In Abbotsford, known as Carran-carramulk for thousands of years, meaning prickly myrtle. On the lands of the Wurundjeri-willam Custodians of the Kulin Nation.
Victoria Street is my oldest memory of Abbotsford. Wandering through the busy thoroughfare, trying to follow the scent of Pho for a warming winter lunch, lured by the promise of some of the city's finest (whilst being cheap enough for a student budget... a tall ask). I can't remember if I actually made it to the Pho shop or ducked in for Banh Mi instead, but I do remember thinking, this place feels alive.
There's an intimacy to Victoria Street, despite the grungy, gritty elements of some scenes. People are busy but welcoming, the lines are fast, there's little decorative moments like the Gateway Sculpture at the entrance or the red paper lanterns on Lunar New Year. It feels like a place you can blend in. And find amazing food.
At certain moments of the year, if you get lucky enough you might stumble into a streetwide festival like I did, ignorant of the dates. Quickly becoming swept up by the Chinese Dragons wandering down the road, and the people celebrating. Every year, another Zodiac, and that represents Victoria Street quite well to me. Whatever you come across, you will never see the same thing twice. It's always changing, moving, evolving.
Statue out the front of residential buildings, tucked beside Victoria Street
