From the tiny village of Kynigou in Messinia, just outside Kalamata, to the uber-urban Melbourne, Kostas Petropoulos’s journey was not simple, but was extraordinary.

“I arrived at 19, searching for a better job, a new beginning” he Petropoulos says to Neos Kosmos.

In December 1964 he boarded the ship Kypros to Limassol, then transferred to the iconic Patris, and reached Melbourne on January 28, 1965.

“I didn’t speak a word of English, I was distressed and lost,” he says.

He attended night school, but found it difficult, alienating so he gave up. Determined to learn though, he bought a book titled English Without a Teacher and taught himself. Over time, he succeeded.

Drawn in by a hat

Life in Melbourne wasn’t easy. Kostas lived with his brother and four other families in a house, until they found something more comfortable. Within two days, he landed his first job at a textile factory in East Bentleigh. Then there was a stint at Repco’s auto parts plant, and after, an electric heater factory.

“I kept changing jobs, always looking for something better” .

One visit changed everything Kostas says.

“I visited my cousin. He had just come home from work wearing a black uniform and a heavy cap with an insignia.”

The uniform impressed Kostas, “He looked like a general walking through the door”.

I asked him, ‘What do you do, cousin?’ and he said, ‘I’m a tram driver.’

“In that moment, I felt something pulling me toward it,” Kostas says.

With his cousin’s guidance, and fuelled by a determination to overcome the language barrier, so he could pass the recruitment test, Kostas was hired by the tram network. On March 15, 1968, he began work at the Malvern Depot as a conductor. It was the beginning of his life’s great journey.

A life on the rails

Kostas rose steadily through the ranks– he became a driver, then a depot starter, multifunctional officer, and in 1999, a Control Centre Operator.

“It’s incredible, everything I’ve lived through — line expansions, depot closures, privatisations — all the way to when Yarra Trams took over in 2004.”

He served as a union representative for 27 years, representing colleagues across depots and offices.

“I was right there during the famous 33-day tram strike of 1989.

“Trams weren’t just a job for me. They were family”.

In 2023, at the age of 78, he climbed Mount Olympus alone, carrying a handmade Yarra Trams banner to the summit.

“I’d promised my colleagues. I had to do it.”

It was his third time conquering the mountain — and he’s planning a fourth.

Collecting… memories

The tramways gave Kostas many moments of joy — but also ones that tested his reflexes and his heart.

Once on Toorak Road, at the end of a steep incline where trams would terminate, he says, “the pantograph had come off, and maintenance had to fix it. The driver and technician were up on the roof, trying to detach it”.

He was a road inspector that day and had arrived before anyone else.

“As I watched, I realised the tram had begun rolling downhill — with no one at the controls. My heart pounded. I ran as fast as I could, jumped on through the back, and yanked the handbrake with all my strength.

“If I hadn’t, it would have ploughed into cars or pedestrians. That moment is etched into me.”

There were also funny events.

He recalls how as a conductor on High Street, a blind passenger needed help getting off and onto the footpath and as Kosta helped him off, the light had changed, and the driver — who hadn’t waited for the signal bell — drove off without Kosta.

“I had to catch the next tram. Luckily, he realised I was missing and waited for me down the line.”

Despite his deep love for the work, there’s one thing he doesn’t miss: the physical toll.

“The conductor’s bag was so heavy, full of coins. We begged passengers to pay with notes. And when we gave change in coins, arguments would sometimes break out.”

“I remember winters so cold I couldn’t count money with my frozen hands and summers when the heat was unbearable, made worse by packed carriages.

“The trams back then were nothing like today’s — we had canvas blinds and a wooden bar to stop people falling out.”

Then and now: Melbourne through tram windows

After nearly six decades observing passengers come and go, Kostas has seen Melbourne — and society — transform.

“Back then, the city shut down by 6pm. Buildings were only three or four storeys tall. Now it’s skyscrapers. People used to work hard and always paid their fares. Today, half the passengers don’t pay — they cause trouble, steal bags. We used to leave money outside for the milkman, now we lock up everything,” he says with a note of sorrow.

The end of the line, or a new beginning?

Though he could have retired much earlier, Kostas resisted. After 57 years, he finally stepped down.

“It took me two months to accept it, the trams were my home. I loved them because they didn’t just give me a job — they gave me a life.

“I can’t let go completely. I’ll still drop by and see my colleagues now and then.”

A new chapter began — without timetables and shifts— filled with old passions.

“At home I’ve got a huge library of books and notes on archaeology and mythology. I’ve loved those things my whole life. Who knows — maybe I’ll even write a book,” he says.

Kostas never misses a meeting at the “Philosophical Café,” where he and other members discuss ” fascinating topics,” and he’s planning trips with his wife.

“There are still places we haven’t seen — now’s the time.”

Does he consider moving back to Greece?

“No, I don’t think so. My family is here now.”

Next Stop: Dream Street

Who is Kostas Petropoulos? “A man who’s crazy about trams, archaeology, and mythology. That’s my life.”

If not for the trams, he may have “followed a different path” says Kostas.

“Maybe gone to university. Maybe I still will… who knows?” he says.

After 57 years riding Melbourne’s tramlines, Kostas Petropoulos says goodbye to his professional family — but not to his dreams.

Because it’s never too late to start a new journey, even if it begins at a book’s first page, a café conversation, or a university lecture hall.