End’ is less trendy these
days). It has an undeniable humming backing track perforated by tram tracks and
bells. It feels like a city.
Sydney feels more like an attempt to create individual
patches of idyllic beach and bushland living sporadically and reluctantly meshed
together to form a city. It’s stunning geography is also its biggest challenge,
its beautiful bays and gullies both dividing and obstructing. It’s endless
westlessness an entirely different world. However it has beaches – and not St
Kilda like beaches – but sweeping ocean sands like Maroubra, harbourside glitz
like Shark Bay, and unnamed, unreachable coves of Middle Harbour and the
Hawkesbury. These are rejuvenating when the grotty humidity builds, despite the
mass eastward migration that occurs on such days.
Does it matter which is best? Well, frankly, no. Both
should be pretty proud of themselves, though not in that back-slapping self-satisfied
way which leads to complacency. Essentially they are modern, dynamic and,
importantly, have plenty of good coffee and fine food. But then so does
Adelaide. And Canberra, which itself should be celebrated for what it is,
rather than denigrated for what it isn’t as it turns 100. A maturing, warm,
slightly quirky woman, in whose company you feel entirely comfortable.
Separation is tough.
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