Marching on with getting the blog back up to date! Here's what went on during my first week in Australia and my long-awaited return to beautiful, wild Tasmania.
Jetlag, jetlag and more jetlag
On my first full day in Australia, having slept most of the previous day and remarkably well overnight, I dragged myself to the cafe just across from the hostel, had a nice healthy breakfast and dragged myself back. I had every intention of exploring. After all, I was staying in Bondi and even though I didn't fancy the crowds, I thought I should at least check out the beach.
As it was, I spent the day reading, writing and feeling a bit grotty. How delightful. I dragged myself back to the cafe to pick up some tea and that was it. No exploring. Nothing. Still, I did at least take a couple of photos. Here's the view from the hostel roof.
Not Bondi Beach, but pretty.
I also discovered, much to my annoyance, that the shuttle run by the hostel started later in the morning than I needed it. The buses were also going to be unhelpful. Which meant I had to book another taxi to return me to the airport. Ugh.
HI, TASSIE!
While there is a note in my journal that reads HI TASSIE, it's preceded by a lot of grumbling about the fact that I had to get up at 3am, because I had to get all my stuff together and stumble out to wait for what I knew would be another over-priced taxi.
When the friendly taxi driver dropped me off at Sydney's domestic terminal just after 4am, most of the airport wasn't even open. I had a fight with Jetstar's self-check-in, got the lady at the counter to fix it and then settled down with an enormous cup of tea to wait for the security area to open up. This is what I get for booking the first flight out of Sydney.
Of course, security did eventually get going, I toddled through and plonked myself down near my gate with one of those handy sockets they've started putting in airports so I could get some charge on the tablet.
And then my gate got changed because one of the crew was ill. Which is fine, but I had to tramp all the way to the other end of the terminal. It wasn't even 6am. My brain really wasn't in the mood.
Oh well. I'd been organised and paid for breakfast on the plane, so I nibbled a chocolate muffin and enjoyed another cup of tea as Tasmania slowly hove into view out of the window.
I love Tasmania. I studied there for a year when I was doing my degree and fell head over heels for it. It's quiet, it's wild and it has the most amazing wildlife. So despite it still being far too early according to my jetlagged brain, I was strangely chirpy when I finally arrived in Hobart.
In the interests of preserving my somewhat ragged brain function, I opted for another laid back day. First stop, a stroll out to Sandy Bay to see if I could locate my old student house, via lovely Salamanca.
The mission was a success, but given that the house is clearly no longer a student house and there were people working in the garden, I didn't dare take a photo. Shame. Still, I followed up that wandering with a trip to Banjos, which is possibly my favourite cafe in the world. They specialise in pies and they are delicious.
And then I spent the rest of the afternoon lazing around the hostel, saying hi to the hostel's dogs and trying to work out what I was going to do with my time in Tasmania. For the first time on this trip, I'd really let go of my need to plan things ages in advance. I had 5 nights booked in Hobart and that was it. For me, this was somewhat terrifying, but, well, I got used to it...
But I want to walk...
First thing on my list of things to do in Tassie was to go up Mount Wellington. It overlooks Hobart and I saw it every day from my house but never went up it while I lived there. I solved that by taking the free hostel shuttle up on the Monday morning.
Gorgeous views from the top, despite a few clouds. I'd fully intended to walk down. God knows how I did it - whether I'd slept funny or maybe slung my rucksack over my shoulder a bit too enthusiastically - but my back had been playing silly buggers all morning. I thought I'd be all right once I got moving, but as soon as I started wandering around at the summit, it hurt. Like hell. So I hopped back into the shuttle feeling annoyed. Maybe I would have been OK, but I really didn't like the thought of getting part way down the mountain and being in that much pain.
Instead I had yet another lazy afternoon, which was getting boring. Eventually I managed to lever myself out of the lounge and went in search of a new pair of sunnies, given that my current pair had just completely disintegrated after nearly 6 months on the road.
Be amazed, people who know me. I not only bought a new pair of sunglasses, I also bought a nice sundress. I figure I'll be needing it in the heat.
And then I made another failed attempt at bloggery. Good god, I'm getting bad at this.
Booking galore
After visiting somewhere new on the Monday, on the Tuesday I decided to revisit one of my favourite places in Hobart, the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery (TMAG). It's free entry, which helps. It's also had a major overhaul since I was living there, with a whole new gallery space and a big redesign on the old galleries.
Unfortunately, the old galleries were closed for redisplay, so I had to make do with the new ones. I wasn't disappointed. There are some fascinating little things in there, going back to the early days when Tasmania was a major destination for the convict ships. There's also a great new exhibition about the impact that colonisation (or invasion) had on the Aboriginal population, especially interesting since Tasmania is the only state where the native people were near enough wiped out.
From the museum, I stopped by the tourist info centre and then spent the rest of my afternoon booking trips galore - Bonorong Wildlife Park, Bruny Island, Wineglass Bay and Cradle Mountain. The next few days looked set to be pretty busy.
Whale farming?
First stop of the day - Bonorong Wildlife Park, another place I wanted to revisit. Bonorong is a rescue centre as much as anything, taking in injured wildlife with the aim of rehabilitating and releasing. They have a lovely little collection, like this beautiful young wombat, who slept through everyone patting her bum.
And Fred the cockatoo, who will be living out his days at Bonorong as an ex-pet. I had a rather one sided conversation with him, since all he says is "hello, Fred."
Fun fact: because Fred was a pet, they know how old he is and he's over 100. Cockatoos are known to be long lived, but still, that's pretty impressive. Friendly old chap.
My favourites at Bonorong though are the roos. These guys aren't for release, so you get to feed them. Surprisingly gentle, but very persistent. They will hang onto your hand so you can't leave and anyone silly enough to lower the bag will have it taken from them.
Following on from the lovely, laid back atmosphere at Bonorong, I visited MONA. That's the Museum of Old and New Art and it is bizarre. The collection is a hodge podge of mainly modern pieces, although I did find some cuneiform tablets and a print of The Great Wave Off Kanagawa.
Half of the collection seems to be NSFW. Like the wall of plaster cast genitals...
Basically, MONA is interesting as a one off thing, but it's not somewhere I'd be hurrying back to. And this is coming from someone who appreciates weird. MONA feels like it's just there to get a reaction out of people. It's almost shallow.
Anyways, moving on from my half-hearted critique of MONA, I spent the evening trying to be social. This wasn't too hard - I got chatting to a couple of folks at the hostel. All was going well until I had to explain to one of them that whale farming isn't a thing. Oh god. And then I overheard someone saying she hadn't realised that Scandinavia wasn't a country.
At this point my brain pulled a big fat nope on me, which is probably a good thing because otherwise I would've despaired at the lack of general knowledge around me.
I went to bed and read some of my Terry Pratchett instead.
My brain is fried
Early on Thursday morning, I dashed out the last few words onto my NaNoWriMo project. Oh yeah... NaNo. I haven't mentioned that for a while. Not since I spent all week on Chiloe writing ALL THE WORDS. As it is, I ended the month with 117, 381 words, which is a new record for me. On the downside, it completed frazzled my brain, so it's probably a good thing that I planned to spend the day sitting back and letting someone else do the thinking.
The minibus came by just after 7am and then we were off on our way to Bruny Island, another place I'd never got round to visiting when I lived in Tassie. First stop, Kettering to hop on the short ferry ride over the D'Entrecasteaux Channel.
Then swiftly on to a honey farm for delicious sweet things.
And onwards to Cape Bruny and its convict built lighthouse. Gorgeous views. The next land south of this point is Antarctica. That might explain the somewhat chilly breeze.
The lizards didn't seem to be too bothered though.
From there we headed across South Bruny to a berry farm for lunch. I'd brought mine with me but that didn't stop me from indulging in a delicious slice of baked berry cheesecake. There is no before shot...
Lovely little beach just across the road, with a lovely view over Adventure Bay. Stupid selfie time, I decided.
At this point, we took a break from eating delicious things and instead went in search of the famous Bruny Island white wallabies. These guys aren't actually albino - they're just an unusual colour morph. And we did find one, hiding in someone's garden. Bad photo is bad.
Wallaby sighted, we headed back on the food trail. Next stop, cheese, my favouritest food in the world and something I've been missing since I left the UK. The Bruny Island Cheese Co more than made up for it. Delicious strong cheeses that actually taste of something, plus a delicious quince jelly and fresh bread.
Om nom nom. My delight was somewhat lessened by the next stop at the Get Shucked oyster farm. I've never had an oyster before. I like mussels. I was hoping it would be similar.
Nope. Maybe if they were cooked, they'd be fine, but raw oysters are not something I want to try again in a hurry. Yuck.
Stuffed full of delicious (and not-so-delicious) food, we headed back to Hobart, where I spent a delightful evening discussing Terry Pratchett with a French chap at the hostel. I even managed to part myself from the Pratchett book I'd picked up in Canada months back in exchange for a different one from Fabien. I'm not letting go of my other Pratchett in a hurry - a friend gave me it as a leaving present when I first came to Tasmania 6 years ago and it's somehow survived 6 months on the road with me. A bit battered, but otherwise doing well.
Death to snoring
On my final day in Hobart I returned to the Tasmanian Museum to check out the galleries which had been closed earlier in the week. They've changed a bit since I lived there. Bit of updating been going on.
Still full of interesting little bits and bobs. And the Antarctic gallery hasn't changed a bit, which meant I spent far too long trying to melt my handprint into the ice block. Like a child.
In the afternoon, I hopped onto a bus up to Launceston, Tasmania's second city. It scarcely qualifies as a city, but since there's only half a million folks in Tassie, I suppose it's relative.
Tramping the half mile from the bus station to my hostel, I had to chase my hat across the road. That was as exciting as my day got until about 10pm at which point... well...
It started off with people turning the lights on and off with no regard for the folks trying to sleep. And then someone started snoring. Not just the little bouts that most people have when they snore. Constant snoring. I kept expecting the guy to wake himself up with it, but no.
And then someone else started. Good god. And he too wasn't stopping.
I needed to get up at 6am to go on my daytrip. I was not impressed. To the point that I very nearly got out of bed and shook them both awake just so I could get some sleep.
I really wish I had, because in the event I was too much of a wuss and spent the rest of the night with earplugs in and my head buried under the pillow. Ugh.
There goes week 1 in Tasmania. Week 2 holds much promise, with trips planned to Wineglass Bay and Cradle Mountain before I head over to the West Coast for the first time. Admittedly, the promise of the West Coast is rain, but I'm a Brit. I can handle that.
Maybe I'll get to see a snake...
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