Solo in Melbourne: The Ultimate 10-Day Itinerary for Independent Explorers

Landing at Melbourne Airport after the short hop from Wellington, I felt that familiar travel anticipation—the prelude to discovery. Rather than rushing, I took the SkyBus into the city, using the time to acclimate and observe the changing landscape through the window, much like the gradual build of an orchestral introduction.

I'd chosen a modest but comfortable accommodation at Brady Hotels Central Melbourne, strategically positioned near the State Library Victoria where I planned to spend time researching Australian opera archives. The hotel struck that perfect mid-range balance—clean, central, with enough amenities without unnecessary extravagance.

My first morning began with a ritual I maintain wherever I travel: finding a local coffee shop and watching the city wake up. Melbourne's coffee culture isn't just renowned—it's practically religious. At Patricia Coffee Brewers, standing elbow-to-elbow with locals in the tiny standing-room-only space, I savored what might be the finest flat white in the Southern Hemisphere while planning my day.

The State Library Victoria became my academic basecamp for the morning—its La Trobe Reading Room a cathedral of knowledge with its octagonal shape and stunning dome. The acoustics reminded me of concert halls I've studied, where every whisper carries meaning.

Afternoon found me wandering the famous laneways—Hosier Lane with its ever-changing street art gallery and Degraves Street with its European café ambiance. I captured the vibrant murals with my trusty mirrorless camera, which has become indispensable for documenting my travels in changing light conditions.

Day two began with an early morning visit to Queen Victoria Market—a cacophony of vendors, aromas, and local produce that has been Melbourne's community gathering place since 1878. I spent hours wandering the historic sheds, talking with vendors about their wares, and eventually settling on a simple breakfast of fresh fruit and artisanal bread that put grocery stores to shame.

Melbourne's Southbank precinct represents the city's cultural heartbeat—where the Yarra River provides a reflective backdrop to some of Australia's premier performing arts venues. As someone who left a telecommunications career to pursue music history, this neighborhood felt like coming home.

The Arts Centre Melbourne became my focal point, its distinctive spire calling to me like a beacon. I'd timed my visit to coincide with a production of Wagner's 'Die Walküre' by Opera Australia—an extraordinary performance that reminded me why I'd chosen this academic path at 60. The acoustics in the State Theatre were impeccable, allowing every nuance of the orchestra to reach even my seat in the upper circle.

Before the performance, I spent hours in the Australian Music Vault, a free permanent exhibition celebrating Australian contemporary music. The interactive displays tracing the evolution of Australian opera particularly fascinated me, providing valuable context for my thesis work.

The following day, I crossed the pedestrian bridge to explore the National Gallery of Victoria. As a student again, I've learned to appreciate the value of a good notebook, and my travel journal quickly filled with observations about the Australian art collections and their connection to the musical traditions I'm studying.

For lunch, I treated myself to the NGV's Gallery Kitchen, where the seasonal menu reflected the same creative spirit as the exhibitions. While not budget dining, the experience of enjoying thoughtfully prepared food while overlooking the sculpture garden provided a moment of reflection on how art forms—culinary, visual, musical—converse with each other across mediums.

The evening brought me to Southgate's riverside restaurants, where I dined solo but not lonely, engaging in conversation with neighboring tables about their Melbourne experiences. This is the beauty of solo travel at my age—people are curious about the American retiree studying music in New Zealand, now exploring Australia with notebook in hand. These conversations often yield the best local recommendations.

While music history is my current academic pursuit, basketball has been my lifelong passion—the reason I first discovered Wellington during a tournament years ago. Melbourne's sporting culture rivals its artistic one, and I couldn't pass up the opportunity to explore this aspect of the city's identity.

My fifth day began with the essential pilgrimage to the Melbourne Cricket Ground (MCG), a venue that inspires reverence among sports fans worldwide. The MCG tour provided fascinating insights into Australian sporting history, though as a basketball enthusiast, I was particularly looking forward to my next stop.

Melbourne is home to Australia's National Basketball League teams, and I'd arranged my visit to coincide with a Melbourne United home game at John Cain Arena. The atmosphere was electric—different from NBA games back home, but with the same fundamental appreciation for the sport. I found myself analyzing the game's rhythm and flow much as I would a musical composition, noting the tempo changes, the improvisational elements, and the moments of harmonic teamwork.

For serious basketball fans visiting Melbourne, I recommend packing a proper basketball jersey as Australians appreciate authentic fan gear, and it's a great conversation starter. Mine led to an invitation to join a pickup game the following morning at a local court with a group ranging from university students to fellow retirees.

Day six brought me to the Melbourne Sports Hub where I spent the morning shooting hoops with my new acquaintances before heading to the Olympic Park precinct. The architectural dialogue between sporting venues here tells the story of Melbourne's evolution as a world-class sporting destination.

That afternoon, I took a welcome break at the Royal Botanic Gardens, finding a quiet spot beside Ornamental Lake to rest my legs and reflect on my journey so far. At 60, I've learned to pace myself—alternating active exploration with contemplative moments. The gardens provided the perfect setting for this, with the city skyline visible through the trees, a visual reminder of the urban excitement waiting beyond this green sanctuary.

One of the joys of having ten days in Melbourne is the luxury of exploring beyond the obvious tourist circuits. Days seven and eight were dedicated to experiencing the city's distinctive neighborhoods, each with its own cultural tempo and character.

Fitzroy called first, with its bohemian spirit and Brunswick Street's eclectic mix of vintage shops, independent bookstores, and globally inspired eateries. At 60, I've developed an appreciation for secondhand bookshops that rivals my love for basketball courts, and I spent a blissful morning at Brunswick Street Bookstore, where I found several rare Australian music history volumes to add to my research collection.

Lunch at Naked for Satan—a quirky pintxos bar with rooftop views—provided both nourishment and perspective. From this vantage point, I could see Melbourne's architectural diversity, from Victorian terraces to contemporary apartments, a visual representation of the city's layered history.

The afternoon brought me to Carlton, Melbourne's Little Italy, where I indulged in what might be the best gelato outside of Rome at Pidapipó. The university atmosphere here reminded me of my own student life in Wellington—the cafés filled with animated discussions, textbooks splayed across tables alongside coffee cups.

Day eight took me south to St Kilda, Melbourne's seaside neighborhood. The tram ride itself was enjoyable, watching the urban landscape gradually give way to glimpses of Port Phillip Bay. I'd brought my compact binoculars which proved invaluable for spotting the famous St Kilda penguins at dusk without disturbing their natural behavior.

Before sunset, I strolled along the historic St Kilda Pier, then found a perfect viewing spot near the breakwater. As darkness fell, the tiny fairy penguins began returning from their day at sea—a natural symphony perfectly timed to nature's rhythm. Fellow wildlife watchers shared their spotting scopes and knowledge, another example of how solo travel often leads to momentary but meaningful connections.

Dinner at Donovans, overlooking the bay, was my one splurge meal—a reminder that solo dining can be a pleasure rather than a predicament. The seafood platter featured local catches prepared with respect for the ingredients, much like a well-conducted orchestra highlighting each instrument's unique voice.

My penultimate day in Melbourne was dedicated to exploring beyond the city limits. The Great Ocean Road beckoned, but as a music scholar, I opted instead for a day trip to Bendigo to visit the Ulumbarra Theatre—a remarkable performance venue constructed within a former prison. The juxtaposition of a 19th-century penitentiary transformed into a space for artistic expression fascinated me both architecturally and philosophically.

The V/Line train journey from Southern Cross Station provided glimpses of Victoria's countryside—a visual palette shift from urban Melbourne to golden fields and eucalyptus forests. I'd packed my travel daypack with essentials for the journey, including water, snacks, and my ever-present notebook.

The Ulumbarra Theatre tour offered fascinating insights into how the space was reimagined while honoring its complex history. As someone studying the evolution of performance spaces, seeing this adaptive reuse firsthand was invaluable to my understanding of how architecture shapes acoustic experiences.

Bendigo Art Gallery provided an unexpected highlight—its collection of Australian art complementing my studies of how visual and musical arts evolved in parallel throughout Australian cultural history.

My final day in Melbourne began with a morning visit to the Australian Centre for Contemporary Art in Southbank—its rust-colored steel exterior as bold a statement as the works housed within. The exhibition on sound art created perfect synchronicity with my academic interests.

For lunch, I returned to Queen Victoria Market for one last sensory experience, creating a picnic from various vendors' offerings and enjoying it in the adjacent Flagstaff Gardens.

My afternoon was spent in practical preparations for departure, but I reserved the evening for a final cultural indulgence—a chamber music performance at Melbourne Recital Centre. The program featured works by Australian composers including Peter Sculthorpe, whose integration of indigenous sounds with classical forms has been central to my research.

As I sat in the acoustically perfect Elisabeth Murdoch Hall, I reflected on how this 10-day solo journey had enriched both my academic understanding and personal experience. At 60, traveling alone allows for a different kind of immersion—one where conversations flow easily, where schedule flexibility accommodates both scholarly pursuits and spontaneous discoveries, and where the city reveals itself at exactly the right tempo.