EVERYBODY NEEDS GOOD NEIGHBOURS…

We were very excited to be arriving into Melbourne. Neither of us had ever been to Australia before, and it was a country that held a good deal of fascination for both of us. Emma had been keen to visit ever since she did a project on Ayers Rock in first school, and had looked after a family of three koala bears as a child (OK, so they were teddies, but that just made her all the more keen to meet the real thing). Plus her grandmother was from Melbourne, and her dad had lived in Sydney for two years, so there were family connections there that she was eager to explore. For Duncan, it was all the rave reviews about Australia's natural beauty and extraordinary landscapes that had sparked his interest (that, and years of watching Neighbours and Home and Away, of course).

Our excitement was dealt a blow when, on landing, we checked our emails to find that one of our tenants had lost her job and might potentially need to move out of the flat if she couldn't find a new job soon. Arrgh. Dealing with that would be a nightmare from over here. What could we do? In true procrastination style, we chose to push it to the back of our minds for now and hope that the problem would sort itself out, and instead focus on the matter in hand - being excited about arriving into Melbourne. We hopped on the Skybus into Melbourne's Southern Cross station, and from there caught a train out to South Yarra station, where we had a twenty minute walk to our youth hostel (which we later learned was on an easy tram route straight into town). On the way, we met a group of very friendly Aussies who escorted us to our hostel chatting to us all the way, giving us a very warm welcome to the country. South Yarra is a lovely, green suburb of Melbourne with lots of lively little cafés and restaurants, and some very appealing little boutiques that Duncan had to forcibly restrain Emma from getting lost in for days. Our good intentions about getting out and about in Melbourne that night fell by the wayside as soon as we got into our bedroom and flopped onto the bed, wiped out by the day's activity.

We were up bright and early the next morning - New Year's Eve - but, rather than leave straight away to explore, Emma started the hunt for her family with a little internet research and, on the Australian archive's excellent website, discovered that her grandmother had had two brothers that her family hadn't been aware of. Turns out that they had both served in the First World War.

As fate would have it, when we then decided to walk into town through the lovely botanical gardens just near the hostel, the first building we came across was the Shrine of Remembrance, erected to honour those who had served for the state of Victoria in the First World War, and all those since. It's a really attractive, huge, stone building, with a large central atrium which is precisely designed so that at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month of the year a ray of sunlight crosses the stone of remembrance in the middle of the floor. The guards of the shrine can run a simulation, which they did for us and the other few tourists around the shrine. They also talked us through all the reliefs on the ceiling, depicting all the activities that Victorian servicemen engaged in during the war.

In the corridors around the central atrium, there are glass cases holding books of remembrance, in which the names of every Victorian serviceman have been painstakingly written in calligraphy. One of the guards, wearing long white gloves, took us to the book of names beginning with L (for Levy), and allowed us to photograph the names of Emma's two great-uncles. All this new information was a bit overwhelming, and we still didn't know what had become of the two brothers, but the guards provided us with a short guide to tracing former WWI soldiers, which would involve a fair amount of research on the internet. As we digested all this new information, we climbed to the top of the shrine to look out over the botanical gardens and got our first good view of Melbourne. Later, as we walked out of the gardens, and past an eternal flame lit for Victorians killed in battle, we were really annoyed to see a bunch of Japanese tourists who thought would be amusing to pose for photographs as if they were pouring water on the flame. We know that Australia and Japan were adversaries in the Second World War, but we both found this really offensive and disrespectful. Grrrr.

In town, we followed a walking tour that we'd been given by the local visitors' centre, of Melbourne's cafés and arcades. Café culture is taken very seriously here, and the city has a really nice buzzy cosmopolitan vibe as a result. It also has some lovely little arcades - one with its very own Gog and Magog clock monsters like the ones that live in the Guildhall in London (where Duncan used to work) - with boutique shops and lots of great shoes. There are also a fair few quirky pieces of public art which we found particularly fun - the 'public purse' on Collins Street was a big stone purse that passers-by could sit on, and up towards Chinatown a couple of Doric columns and the corner of the roof of the old public library can just be seen sticking out from the ground, as if the building had succumbed to severe subsidence. We spent the afternoon moseying around these places, and then stopped for a beer in the pub opposite Flinders St Station, which had an amazingly English air about it and an energetic live band to get us into the partying frame of mind.

By this stage things were getting going for the evening's New Year's Eve celebrations, and people were flooding out of Flinders St station. We grabbed some noodles from a street vendor and sat overlooking the Yarra river, watching some of the performers gearing up for the big event. We didn't have any firm plans for the evening, but when we found a couple of seats outside in the sun at a lively café just by Federation Square, at the heart of some of the evening's entertainment, we decided to settle in there a while. We couldn't have chosen a better spot really, if we'd bought tickets for some of the flashy events going on elsewhere, as we watched the sun set over Melbourne's skyscrapers and turned our attention to the action at the World Music Carnavale going on around us. And, as big fans of people watching, we had a prime opportunity as the whole of Melbourne had turned out to see in the New Year. And, while those on the streets around us weren't allowed to drink, we had our friendly English waiter running back and forth keeping us well supplied with vodka and beer. The best parts of the evening were the amazing fireworks - one at 9.30pm for children, and then the main one at midnight. As anticipated they were spectacular, particularly as we could see four different displays at the same time.

The next day, we did some more research into Emma's family background - visiting her grandmother's old home where the owner, who can't have been best impressed to have two random strangers turning up on his doorstep on New Year's Day, humoured us by showing us round the garden and allowing us to take photos. Then Emma took the tram down to the seaside resort of South Kilda to visit another former residence, while Duncan went on another walking tour which this time took in all the sporting highlights including the Rod Laver tennis arena and the Melbourne Cricket Ground (MCG), as well as the south bank area. In the evening we met up again and headed into Chinatown for dinner.

After a couple of days in the city, it was time to get out and about again. We picked up a car - Toyah the Toyota - which the rental company persuaded us we wanted as an automatic rather than with a manual gearbox. Although we had reservations about driving an automatic, the car was so unbelievably easy to drive, and was far more powerful than the small manual that we had originally booked, that driving was a much more pleasurable experience than it had been with Nobby. We were heading out onto the Great Ocean Road, one of the world's great drives, we had been assured. It was constructed in the 1920s by returned WWI soldiers, and was a major public works project of the era.

Unfortunately, we hadn't been so forward thinking as to book any accommodation, and of course it was the school holidays and the height of the tourist season. After exploring our limited options at the Torquay tourist information office, we agreed to spend two full days' budget on a bed and breakfast in Apollo Bay. The drive there was really beautiful, full of twists and turns and breathtaking views over the sea from the cliffs, and Toyah rose to the challenge of the sharp bends and variable speed limits very easily. And we were hugely excited when we stopped at the Koala Café and were sent down a quiet little nearby road to see lots of sleepy cuddly grey creatures hanging out in the branches high above our heads.

We pushed on to Apollo Bay, stopping to pick up some sausages for the barbecue that we felt confident this Aussie B&B would be equipped with. When we arrived the friendly Dutch owner checked us in. Breakfast was at 8:30am. Til…? We asked. There was no til - it was at 8:30am. There was no flexibility - she had no ice to keep the milk cold. What?? What was wrong with the fridge? And there was no en suite. Given that we were already paying an extortionate amount to stay in someone's peach-coloured, chintzy spare room, we were a little bit peeved about this. When she then told us that we couldn't use the barbecue because her son was using it for a party with his friends in the garage, we were seething.

She must have sensed this, and came back a few minutes later to tell us that her son had invited us to join him and his friends, who all seemed to be called John, to use the barbecue. They were a very friendly bunch, a little older than we had anticipated, celebrating a 53rd birthday. They offered us salad and beer to go with our sausages, and we settled in happily. We told them, a little tongue-in-cheek, that us Poms got most of our knowledge about Australia from Home & Away and Neighbours, which they found hysterical. Obviously real Aussies were nothing like that, they assured us, with such ridiculous family dramas and bust-ups every other episode. They went on to prove how charming and friendly and sophisticated Aussies could be, with fun conversation and great hospitality, despite being a little more than tipsy having spent the whole day at the pub.

That is, until some of their teenage children put in an appearance. One guy's two pretty blonde daughters were nicknamed the Hiltons. The younger of the two, one of the other guys whispered to Emma, was also, less kindly, known as a 'brothel on legs'. Emma pretended not to hear this, but the conversation in the room had turned to whether or not the daughter had done the dirty with some guy. The poor girl's father repeatedly asked her whether she had, while we squirmed in our seats thinking that this wasn't a conversation we should be witnessing. Things turned from bad to worse when one of the other guys used the word 'slut' out loud to describe the girl. Understandably, the father found this remarkably offensive and, having had a good few drinks, refused to let it go. The situation escalated as neither of the two would back down and, as we quickly moved out of the way, the two guys squared up to each other. A neat head-butt from the father, and the next thing we knew the other guy had blood streaming from his forehead and everyone was screaming at one another trying to pull the two of them apart.

What drama! What a genuine Aussie experience! When the dust settled and the guys - who were after all very old friends - had wiped the blood away and made up amidst lots of hugs and tears, we muttered to a couple of the others that it wasn't so far removed from the Neighbours and Home & Away storylines after all. We half expected Alf Stewart to walk in at any moment to break things up and call everyone a flaming galah. Shortly afterwards, we made our excuses and sidled off, only to be confronted by a group of very friendly drunk Hungarian-Australians in the living area outside our bedroom, who engaged us in rather more harmless conversation about the Great Ocean Road.

Next morning, we managed to make it on time to breakfast, as did the Hungarians and a British couple that was also staying there. The conversation over the breakfast table ranged from Robert Mugabe to Ceausescu to whether Gordon Brown would be re-elected. Thus fortified, we said goodbye to the nice Dutch landlady, who was still extremely embarrassed about the antics of her son's friends the night before, and headed on our way.

That day we saw the real highlights of the Great Ocean Road. The famous Twelve Apostles, now reduced to about seven by years of tidal erosion, were really stunning, particularly when the sun shone, but some of the other rock formations further up the coast were just as spectacular, and less overrun by tourist coaches. The Bay of Islands has some fab orange cliffs falling away into the sparkling blue sea, a blow-hole where water is sucked in and out through a small hole in the rocks to make a massive farting noise, and London Bridge, which had indeed fallen down. We continued to drive along the coast, stopping frequently to admire the amazing scenery and, shortly before the evening's destination, Port Fairy, we visited a wildlife reserve called Tower Hill, where we caught our first glimpse of some kangaroos. We parked up, and immediately bumped into a couple of massive emus strutting their stuff, completely unfazed by us. As we walked on, Duncan spotted a couple of deer in the undergrowth - or so he thought until the deer bounced away. After that, we saw quite a few kangaroos hanging out and, like the emus, they seemed totally at ease with having humans wandering round their home. They watched us curiously, but didn't seem nervous about us and let us walk past them quite closely without bouncing away. We climbed to the summit of the volcano there, which gave us great views of the surrounding area, and out to sea, before returning to the car and heading on for the pretty little town of Port Fairy, where we had managed to book a couple of dorm beds to claw back some of the expense of the previous night's accommodation.

The next day we had a mammoth cross-country drive from Port Fairy, via the town of Ballarat, back via Melbourne to Phillip Island. Ballarat was an interesting gold-rush town, which had also been the site of the Eureka Stockade, when the Southern Cross flag was raised for the first time following a miners' dispute. We had lunch at a scenic lookout, and then went for a drive round the lake, which we were shocked to see had completely dried out as a result of the drought in Victoria over the past ten years. The lake's shores were lined with modern-looking rowing clubs, which were standing empty - it was a really sad sight.

We made it to Phillip Island in time to check in to another hostel and grab some fish 'n' chips for dinner before making our way to the south of the island, where the nightly 'Penguin Parade' takes place. We had reservations about this event. Football-style terracing had been built on the beach for up to 3000 people to sit every night to watch these poor penguins make the long haul from the sea to their nests in the dunes. What a cynical money-spinner; the tickets weren't cheap. But without actually getting over our concerns, our curiosity got the better of us and we joined the queues and sat shivering with all the other people on the beach, until we spotted a couple of brave little penguins venturing out of the water at the far end of the beach. They weren't that brave though - they thought about heading up the beach but soon rushed back into the water to wait for reinforcements as seagulls eyed them from the sand. A ranger told us that the seagulls wouldn't attack the penguins, but that they scared them and scared penguins often regurgitated the food that they had caught to bring home to their babies, giving the evil seagulls a free feed.

We watched as groups of penguins formed at the water's edge before bravely making a run for it, and heading up the beach towards the dunes in little packs, like soldiers at the D-Day landings. Given that this is something each penguin does about once every three days while they're nesting, they're not all that well adapted to having to make such a long walk - their waddle seems particularly clumsy and awkward and slow. As they made their way up into the dunes, we walked along the raised boardwalks that had been constructed over the dunes, under which the penguins could pass. The lights and the noise of the people worried us - surely this must be unsettling for the penguins? - but the rangers seemed unconcerned about it. The only rule that we had been told was a very strict one - no photography whatsoever. As we looked at one penguin, we noticed that it had a green light moving on it, heard a click and a surprised squawk from the penguin, and realised that a small huddled family were taking photos. Grrr. In true righteous Brit style we had a go at them and Duncan told them that they must be stupid, and to think of the animals, and we marched off. As we walked on along the boardwalk, we realised that the whole area around us was absolutely teeming with little penguins everywhere, and there was a very loud clamour of baby penguins begging for food off every penguin going past, not caring whether it was their parent or not. It was an incredible sight, and an amazing noise. When we got back to the car-park later on we dutifully checked under the car to make sure that no lost little penguin had made his way under it. We pulled out, and as we left we saw a group of three kangaroos hanging out in the dark on a grassy area nearby.

Next day, we visited a lovely little koala sanctuary on Phillip Island, where we learnt more about our furry friends - they sleep a lot during the day, they live in eucalyptus (gum) trees - each one of which can only sustain one koala - and their numbers are depleting due to logging and because they climb down their trees at the sides of roads at night to find food and haven't paid sufficient attention to the highway code. The sanctuary was also home to a wide array of different, brightly coloured birds, including a couple of very noisy kookaburras. And lots of insects, including some particularly pesky red ants.

We headed back into Melbourne, back to our nice St Arnaud hostel, and just had time to dump our bags before racing into town to return Toyah to her home; we very nearly didn't make it as we had forgotten to fill up the tank and had to battle Melbourne's confusing traffic rules to get to a petrol station, and then managed to park in the wrong car-park. Got there in the end though. That evening, we headed back to South Yarra for a night out on Chapel Street, which came highly recommended and didn't disappoint as a really lively street with loads of nice bars and restaurants - not to mention some great window shopping.

Next day, our penultimate in Melbourne, Emma took this last opportunity to do a little more research into her family, and Duncan did some more sightseeing, taking the free tourist tram around the heart of the city. Emma went to the Melbourne Hebrew Congregation, the synagogue based in South Yarra, to see whether her family might feature in the archives there. The helpful public relations guy there, Rony, showed her around the inside of the synagogue where, he said, attendance was generally pretty low apart from for special occasions. He pointed out the stained glass windows in the ceiling which depicted all the main Jewish tribes, including the Levys, and showed her the velvet curtains behind which were kept the Jewish testaments which formed the basis of the faith. Having never really paid any attention whatsoever to Jewish practises, this was all new and interesting to Emma. He then showed her the records that were kept of marriages held in the synagogue over the past hundred years - plenty of Levys but none that she recognised as belonging to her family.

The only other person that might be able to help, he said, was the synagogue archivist and historian. Well, it would be great to talk to him, of course, if he wouldn't mind being called at home… Rony called him and he was more than willing to talk to Emma. When she told him her great-grandfather's name, the man at the other end of the phone nearly gave her a heart attack when he said - 'yes, we're definitely related'. Turns out that this man, who she had hoped might be able to help in the search for family by having access to some archives, was in fact family himself - what are the chances of that?? Third cousin, to be precise - his great-grandmother was Emma's great-grandfather's sister. Emma then went to visit him at his home in Toorak, where he showed her all sorts of documentation that he had accumulated over the years about his family tree - although not a great deal about the Levy side, so there are still mysteries there. But he remembered her great-grandfather who lived to a grand old age, and talked fondly of him.

We met up again later on, to compare notes about our days and have a top-notch Bloody Mary, before doing one of the must-dos of tourism in Melbourne: taking a lift up to the top of the Rialto tower, Melbourne's second tallest building. The views were spectacular and we watched the sunset (Emma clinging on for dear life due to her recently-acquired vertigo). Then we headed over to the Italian quarter for dinner, where there was a street festival going on, to finish off our stay in Victoria with some good Italian food and red wine.