It’s a long time since I’ve been to the Zoo. We went every month and more when I was a kid, a picnic park only a few tramstops away, with live animals, frightening animals, and a minimal entrance fee.
Costs more to get in now, a fair whack when you’re on a Senior Pension, so I was happy to participate in a visitor study. With a free ticket.
What did I think of Melbourne Zoo?
Still a good picnic park. Different places to walk, winding paths where little puffs of leaves blossom up from your feet, infuriatingly obscure signage and the heady spice of animal.
My goal was to find the Australian Bush Exhibit. Its goal was to change my toilet habits.
There was a strong message about toilet paper. Painted signs among the sleeping koalas.
I liked the little pathways luring me down into darkness and I was tempted to set out on one. However I was suddenly struck by a vision, you might well say premonition, and an image came to me of meeting, around a corner, a saltwater croc. My mother always said ‘trust your instincts’, so I did and headed for the nearest cafe instead.
The prices were too high for me, I’m annoyed when places like the Zoo and the Museum, enjoying exclusive control of the refreshment trade, jack up the cost of a coffee and cake to whatever they want. I should have brought a cut lunch.
The Zoo Shop is on my way out and I couldn’t resist its call.
I picked up this jar of I’m not sure what, and a small bead necklace thus paying out over $30 all up for the trip. You could say I was stung at the Zoo.