Georgie Tunny: Glaring difference between Sydney and Melbourne
Presenter Georgie Tunny recently moved from the Victorian capital to the Harbour City. And there’s one glaring difference she’s noticed between the two cities.
“There was never that feeling here.”
My friend Sam and I were chatting the other day. Catching up and comparing scars after two pandemic years. I was based in Melbourne during the world’s longest lockdown. He was based in Sydney throughout NSW’s prolonged shut-ins. We learned quickly there were telling differences in how we viewed Covid-19 restrictions and, more pertinently, how we viewed them being eased.
Not because of politics.
Not because of any divergences in our social consciences.
But because – to quote hapless fictional lawyer Dennis Denuto in the iconic Australian film The Castle – “It’s just the vibe of it”.
I’ve recently relocated to the Harbour City. And almost immediately, I felt lighter. New South Welshman have a “she’ll be right” attitude to restrictions. Covid-19 measures don’t dominate every conversation and thought. They’re omnipresent, sure, but not suffocatingly so.
Victorians – understandably over the past two years – were the opposite.
Consciously, it didn’t register as we crossed the border, nor when we unpacked box after box; but it did, as the Omicron wave crested over the summer.
I felt a familiar sense of dread.
I fell back into a familiar daily routine, effortlessly: get up, check the case numbers, go to work, wait for the NSW Premier’s press conference, head straight home – do not pass Go and do not collect $200. Repeat.
It was a self-imposed shadow lockdown. Because that’s what Melbourne had taught me to do. Even the smallest outbreak there almost always led to months and months of lockdown.
Melbourne in 2020 was something else. There was a very real sense that any venture outside could lead to a Covid-19 diagnosis.
Suburbs were patrolled by ADF troops, curfews were enforced, public housing towers were locked in, strangers yelled at each other in the street, reprimanding people for either not wearing masks or not wearing them correctly; and though residents adhered to the strictest measures with little complaint, the collective spirit splintered.
At times, it felt insurmountable.
NSW residents, by comparison, were pragmatically positive.
On New Year’s Eve, while Sydneysiders were investigating beer gardens and outdoor seating options at their favourite public venues, Melburnians kept things low-key – a small barbecue in the backyard with close friends only – or they simply cancelled plans altogether.
While Sydneysiders meet hospitality closures and density limits with optimism – “Clubs will reopen soon, where shall we go dancing first?” – Melburnians greet outbreaks with resignation – “Here we go again, see you in six months”.
For better or worse, mounting case numbers did not seem to ruin anyone’s day in NSW. The threat of catching Covid while not dismissed, was not overarching. There was a sense no one was dismantling their daily lives.
Of course, there are extenuating circumstances that have shaped this change.
Covid-19 vaccines did not exist; nor did an effective rollout during Melbourne’s many lockdowns.
Fast-forward to the Omicron wave this summer and many Australians were racing to get their booster shots, with a huge percentage of the population already double-dosed.
Regardless. The vibe was very different.
It’s been refreshing. And sobering.
Because as more restrictions ease across Australia’s two most populous states, which have both suffered through terrible periods of isolation, disaster fatigue and rising death tolls, I fear only one is ready to return to normal life.
Georgie Tunny is a presenter, news addict and proud Taylor Swift fan. You can stream her updates daily on Flash, a streaming service that brings together more than 25 news channels in one place. New to Flash? Try one month free. Offer ends 31 October, 2022