The Rose in the Lily Pond

Since the few people who read this blog (mainly Gavin and my Mum) cannot afford to spend $140 on a main meal, (and believe me, neither can I!) I thought I would write about the experience of going to The Grill in the Sky City complex on Federal Street. If I was to review it, no, I wouldn’t recommend it to a friend. Don’t go there Gavin and Mum. It is an upper market steak house. Leather seats, mod decor, and shinny floors that can be quite dangerous in heels after three glasses of wine. It is too clean, too shinny, and too... nothing. It is kind of like the brand of David Beckham, absolutely no personality. Too scared to let any real emotion show in case it’s not the right emotion. It is like the boiled down version of you when you go to a job interview. It lacks character and charm. To be fair, the wine and the entrees were spectacular. I had a delicious Riesling from central Otago which woke my sweet tooth up, accompanied by king prawns. Ever the lady, I got stuck in with my fi

When you travel, you often get told to stick to the main streets. Do not head off down random dark alleys because that’s where you lose your passport, your money, and most likely your kidneys. However if you followed this advice in Melbourne you would miss out on the very heart of the city. It all happens down little alleyways. Wonder down one, and then another one, and then another one, and you will find where the locals hang out. In bars that have graffiti art on the wall, and nothing but milk crates to sit on. Or arty cafes that would be impossible to locate on a map. That’s the trick, once you have found one of these places, it’s almost impossible for tourists to find it again, or describe it to other tourists because of the maze of back alleys with punky looking kids loitering by rubbish bins it took to get there. It’s the locals best kept secret, and it almost seems that the more remote the location is, the more popular it is. Don’t get me wrong, stick to the main streets, and