What makes a neighbourhood cool? Sitting on the benches between a train station and a Hungry Jack’s, shooing away pigeons, I’ve come to find out. Burwood – where I got my first job, struggled through maths tutoring and passed my learner’s driving hazard perception test (twice) – has recently been named Australia’s coolest suburb and the 16th coolest in world. But why?
With $100 in hand, Guardian Australia executive producer Stephen Byrne and I go in search of answers.
4pm: festival in the park
Fate has brought us to Burwood on Korea Day, and the park on the suburb’s main road is pulsing.
A few dozen food stalls have been set up, and we are immediately hit by the smell of spice and frying garlic.
Pumping music and an enthusiastic voice booms over loudspeakers, followed by laughter and applause. We find the source of the noise on a wide lawn where families gather around, watching children compete in physical challenges. The atmosphere is so alive – as are the many ibises flocking around bins nearby.
As the sun begins to set, we exit on to Burwood Road to behold the behemoth monument, national treasure and bringer of suburban life: Westfield.
It’s a bit dirty isn’t it, Stephen says. Blasphemy.
5pm: a feast (and magic show) in Chinatown
Our next stop is Burwood Chinatown night markets, which are only a few years old and set up outside the two-storey indoor-outdoor labyrinth that is Burwood Chinatown – the suburb’s cover girl.
Standing under bright lights between tiny kitchens, we chat with passersby. Some are shocked to hear Burwood has been welcomed into an international cool club, but mostly they’re proud.
A young man who grew up nearby says: “The vibes, the food, the people, you can’t really get this anywhere else right?”
He’s not wrong about the food. Surrounded by options, I’m overwhelmed, and he suggests I try banh xeo taco (also a favourite of our video producer and occasional food critic Bertin Huynh). I order two crisp Vietnamese crepes served handheld like tacos – one soft-shell crab, another pho bo stir. Next door is a vegetarian pancake place everyone talks about, so I grab one of those too. I also spot a Turkish stall serving baklava, which I legally have to eat every time I see it, so I pick some up for dessert.
En route to a spot on the upstairs balcony, we stop to chat to a vendor, 15-year-old Dimi who runs the House of Lim kitchen with his dad, and is also the Australian junior champion of magic! Out of thin air, a deck of cards materialises; Dimi asks me to pick a card, hides it in the deck and places a different card in my hand. Then he taps the card in my hand and it turns into the first card I picked. His final trick is a serve of fully loaded special chicken noodles and broth.
We splay the spoils across a table and feast. A tangy “secret sauce” freshens the tacos, while the vegetable pancakes are flaky and moreish. The noodles are rich, spicy and comforting. I keep the baklava for the road.
7pm: life up, down and around the main street
After sundown, Burwood Road’s shopfronts light up in fluorescent shades of red, purple, pink and green.
Burwood is thronging with people moving between restaurants and dessert bars. I spot a few highly recommended joints – Xi’an Eatery, My Aunt’s Handmade Noodles, Apandim Uyghur restaurant, Royal Treasure Seafood restaurant and 1915 Lanzhou Beef Noodles, which has a queue down the block.
A kind man sees me eye a glorious-smelling lamb shop and offers me a skewer he just bought for himself. Two teens who said hello earlier wave and tell me they’ve headed back to Burwood after an afternoon in the city.
Shop workers, firefighters, locals and visitors stop us to chat. Maybe it’s my magnetic aura and dazzling smile! Or maybe it’s the massive video camera, Stephen says.
We visit Ice Kirin for tea-infused mochi gelato. A subtle oolong peach for me and stronger-tasting matcha for Stephen. Here we befriend a man who travels an hour each week just to hang out in Burwood.
“It’s about … the food,” he says. “You just learn something new every time you come. There’s always something you can try.”
Somehow four hours have passed and it’s already 8pm. We’ve walked through Emerald Square, the older Burwood Plaza and are back on the main street. Our night is coming to an end, but not just yet. In a bright studio next to a small church on the main road we spy photo booth karaoke – Hama Film x Kono Karaoke Burwood. With a $5 note you can sing your heart out for 10 minutes behind soundproof glass.
We hop into the booth next to a mother and her young son dressed up in a smart suit and sunglasses, and end the night on an Abba high.
On the walk back to the train station, I realise my shock at Burwood’s cool status was misplaced.
I remember part of Time Out’s criteria: “Places that represent the soul of our cities.” Burwood certainly has it.
