Travel diary · Melbourne
Seven days of secret laneways, coffee worth crossing town for, lunches that quietly turned into dinners, and rooftops I wasn't ready to leave. Here's how I'd happily do Australia's coolest city all over again.
Melbourne doesn't show off, it makes you work for it, and that's exactly why I'm obsessed. The best things hide down graffiti-covered laneways, up unmarked staircases and behind doors with absolutely no signage. It's a city of coffee snobs (the good kind), ridiculous food, moody little bars and surprisingly great beaches a tram ride away. I spent a week eating, wandering and getting delightfully lost. Here's how I'd do it all over again.
In this guide
There's no better way to land in Melbourne than standing in front of Flinders Street Station as it glows gold at dusk. It's the city's beating heart, and "meet me under the clocks" is local code for a date, a catch-up, or the opening scene of a big night. Drop your bags, grab a coffee, and just walk. The CBD grid is small, flat and gloriously nosy-able, with a tram rattling past every corner.
This is the Melbourne you came for. Duck off the main streets and the city cracks open into a maze of laneways dripping with street art, espresso bars the size of a cupboard, and walls repainted so often they're never the same twice. Hosier Lane is the famous one, but half the fun is the murals you stumble on with no name and no crowd. Bring a camera and zero agenda.
Every wall's a canvas, and it'll have ghosted you for a whole new look by next month.
Melbourne takes food seriously, and a week here is really just a polite excuse to eat through it. From tucked-away wine bars doing flawless small plates to long, lazy lunches that conveniently forget to end, the standard is absurdly high and the cuisines span the globe.
Translation: come hungry, wear the stretchy pants, and say yes to one more plate every single time.
Melburnians are evangelical about coffee, and honestly, after a few flat whites here you'll get it. Pick a sunny laneway cafe, order a brunch that's frankly too photogenic to eat, and settle in to watch the city wake up. This is less a meal and more a religion, so lean in, take your time, and don't you dare rush your coffee.
Melbourne shopping runs the full spectrum and it's all walkable. Do the "Paris end" of Collins Street for the designer windows, lose an hour flicking through crates in a record store, then finish in the boutiques and vintage shops tucked through the laneways. Even if you buy nothing, the window-shopping and people-watching is basically a sport here.
The "Paris end" of Collins Street, where my wallet went to be politely intimidated.
When the city starts to feel like a lot, hop a tram down to St Kilda for sand, sea breeze and a slower gear. Wander the pier, ride the old wheel, hunt for the little penguins at dusk, and absolutely get a gelato for the foreshore stroll. It's the perfect mid-week palate cleanser before you dive back into the laneways.
Palm trees, sea air and gelato: Melbourne pretending it's on holiday too.
Melbourne after dark is a choose-your-own-adventure. Start on a rooftop with the skyline and a spritz, slip down a laneway to a hidden cocktail bar with no sign, and end up somewhere you'd never have found without a local. And if there's any excuse to properly dress up, a gala, a dinner, a "just because", take it. This city does glamour beautifully.
From no-sign laneway bars to black-tie, Melbourne nights have absolutely zero chill (the best way).
Melbourne is a slow burn, and a week is just long enough to fall hard. You'll leave with a caffeine habit, a camera roll full of murals, and a running list of bars and restaurants you didn't get to, which, honestly, is the whole point. It's a city that rewards wandering, so build in plenty of time to get gloriously lost.
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