Some trips beg for tight plans and dinner reservations. Melbourne is not one of them. Melbourne asks you to wander, to leave a trail of half-formed ideas, and then let the city fill in the blanks. Like music, it’s the rests between the notes that carry the magic.

With that top of mind, this weekend I’d like to get to South Melbourne Market, because that’s where the locals are, and where flaky pastries and flat whites come standard issue. There’s no agenda beyond wandering: tasting, smelling, and people watching.

City life deserves a brush with beauty, and I hope to drift through the halls at the National Gallery of Victoria. No clock, no one rushing me along, heading to see their vast collection of First Nations works.

If the weather cooperates, I’ll steal a few hours on the Mornington Peninsula. Fingers crossed that the last day of winter (Southern Hemisphere!) will be kind and allow a trek along Bushrangers Bay, the briny scent of sea and eucalyptus as my companions. And for Pol Perro and Foxy’s Hangout in Red Hill to pull me in for a glass of wine or a long lunch.

Before my flight back to Bali on Sunday, it’s Fitzroy, for vintage shops, street art, and a laneway café.

The plan is simple: keep it loose, leave space for detours, and remember that the rests are often the best part. Lingering, drifting, saying yes to the unexpected. The beauty of traveling off script: discovering that the interludes, as much as the crescendos, are what stay with you long after the weekend ends.

Trip report with details, coming next week…