My trip to Castlemaine

I spent the day in the town of Castlemaine, a few hours by train from Melbourne, a place in which I had thought I might feel at home. My grandfather on my mother's side was born in Castlemaine, though I understand that the family soon moved to nearby Bendigo, a larger town I myself visited about a year ago, on a sunny Autumn day. I enjoyed my time in Bendigo a great deal. The Victorian architecture, built during the goldrush, is still a remarkable sight, and the town itself has a strangely European feel. By contrast, Castlemaine's architecture is Georgian in style; the gold ran out quickly and few impressive buildings were completed after about 1880. One exception is the Castlemaine art gallery, an art deco building completed in 1931, which stands just outside of the main street. The gallery, which I visited today, holds an impressive selection of Australian paintings, including works by E. Phillips Fox and Rupert Bunny among others. There wasn't anything there approaching genius, but the gallery was well worth visiting all the same. Down some stairs was a museum of local history which, so the woman at the counter told me, few people knew about. Downstairs I found a curious mixture of clothing, old photographs, crockery, stuffed animals and other items, much of which appeared almost randomly assembled. I walked around, completely alone except for a maintenance worker who was hammering away at something unseen.

Following my visit to the gallery I had afternoon tea at the local tea rooms. The tea rooms were just as you imagine; lace curtains, little chairs and tables, and a woman behind the counter in her 60s who, I couldn't help but think, must have somehow always been this age and was never young. It was impossible to imagine that as recently as 1980 she would have been in her 30s. The woman welcomed me inside, and then quickly told me she was all out of salad. I ordered the Devonshire tea. I was the only customer, and I wondered whether, despite what she had said about the salad, I was in fact the only customer the tea house had seen that day. It certainly seemed possible. I drank my tea and ate my scones in silence, while the woman busied herself in the kitchen, sweeping the tiny space over and over.

Castlemaine did not appear, to me at least, to be a particularly friendly place. There was a curious dearth of young people, and the older ones appeared, or so I thought, to look at me with some slight suspicion. One old man whistled loudly at me, and then pointed down the main street. When I approached him he didn't speak, but merely let out a short laugh. Perhaps he was insane. Well, after walking around the town for an hour or so I decided to leave. With my train not due for another half an hour, I decided to have a drink in the nearby railway hotel. The barman greeted me in a friendly fashion, and I bought a pint of the local brew, a rather tasteless, though reasonably refreshing, lager. We spoke about the large storm which had caused some damage through various parts of the state. Castlemaine had been spared, the barman told me. But the he proceeded to show me a picture of the hotel taken about a year ago, when the area had been badly affected by floods. The picture showed the hotel's proprietor, an older, white bearded man, sitting nonchalantly outside his establishment while the waters rose to more than a metres height in the street in front of him.

On my way home three American backpackers sat behind me on the train. For a little while I listened to their conversation, presuming that I might hear another outsider's opinion of the town we have both visited. At first they talked of little other than their personal lives, and spoke nothing of Castlemaine or of their travels throughout the goldfields, or indeed, Australia itself. Instead, they spoke of their poor job prospects in the U.S. and how, despite "doing all the rights things", they still had little chance of finding a decent job upon graduation. The last I heard they were talking about how Australians made fun of their accents, even though "they're the ones who sound weird. And what about when they say 'easy as'!? Easy as what? Pie?"