Being an Ambassador

Coming into the city late via an unfamiliar Carlton tram a few mornings ago, I experienced another of those delicious feelings of perhaps not going to work at all just yet, and wanting to sit in a coffee place and watch people go about their daily business at 9am. I had similar feelings when wandering around Fitzroy whilst Kim was in hospital a few months back. And at other times. I’m trying to pin down the source of such pleasure in the hope that it will lead me to a future career or at least a hobby that I can enjoy. There is nothing profound about it, but these moments: * Were in the morning and outside of my normal routine * At a location in the inner city * Were felt during unexpected spare time, when I was in no hurry * Involved a sense of being a small part of a bustling big city * Were experienced on my own * Sometimes involved a charitable act – helping someone find their way Some thoughts are starting to come together. Ash has pointed out that a number of times during our lunchtime walks I’ve mentioned how nice and friendly those Melbourne City Ambassadors seem, and that I secretly want to be one. ambass.jpg
“Melbournes award-winning city ambassadors are another good source of city information. Dressed in distinctive red uniforms, the ambassadors rove the retail centre of the city, dispensing directions or simply lending visitors a hand.” It appears that these folk are all in their 60’s, and after some quick research, are “limited by the bounds of Elizabeth, Flinders, Russell and Latrobe”, which I suppose is a reasonable piece of turf, but doesn’t allow for the sort of free-ranging tram-riding style I would hope to bring to the equation. I seem to have developed a lot of latent city-pride in recent years, after the Commonwealth Games, and even minor events like new public art can get me all gushy. So, maybe I’m a good candidate for it oneday – the street kids and buskers would leave you alone, and hopefully by 2020 it’ll be a paid position, even if red is not really my colour.