Making our way down the St. Kilda pier, the interesting crowd was left behind for the families and teenagers enjoying a nice summer day along the seashore.  Families were fishing.  Boys were trying to impress girls with flying feats off of the shelters at the edge of the piers.  The resturant at the end of pier was filled with families eating ice cream.  Old men sat with fishing poles in hand, trying to land their evening supper.  Walking out onto the jetty, the youth continued to congregate and do the mating rituals, the boys playing in the water, the girls giggling on the rocks.

As we walked to very end of the road, we looked out to see a speed boat zooming by with it skis and a tube on top.  As it zipped past, one of the tubes came flying off the top of the canopy and into the water - we frantically waved to them, they waved back, we pointed, they looked confused (we were pointing with the correct fingers thank you very much), finally, one of them looked back to see their inner tube bouncing on the waves and the boat spun around - with waves of gratitude, they plucked it from the water and proceeded on their way.

Our good deed done for the day, we made our way to the café on the pier and ordered up a good glass of wine and looked out over the sky line of Melbourne from the end of St. Kilda Pier.

Refreshed, we made our way back down the pier and on past the beach.

“Dude, you didn’t tell me this was a topless beach!” my friend said excitedly.

“It’s not!” I replied - but soon realized that it, in fact, at least a partially was in fact a topless beach.  Looking at the women with more showing then polite company can allow me to describe, I was showing him much more of Melbourne then I ever intended.

Catching the tram back to the city with the last of the ralliers still in full festive moods was a bit ackward as well.  Some of them were very, well, outgoing in their lifestyles with some public displays of affection that are best left in the bars and off of the public trams.  There are times when you say you really want to be a fly on the wall for this type of thing.

Let me reassure you, no, you do not.

We grabbed supper and a beer at the oldest bar in Melbourne, Young and Jackson’s.  Before we parted ways, my American friend said simply, “You sure know the sights to see in Melbourne!”