It wasn’t all that long ago that Brunswick East was voted the sixth coolest suburb in the world. And hipper than anywhere else in Australia. No big deal to those of us in Brunswick East, we probably didn’t even read the article. And it was nothing we didn’t already know anyway.
But why do we love it here? It’s not because of Lygon Street, which has had something of a glow-up in recent years from the dirtier, working-class cousin of the Carlton end, when it was populated mainly by warehouses and mechanics and other things that people need to live but never seem to count in making somewhere “liveable” in the eyes of real estate agents. The gangland violence that used to be an occasional feature of Brunswick East has seemingly, mercifully paused and it now has bars, restaurants, cafes, apartment towers, a heaving night scene, a pool hall, at least three artisan gelaterias in surrounding streets, and a frankly staggering number of hairdressers.
And it’s not the parks that make us love our suburb, although we have plenty. We need them. Because we have thousands of apartment-dwellers here – our population has more than doubled over the last 20 years. And even if you’re lucky enough to have a backyard, it’s a small one.
We have the pocket-sized Methven Park with its heritage trees and its portable soccer goals, purchased by local residents (us) for everyone to use, from local kids (ours), to visiting picnickers, to tradies on their lunch break working on their penalties. Goals that have seen kids go from kicking a soccer ball for the very first time to absolutely torching their parents in the annual kids v grown-ups showdown. And which are now a treasured public asset that only a monster would steal from the park in the dead of night. (Honestly, if this was you, total amnesty, we just want our goal back.) Methven is a park that plays host to dogs, of course, but also kids’ birthdays, an epic Christmas party, the odd wedding, and generally come 6am, a few teens at the fag-end of a big night smoking ciggies on the swings. Romance is still alive in Brunswick East.
To the north is Jones Park, with its home-made downhill mountain bike run through the trees where I watched a boy on his bike (who may or may not have been in my care) hit an epic jump at about 35km/h, and almost immediately have his speed reduced by a tree to zero km/h, with his collarbone absorbing most of that energy and snapping in the process. (Apologies, again, to Miro and his parents.)
And, of course, on our eastern boundary is CERES, the jewel in the crown of Brunswick East’s parks, our beloved creek-side community garden, urban farm, and environmental education centre, enjoyed by the people of Brunswick East from toddlers in the sandpit to retirees tending their garden plot. An absolute triumph of social vision, passion for the local environment, and community togetherness that has brought joy to the people of Brunswick East for nearly 45 years.
All these things – the parks, the microbreweries, the gelaterias, the laundromats (hundreds) – are great, and we love them, but what really makes Brunswick East wonderful is the people who live in it. And that’s everyone, at every age, from every place.
We have the 20-somethings in apartments and share houses who spill out of Lygon Street bars on a Friday night. And the kids on their bikes riding to school in a noisy, irrepressible pack. The new babies making use of our adorable Maternal Child Health Centre (it’s next to the new cafe and specialty coffee roastery powered exclusively by renewable energy – I know, we’re insufferable).
There are the young families rugging up for an improvised Moonlight Cinema in the park. And while it’s true that the demographic of Brunswick East skews young, you still see the old families having the same bruschetta at the Quarry Hotel that they’ve been having for 30 years. As well as the old Italians who arrived in the ’50s and ’60s, like Antonio across the road who welcomed us the day we moved in and then regularly popped over for a chat and to deliver biscuits for our boys. He was coming to visit with a tray of biscuits in his hand, as it happened, the wintry day he tripped on the kerb, broke his hip, was taken away in an ambulance and never came home to Brunswick East again. Now, his granddaughter lives in his house.
And that’s the real story of Brunswick East. That whatever new restaurant or bar or gelateria goes in (seriously, no more, we have enough now), the past of Brunswick East, the entire history of the place, is always present.
It’s there in the Merri Creek that was all but destroyed before its miraculous rehabilitation by devoted and passionate Brunswick East residents. It’s there in the lemon trees planted by Italian migrants in the ’50s and still thriving (and to the current owners: please prune off your gall wasp). It’s there every time I take my kids across to the Brunswick Baths, where my teenage Dad and his reprobate mates would terrorise innocent punters lining up for their ice-creams by bombing them from the 10-metre platform. Where today we swim right next to the level crossing where my grandfather used to open and close the gates, fuelled by the lunches that Dad would ride to him on his bike all the way from Hamilton Street (West Brunswick, but we’ll allow it).
Four generations. In and around Brunswick East. And that’s just my family. There are thousands more stories like this here, families like this, with more arriving every day. And the greatest thing about Brunswick East: they’re all welcome, and they all make up a little part of the magic of our suburb.
Peter Mattessi is a screenwriter, and the co-creator and executive producer of Return To Paradise on the ABC.
