There’s no need to remind Melburnians that the pandemic was hard. There’s also no point – they can’t hear you, they live in Brisbane now.
The numbers in the news this week tell a grim story about Victoria’s net migration since Covid. ABS data shows more than 180,000 residents fled the state for others during the pandemic, a net loss of more than 30,000. It’s the first time Victoria has had negative interstate migration since 2008. In the second half of last year, Victoria lost 335 a day to interstate migration – to Queensland, mostly, which as I understand it is largely seafood buffets and fibreglass pineapples.
It’s silly to pretend not to understand why. For some, the pandemic provided flexibility that allowed them to rent trailers and high-tail it to coastal waters, rolling hills, and replica goldrush towns. For many others, repeated lockdowns and industry closures meant they simply couldn’t afford to live here any more.
Meanwhile, Queensland has seen an increase in population of more than 80,000 courtesy of other states, while regional Victoria is struggling under the bloat of new residents and their demand for a choice of local coffee roasters. Blow-ins have, in their haste, brought with them their city traffic, internet bandwidth hogging, and house prices.
As we face a “third wave” of Covid infections (it feels like so many more), it’s hard to imagine how ex-Melburnians could be enticed to come back. Whatever your feelings about the necessity of six lockdowns, they changed the spirit of this once-bustling city, perhaps for good. Properties are empty (RIP landlords). Hospitality is flagging under staff shortages. City footpaths have become a way to get to Hamilton rather than the office.
Until 2020, we had been steadily enticing newcomers with our strong job market and world-class universities. It wasn’t just that, though; Melbourne wooed out-of-towners with international festivals, quite good phone reception and way more late-night doughnut shops than anyone could ever need. Like other global cities, we offered a compelling hub for startups, tech bros and wellness bloggers, all within easy driving distance of snow, surf, wineries and other things that sound like a tourism brochure. I can sometimes be cynical about Melbourne, but almost everyone I went to school with in Adelaide has eventually moved here in search of a better – or at least more interesting – life.
Those vibes faded under the threat of infection and fines. By the end of the year, we had earned a reputation as the country’s most policed city, ground to a halt by extreme disease-control measures, however well-founded they might have been.
And while yes, we were recently named Australia’s most livable city, perhaps our trains are only running on time because no one is on them.
The uncertainty is still hard to bear in Melbourne. Even as governments ignore health advice to reintroduce mask mandates, we all remember how quickly it can change. We now know a city of this size (+/- 30,000) can be shut down in an instant. And when the cost of living is this high, one lost shift can have serious repercussions. Maybe it will take the end of Covid, whatever that means, to see our population flourish once more.
While we wait, there is a glimmer of hope.
This week also brought a tale as old as time: a pair of teenaged locals who fell in love, got a mechanic’s apprenticeship, almost had several affairs, and eventually moved away from Melbourne to live out their days in sunny Queensland.
But then they came home.
When Scott and Charlene Robinson returned to Erinsborough – Charlene still clad in denim boiler suit, the only clothes she owns – they bucked the trend. And yes, it was fictional, to commemorate the end of our iconic soap. But maybe these storyline tropes have more impact than we thought.
In its almost 37 years on the air, Neighbours sent countless departing residents to Queensland. Perhaps this is the lesson we learned from it – when times are tough, you get in a yellow cab and depart your cul-de-sac for warmer climates.
Certainly, that has been the message for tens of thousands of us during the pandemic. But if Ramsay Street’s most famous residents can come home, maybe there’s hope for the rest of our expats, too.
