Most liveable city in the world. That’s what Melbourne is in the eyes of many. And to some, who’s perception of liveable is laid back, it is the perfect haven for living and retiring.
But I cannot help and question this notion. Flying to this place, my expectations were far and beyond. Owing to the fact that many of my colleagues consider Melbourne their favourite destination. And relatively how hard it is to get this flight. I knew this city should be special.
To my disbelief, subtle realisation of me disliking this place comes to me unexpectedly. I bid goodbye to the image of clean blocks, modern trams, trash free sidewalks and rule abiding citizens. Instead vandalism was rampant, smoking was countless and homeless people were everywhere. I could be right or wrong. I could be blinded or bias. I could be mislead or misinformed. For my basis of aforementioned only is the expectation in my head that wasn’t met.
Regardless of my disappointment, I still find Brighton Beach with all it’s colourful beach boxes beautiful. I find beaches in general beautiful.
These 82 beach huts of the 1900s are famous for their classic Victorian architectural features. And does remain one of the most photographed remnant of this bygone era. Today Brighton Beach is an iconic destination with tourists flocking the scene (that of which includes me).
The colourful beach boxes adds joy to my once gray perception of this city. Realizing that for every bad side, there’s always a good one. I then relived every conversation I had with an Aussie, and how warm and kind they all seem to be. People were polite. Selfless of saying grace. And has a relatively low crime rate. I then realized, that maybe (just maybe) the concept of a place being the most liveable may not be because of the place itself. But because of the people that live in it.