If Sydney is undoubtedly the most iconic city of Australia (who could not recognize its Opera House?), Melbourne is, to me, its most culturally vibrant metropolis.

In between skyscrapers from the CBD (Central Business District), it is thus not rare to find tiny alleyways bustling with activity around cafés and pubs. The laneway culture and underground life are definite highlights of the place, with incredibly beautiful and striking street art, a talented music scene, year-round festivals, or relaxing loungy bars and pumped-up nightclubs. For those who prefer the artsy venues, Melbourne’s museums are world-class in classical as well as contemporary art, and the surprising but definitely inspired modern architecture of the buildings might convert even the most ardent defender of the old monuments.

The alternative or bohemian lifestyle has, on its side, conquered several districts of the city – they are probably the most interesting urban places I have had to visit in the whole continent. It is not difficult to find sheesha bars in the same street as op shops, organic grocery stores or trendy clothes boutiques. If you get a bit tired while walking there, do not forget to stop at one of the friendly pubs to try the delicious coffee or mocha before going on your visit.

But before discovering all these jewels from Melbourne, I have to admit my first impression from the place was quite bad. One reason for this: the Australian backpacker business.

I declined Eric’s friendly proposal of dropping me in Bairnsdale, given the fact he was leaving at 2pm. I thought I would be able to catch a ride and go further than that before this time.

I was wrong.

I stayed for a few hours waiting near Orbost for a willing car, and while I was with my second driver – who was only dropping me at Lakes Entrance – I saw Eric’s car pass us. Hempf.

So I got to Lakes Entrance with the help of a cook, then to Bairnsdale thanks to two shark hunters (no kidding), then to Sale, picked up by a WWOOF (… Google it, damn) farm manager – who also offered me a cup of tea at his place, plus the whole half of a cake as “emergency rations”… God people are awesome sometimes – and, finally, a banker who was to retire a few months afterwards drove me all the way to Melbourne.

Four hundred kilometers of hitch-hiking, in half a day. New record.

I arrived at night in a far suburb of Melbourne, and took a train towards the CBD. I found a hostel, namely the Nomad’s, and put down my backpack there.

And then it began. I started to feel horrible in the hostel, and I realized it was because of all the people around me, all these so-called backpackers whose only real affiliation with backpacking is their rucksack. Travelers from Europe mainly, coming in Australia with working holiday visas, but contrary to real travelers, here to burn money, work a bit, then burn it again, may it be in accommodation (living in hostels instead of renting an apartment) or alcohol, parties… Without, obviously, any wish to discover the country or the locals.

I am exaggerating. Not all are like this, thank God; but a lot, even Australian travelers themselves, behave like that. Making it impossible for real shoestring travelers to find a cheap accommodation, hostels being designed for a relatively high price norm, and – a bit like French higher education schools – creating false and fake community events designed to emulate, again, the desire of consumption within these rich (or simply stupid) youngsters by peer pressure.

Alright. I am done with my diatribe. Yeah, I feel better now, thanks.

I thus quickly looked for some CouchSurfing event in Melbourne, found one, got there and met dozens (I am not kidding – dozens) of CouchSurfers, hosts, travelers, and both, like Brody, a Canadian from Toronto who had come to Australia to work and travel at the same time. And, having an apartment in the district of St Kilda, he proposed to host me for the remaining of my stay in Melbourne. And, at once, everything simply got better. Between two alternative districts like Fitzroy or Brunswick, we would eat a AU$4-pizza (and a good one, please) or an Australian dish like the delicious chicken parmigiana, find some cool stuff in op shops, before going to a dubstep live or a cool bar of his knowledge.

St Kilda, where Brody was living at the time, is a relaxed district right next to water. Even though its beaches do not have the charisma – or the mild temperatures! – of Sydney’s ones, they are perfect for simply chilling out on the sand, taking a walk, or watching the sunset.

But where is the culture, where is the art, where is the nightlife? It is a legitimate question, after everything I said about it in the beginning. But do not worry, my friends, here they come, wrapped up with high ideals, sudden inspirations, human talent, or simply cool culture.

I did not have much time left, but I still wanted to see the Great Ocean Road before flying out to New Zealand. After a few days of searching a possible travel party in a car or a van, I finally gave up and did it the old way.

Hitch-hiking.

No seriously, what is even better than doing the Great Ocean Road if not hitching on it?

Bonus Track: Signs from Melbourne.