As the evening progressed, and they showed us videos of the horse racing and all the hoopla that went with it, and after several champagnes, Robin and I thought why not go to Melbourne to see what all this fuss is about.

So here we are, November 2, ready for our first Melbourne Cup.

Australians don’t do dress up.  I’ve been to several what I thought were dress-up events in Sydney before, only to find out every single time that I was completely over-dressed for the occasion.

I’m delighted to say that as we were walking to the Flinders Street train station in Melbourne to catch the train to the Flemington Race Track, we were totally impressed.  Ozzies dressed to the max.  Yes, many a girl didn’t know how to walk in her high pumps, those dresses were just a tad too short for class, and the hats were sliding sideways as they were walking for they weren’t pinned on properly.  And then there were the men with un-ironed shirts and buckles with funny animals on them.  But there was a definite A+ for effort.  What I saw was class-y!

Flemington was teeming with activity. The first thing we noticed was the car park. People had set up marquees in the car park, right next to their cars, with drinks and food laid out on plastic tables and men in three-piece suits and women tottering in their high-heels and tight outfits talking, laughing, playing fancy … in the car park.  There was definitely something very Simpson-esque about this sight.

I know nothing about horse racing. It ends up being that the whole week is full of races, but the main races are on the first Tuesday of November, which is also a public holiday in Victoria. And on this Tuesday, there is no more important of a race than the 3pm Emirates Melbourne Cup (prize money = $6 million) which altogether took 3 minutes to complete. I had envisioned these horses to be running round and round the track, but they actually only do 3200m which amounted to one long lap … so the race is finished before you even know it.

I think each day has about 8-10 different races, so ample opportunity to make some cash on horse betting.  Which is what it’s all about. For the main race, I had selected a horse called ‘Zavite’.  Someone told me to pick a horse and name that speaks to you. In Slovene, Zavite nearly sounds like twisted and I thought my horse was going to be twisted enough to win.

I also saw one called ‘Americain’. During my Brussels days, I loved flet Americain (steak tartare) so thought that would be a good contender too.  But I decided to only bet on one.  I also decided to not listen to our taxi driver in Singapore, who on the way to the airport told us to bet on ‘So you think’.

The day was characterised with downpours. The grounds were wet. And as you walked around the general area, your shoes picked up all the hay and mud they could find.  Not a pretty image when you’re playing dress-up.  Especially for the women who were wearing open-toe stilettos … the front covered in mud, the heel poking through all the leaves that they walked over.  Mess!

Thankfully we were in the Birdcage, where companies have their hospitality suites.  Free-flow sparkling wine, canapes and most importantly a roof to shield us from the rain. Out of all the hospitality suites I saw, the winner has to be Lavazza. For the entire day they had this gorgeous model sitting in their window, pretending to sip espressos … for the whole day!  I don’t know how she entertained herself for all those hours! The coffee buzz at least kept her from falling asleep.

At exactly 3pm, amidst a downpour, the horses jumped out of their race boxes for the main race. My heart jumped as well. ‘Zavite’ was in the top three from the get-go.  The woman next to me said to not get overly excited for it’s the last 20 seconds that truly decide the race.  Who cares.  I was already seeing copious amounts of $$$.

And wouldn’t you know it, in the last 20 seconds my horse went from top-three to LAST!!!  Yes, to the very end!

And you know who won?  Americain!  I should have gone with my love for food!  And ‘So you can win’ came third.  I should have listened to my cab driver in Singapore.

In the late afternoon, and plenty tipsy, we headed back to our hotel. Walking through the main grounds was a mess. Besides the trash everywhere, the people were a mess. The girls completely drunk, pumps in hand, mud up to their knees, stumbling and trying to catch their balance and their dresses hiked up.  Very high up!  The guys were no better.

The icing on the cake came when we entered our hotel.  As the elevator door opened, on the floor was a young couple, obviously on their way back from the Melbourne Cup. The fancy outfit gave them away. Well, they were lying on the floor totally zoned out, for they had been riding up and down with the elevator, unable to figure out how to insert the room key into the card-reader and then press their floor. And laughing. And rolling around. And laughing some more.

That is when it dawned on me. The Cup was just another excuse for Ozzies to get drunk. And dressed up. Except that this time it actually took 6 hours to go from flash to trash.

Follow Bojan’s travel reviews on his blog www.gowithbo.info

Featured image credit (Postage stamp honoring the Melbourne Cup horse race): Ockra/iStock