Australia: Am dram, gardens and hiking

I am the world's worst at keeping this thing up to date. Has it really been two months since my last push for updates? Damn.

 So, in the last post I'd overdosed on boat trips and tried my best not to squeal on having a penguin nearly run over my foot. The following week in Tasmania pushed my new-found ability to not plan ahead to the limit...

SQUAWK!

My last full day in lovely, quiet Strahan was wet. Same old, same old. In between the rain showers I first ran to the shop for groceries and then to Banjos because everything is better with pie.

Having wasted pretty much all day dossing about (why on earth didn't I sort the blog out then, past me?), I toddled on down to the tiny outdoor theatre on the waterfront to see Australia's longest running play, The Ship That Never Was. If you've read the last post, you'll know I visited Sarah Island, site of a notorious penal settlement. The play is based on events that took place around the time Sarah Island was being shut down and its convicts moved to the new site at Port Arthur.

So, I toddled in, wrapped myself in the complimentary blanket and hung on to the tiny hot water bottle the guys were handing out, it being a bit cool and damp, despite the cover over the seating.

And so the play began. A two man show, this time played by Chris, the guide from Sarah Island and the friendly chap I'd met in the post office a couple of days before. It soon became apparent that audience participation was very much expected and indeed essential. So I ended up being the parrot.

Yeah...

That was OK while it was just a hand puppet and all I had to do was squawk at appropriate moments (and I definitely didn't sound at all like a chicken... or a crow...) but towards the end of the play I had to don this.

And "fly" out of the theatre to look for land... Which would have been fine if there hadn't been a horde of smartly dressed people walking past at that moment to a function on one of the boats. Oh dear.

That said, it was bloody good fun and educational to boot. The set was pretty awesome as well.

With my culture fix achieved, I toddled back to the hostel and tried to sort out what I was doing next. I only had one more night left in Strahan and I had no real plan. I had thought I'd go down to the Huon Valley, south of Hobart, since it's an area I've never visited. Unfortunately, I couldn't find anywhere to stay that was in my price range.

Hmm... what to do, what to do? And then the internet threw the most enormous hissy fit, refused to connect to anything and basically screwed me over. It took me nearly an hour to get it to behave long enough to get a night booked in Hobart for the following evening.

All right, I figured. I'll go to Hobart, stay the night and work out what I'm doing afterwards.

What happened to me being the queen of planning?

ECHIDNA!

After a morning spent dossing at the hostel (during which the internet continued to play silly buggers), I hopped back on the bus, once again driven by friendly Terence. We wound our way back to Queenstown, picked up an entire 2 people and motored onwards to Lake St Clair, in the heart of the island.

And on the way I saw more echidna. One of which was ambling across the road in that way only echidna have, oblivious to the minibus speeding towards it. Terence stopped in time, fortunately, just as I start with the "run, little echidna, run!" I think that brings my echidna total to six. Not bad for 2 weeks.

Arriving at Lake St Clair, we had a short break during which I wandered down to the lake edge and grabbed a few photos just to prove I'd been there.

Then I bid farewell to Terence and the tiny bus and hopped on a coach to take me back to Hobart.

Back in Hobart, I checked the bus timetables I had for the east coast and found that I could get up to the Freycinet Peninsula. On Wednesday. So I booked a couple more nights in Hobart and settled down, satisfied that I had at least tried to be spontaneous...

Worldbuilding is the best bit

With two days now to kill in Hobart, I decided to revisit the beautiful Botanic Gardens. Hobart's gardens are some of the oldest in Australia and the collection is amazing. First though, I got talking to one of the volunteers and it turned out that he also writes fantasy and we had a gloriously geeky chat about worldbuilding. As you do.

The gardens, as expected, did turn out to be pretty good for writing inspiration, but they're also fascinating from a scientific perspective. There's this gorgeous fernery, which I want but would never be able to look after.

Some gorgeous flowers, none of which I can remember the names of, although I think my macro photography is improving.

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The gardens are also home to the only collection of Sub-antarctic plants in the world (as far as I can see...). Most awesome. These guys cling on in places like Macquarie Island where they're battered by wind and rain, salt and freezing temperatures. Tough little buggers.

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Having got my fill of botany, I wandered back into the city via the site of the Beaumaris Zoo, home to the last captive (and possibly last altogether) thylacine, Tasmania's marsupial wolf. It says something about old zoos when you consider that in this small area there were leopards and polar bears as well as a whole host of other critters. That's a lot of animals crammed into not much space.

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And then I got attacked by the wind which stole my hat. That was great fun, chasing my hat down the road while also trying to keep my otherwise lovely sun dress from flashing my knickers at people...

What's with the British telly?

I spent my last day in Hobart reading. And booking my airport shuttle for next week. And reading some more. And finally being most bemused that Nigella Lawson was on the telly. It seems like, aside from the news, the only programmes that ever seem to be on are from the UK. Oh, or those reality things about traffic cops and border security...

Disconnect

Wednesday started early because I had to lug all of my bags down to the bus stop. It also started early because I realised late on Tuesday night that I hadn't actually booked my connecting bus. So at 7 in the morning I'm frantically sending emails to the local bus company and hoping that, even if I can't reply, they'll get the message and come and get me.

As a result, I spent the entire 2 hour plus trip from Hobart up to the Coles Bay turn off freaking out that I'd be stranded there with no way to get to Coles Bay itself. I started taking note of where houses were in case I had to walk somewhere to get help. Yeah, that was just... glorious fun.

As it turned out, I needn't have worried, because the minibus was waiting for me at the turn off and all was fine. Since it's a local service that also deals with freight, we had to stop to make a few deliveries on the way, which was a novel experience and reminded me of that time I had to take the "post bus" when I went camping in the Yorkshire Dales with friends from school.

Safely in the tiny town of Coles Bay, I checked in and wandered down to the bakery for a much needed cuppa. And a Lamington, because I'm told they're a very Australian thing and also, CAKE.

After that delicious snack, I wandered into the town centre, which was exceptionally windy.

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And also very small. Seriously, Coles Bay is lovely, but it's a village more than a town. It has, as far as I could tell, exactly one shop, plus a cafe. Sweet though.

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In the evening, I even managed to be a bit social. This might be because there was no WiFi, or I might just be beginning to enjoy talking to random strangers.

Well, that was a stupid thing to do...

On the Thursday morning, having purposefully dumped myself in a place where there was nothing to do but walk, I went walking. First stop, the Visitor Centre to grab a Parks Pass and a Eucaflip. I might see if I can get the Eucaflip framed when I get back to the UK. It's an ID guide for Tasmanian eucalypts, but I like it even more because it was co-created by one of my lecturers from UTas.

Anyways, after confusing the parks lady with the revelation that I wasn't driving into the park and therefore needed the cheaper pass, I toddled off along the beach and then the road to Honeymoon Bay.

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Yes, I am aware that I only visited Honeymoon Bay a week or so ago, but it's such a gorgeous spot and I wanted a nice easy walk to start off with. I scrambled about on the rocks for a while, embracing my inner child and then settled down to enjoy the view.

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A couple of hours of doodling and writing later, I tramped back to the Visitor Centre to use the free WiFi, at which point I realised that my legs were looking a bit pink and promptly remembered that I hadn't reapplied my sunscreen. Ah.

This would explain why my legs were so very ouchy when I got in the shower at the hostel. Jeez. I don't think I've ever sunburnt my legs before and I don't intend to do it again. OUCH.

I made up for this stupidity by being super social in the evening and going to the pub with a couple of folks from the hostel. Their cider selection was all right, but I've had better. Still, at least Australia has cider.

Wallaby near miss

The following morning my legs were still very ouchy, so I did the sensible thing and put my actual walking trousers on to keep them out of the sun. Sensible because I intended to tackle Wineglass Bay and the thought of more sunburnt was not nice.

Sophie who came to the pub very kindly dropped me off at the Wineglass Bay carpark and so I set off. First, back off up to the lookout. My legs can't have been that bad, because I managed it in about 30 mins and so was off to a good start.

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Step two, down the other side of the pass to the bay itself. Knowing what Tassie's woodlands are like, I coated myself in DEET to keep off the winged demons and set off down the steep track. Not far from the bottom I nearly came acropper, stumbling over a rock and scuffing my palms. More ouch to add to the list.

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The trek down wasn't too hard. My occasionally dodgy knee even managed not to crunch. Down at the bottom, I got comfortable on the beach and had brunch - delicious sweet potato with sweet chili sauce. Yum. It also gave me chance to clean my scuffed palm which led to more ouch when I, unthinkingly, used hand sanitised to get the bits of sweet potato off my fingers. Fuck, that hurt.

With stingy hand to add to the ouch list, I headed back to the main track. I had intended to just head back over the pass and so back to the hostel. But I was feeling sort of energetic and when the sign informed me that the Hazards Circuit would only take me up to 5 hours and was only 11km long, I figured what the hell? Let's give it a go. I had plenty of water, my lunch was still in my bag and I was slathered in sunscreen.

So I toddled off across the narrow isthmus that connects the two parts of the Freycinet Peninsula, emerging half an hour later on Hazards Beach. Tramped down there and spotted a wallaby.

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Well, I say spotted. The thing nearly jumped on my head. See the ledge it's sitting on? A bit further back along the beach, that's about head height to me. So when it leaped out of the bushes, I could have sworn it was going to land on me. As it was, I think the wallaby was just as surprised as me. Luckily for me, it decided to sit quietly on the ledge long enough for me to get some fairly decent photos.

Anyways, wallaby incident done with, I set off again around the circuit, occasionally giving myself minor heart attacks by convincing myself there was a snake on the path. Seriously, some of those tree roots were remarkably snake-like until I got nearly on top of them. Ugh.

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The Hazards Circuit isn't quite as busy as the Wineglass Bay track, so I had the place nearly to myself for the most part, which was amazing. It's one of the things I love about Tassie - that sense that you're the only one there.

Such illusion was vanquished when I arrived back in the carpark and started trekking back along the road towards Coles Bay. I was still feeling remarkably energetic, so the several kilometre hike to the hostel didn't seem like a problem.

Still, when an Aussie couple pulled up next to me and offered me a lift, I didn't say no.

Apparently I'm either getting stupid or more confident, because I never would have got in a random car before. They kindly dropped me off at the Visitor Centre where I once again made use of the WiFi and also acquired a new spork since my old one is missing most of its tines - not great when you're trying to skewer sweet potato out of your lunch box.

Since I'd been really healthy and done my nice long walk, I splashed out on a bottle of cider from the tiny shop. Om nom nom. Willie Smith's is better than the 5 Seeds I had in the pub the night before. Good stuff.

Well, my time in gorgeous Tasmania is coming to an end. Two more days on the Freycinet Peninsula and then back to Hobart to catch my flight back to Sydney and Christmas with relatives. That's going to be good, right? I'm going to miss Tassie though.

Still, food and accommodation over Christmas...

Canada: Museums galore!

Bonjour! Although, really, I should be back to saying hello now, since I'm back in anglophone Canada. To be precise, I'm in Ottawa, Ontario, capital of the country. It is disgustingly gloriously warm and sunny. I also have no more problems with language barriers. Hurrah. Here's what I've been up to since last week.

I'm English! I'm used to it!

In stark contrast to the current weather here in Ottawa, my time in Montreal began with rain. Lots of rain. Rain which just didn't stop. For about 24 hours. It drizzled a bit in the morning and I thought, this is fine. It's just drizzle. I'll go to a museum for a bit until it dries up.

So I went to the Chateau Ramezay, which is one of the oldest surviving buildings in the city. Very interesting. They have the first registered car in Quebec, with the helpful reg number Q1. See - that's how you know it's the first.

I also overheard an excellent conversation between an English couple in which one had completely messed up his French. Or rather, misunderstood something relatively obvious. OK, so there's a little display about medicine in part of the museum and the game is to try to match the cure to the illness. One of the illnesses was epilepsy, another malady was menstrual cramps. Yeah.

The English chap had clearly muddled the two up and thought he was being super clever in telling his girlfriend that, to his amusement, a French term for period was "grand mal". "Haha," he says, "they call it the big bad." Technically, yes, I suppose that is what grand mal means. Unfortunately for him, grand mal is also a type of seizure. It had nothing to do with the woman on her period. I wondered if I should tell him, but he clearly thought he was being super smart and I was sort of enjoying smirking at his misunderstanding.

Random aside aside, the museum was great. Unfortunately, by the time I emerged from it, the rain hadn't stopped. In fact, it had got heavier. Fine, I thought. I'm English. I can deal with a bit of rain. So off I went, striding out into the downpour. This isn't so bad, I thought, just a bit more drizzle.

I wasn't in such a good mood by the time I made it to Pointe-a-Calliere. I was dripping. Actually dripping, to the point that there was a small puddle on the floor around my feet by the time I paid for my ticket.

Fortunately for me, Pointe-a-Calliere is a pretty big place. It's the museum of archaeology and history in Montreal and includes some exposed archaeology in the basement. Said exposed areas include the earliest cemetary in the city, dating back to the time of the first settlement there.

The museum also currently has an excellent exhibition of equestrian related things, courtesy of Hermes in Paris. Yes, that's Hermes who make the bags, but they began (and continue) as a saddler and as such have a huge collection of horsey things. Very cool.

And then, finally, it stopped raining. I had mostly dried off by then and I figured, instead of risking staying out and getting soaked again, I'd head back to the hostel. Woo. I live such a thrilling life.

What on earth is he doing to that goat?!

My second day in Montreal was dry, much to my relief. I spent a large part of it at the Musee des Beaux-Arts, at the suggestion of Renee who I met a couple of weeks back in Digby. They have the most amazing Pompeii exhibition on at the moment. Plenty of interesting bits, including this egg pan.

Yep, the Romans got there first. This rude statue, which was in a little room with a lot of other equally (and some even more) rude things.

Yeah, that was probably at the less rude end. There was a big statue in the middle of the room of Pan copulating with a goat. Yup. Romans.

Anyhoo, the exhibition also has some of the body casts. Pompeii has been on my bucket list for a while, but I figure seeing these guys will tide me over for now.

Although, it's probably not great that my first thought on seeing them was "holy crap, Weeping Angels!"

The museum also has a great section dedicated to African and Islamic art. They're not huge collections, but there were some beautiful pieces. Like this bowl from... Iran? I think?

I love the colours. And in the African section, this odd statue made by the Dogon people of Mali.

I see trees of green. Red roses too...

The next day was also beautifully sunny. I had initially planned on walking up Mont Royal and taking in the views of the city, but... I had a 3 day pass for the Metro and I figured I might as well make use of it. So instead I headed up to the Botanical Gardens.

The Gardens are right next to the 1976 Olympic Stadium, but I wasn't really interested in that. I figured I'd spend a few hours roaming the gardens and then head back to the city for some more exploration.

I ended up spending all day there. The gardens are huge and there was so much to see. First stop was the Insectarium which, yes, is like a miniature zoo for insects and other creepy crawlies. Spot the stick.

Then I had a wander through the trees and found a beautiful little clearing with some nice warm rocks to sit on. I spent a while enjoying the quiet and while I was there, this little guy joined me.

He seemed to be quite content to warm himself in the sun while I farted about with the camera trying to get something approaching a decent shot. Unfortunately, as I got up to leave, a little bird swooped on him. I think I saw him fluttering away and the bird took up a perch nearby, apparently not eating anything. I hope.

I was evidently in the mood for a lazy day, because a few minutes walk further through the gardens, I found a pond and spent another 20 minutes or so soaking up the sun before my knees felt like they were burning through my trousers and I moved.

After that, I wandered the arboretum and found some beautiful trees, like this pine of some sort which looks just like those Christmas trees with the fake snow.

On the other side of the garden, I found the tiniest little poison garden. A friend gifted me a book about poisonous plants a few years ago, so I thought this was fascinating. Fortunately, I am sane enough to know not to touch and moved on to the most amazing veggie garden. I want a garden like this.

Made me miss my veggie patch.

Only the greenhouses left after that. Highlight was probably these beautiful penjing trees. Penjing is the Chinese form of bonsai and actually predates that Japanese art.

Pretty good day all round. Plus, no sunburn courtesy of slathering myself in factor 30. I'm getting good at this.

Tourist Central

My final day in Montreal began with a trip to Notre Dame Basilica. I might not be religious, but I find churches fascinating and this one... wow. We don't really have churches this brightly decorated in the UK (y'know, what with it being mostly Anglican etc).

I spent a good hour or so in there, mostly just sitting and watching other people. It was very good for people watching.

After the relatively tranquility of the church, I braved Rue St Paul, otherwise known as Tourist Central (at least to me...). Quaint little cobbled streets, crammed with cafes and tat souvenir shops.

Not entirely to my liking. So I headed out to the Old Port complex, which also had little to keep me interested, but at least there were green spaces. And the river, of course.

Then I managed to be very organised and spent the evening booking accommodation and transport for the next few legs of my trip. This means I've managed to get a nice little AirBnB room booked in the small city of Kingston, because said city does not appear to have a single hostel. This is great because I now get to have a room to myself, even if it is only for a couple of nights.

I'm English. I don't do warm.

The next morning it was time to get back on a bus and head to Ottawa, capital of Canada (as I'm pretty sure I mentioned above...). My bus days seem to be becoming somewhat regular and also seem to leave me lethargic once I get to my new destination, which means I did nothing once I got to Ottawa.

This may have been at least partly due to the heat. I'd thought it was warm in Montreal. On stepping off the bus in Ottawa it was like stepping into a sauna.  Urgh. This was not helped by the relatively short walk to the bus stop to get to my hostel. The bus driver fulfilled the stereotype of "friendly Canadian" and helpfully told me a) when to get off the bus and b) directions to the road the hostel was on from the bus stop. Lovely chap.

Unfortunately, as soon as I stepped off the bus in downtown Ottawa, the heavens opened. And I mean, opened. It was a 5 minute walk at most to the hostel and by the time I got there I was dripping worse than the incident in Montreal. Water had got into one of my bags, so my favourite book (the only one I brought with me) now has slightly squiffy pages.

Land of Dinosaurs and Obnoxious Children

On the plus side, I'm lucking out with hostels so far and aside from not providing breakfast, this one is great. Yesterday, it being so very warm still and not wanting to get drenched again, I spent a large part of the day in the Canadian Museum of Nature. I am a massive science geek. This is well established. Surrounded by dinosaurs, stuffed critters and assorted madness, it should have been bliss.

And it was, save for the hordes of screaming children. I'm sure every single holiday club in the city must have brought their kids to that museum yesterday. Fine, when they're actually engaging with the exhibits. Not when they're just running around getting under my feet and generally being obnoxious.

I know. I'm being grumpy and unreasonable, but I like to enjoy my museums with a bit more peace. I found said peace in the Earth Gallery because small children have no interest (it seems) in rocks. I, on the other hand, do. Especially when they look like this.

Or this.

Or when they glow in the dark like this glorious lump.

Yup. Geekery ahoy! I also discovered, to my glee, that the special exhibition on the top floor was nearly deserted. Possibly because it was an extra $10 to get in, but I can deal with that when there are interesting dinosaurs galore and I have the place nearly to myself. This one had a mouth that looks like a vacuum cleaner. Don't ask why. Apparently it might have eaten low growing things. I'd say grass, but grass came after the dinos.

And this is Giganotosaurus, T rex's bigger, badder South American distant cousin. Oh, and me, because I'm told there are not enough photos of me being included in these things.

Having complained about the children on the lower floors, I made the most of them not being on this one and had great fun collecting all the stamps for the kids' "Dino Challenge" activity. Because I am cool like that and have no shame when it comes to museum activities even when security are giving me funny looks as I gleefully stamp my card yet again...

Ahem. Moving on.

It still being dry once I'd eaten, I decided to make the most of the National Gallery's late (and free) opening on Thursday evenings. This meant I got about an hour and a half browsing the galleries, which was great, plus it was a lot quieter than the museum earlier in the day. Some really gorgeous pieces, including a few Canalettos.

I love Canaletto. I don't really know why. There's just something about the way his work looks so... real, I suppose. I spotted that one from the other end of the gallery, peeping through the little archway. Then, to keep my sister happy, I went in search of some Pre-Raphaelites. I nearly walked past this one, before something in my brain went "I've seen that redhead before."

It's a Rossetti, who seems to have just painted the some redhead over and over again. I'm not sure which of his muses this one is supposed to be. My sister might be able to tell you. I think I was more amused that an artist named Dante had painted a scene from Dante's Divine Comedy.

[Google tells me the model is Jane Morris, by the way]

And then I found this bust of Nietzsche, which made me laugh purely for the ridiculously huge mustache.

Finally, outside the Gallery is this sculpture of a giant spider. I remember this from the last time I visited Ottawa nearly a decade ago. Still sort of creepy now.

I had considered walking back up to Parliament Hill for the light show, but the heavens opened once again and we got hit by an insane lightning storm. I tried and failed to take any photos of this. Well done me.

Did he just faint?

I did, however, make it to Parliament Hill this morning, where I got to watch the Changing of the Guard ceremony. Of course, this is something that happens in the UK as well, but hey, I'm a tourist and it's fun to watch.

I'm not sure it was as fun for the guards themselves in those heavy uniforms and ridiculous hats. Especially the young lad who had been second from left before I took this photo.

You might be able to see there's a gap in the front rank there. That's because the poor guy second from left fainted during the inspection. I saw him fumble with his rifle a minute before and then he just pitched face forward onto the grass. Poor bugger.

Anyway, having fulfilled my duty as a tourist and an English one at that to go and watch some weird English tradition being continued in Canada, I headed across the river and back into Quebec to visit the Canadian Museum of History. Another place I visited on my first trip here, although it was called the Museum of Civilisation then.

It's still amazing. This is the Grand Hall, which is pretty much the first place you go once you get in.

Totem poles galore. The museum presents a history of Aboriginal Canada, which stretches back thousands of years. I was intrigued to find that some of the West Coast cultures made use of nephrite jade tools, a similar material to the pounamu used by the Maori in New Zealand.

Oh, and I had lunch overlooking the river, just before it chucked it down with rain again.

Glad I spent most of the day inside again! Having piled my brain full of random facts about Aboriginal Canada, I moved on to the special exhibitions. Three of these on at the moment. The first is about carriages. I'm pretty sure I've seen Sherlock Holmes using one of these.

That is of course, the best Holmes, Jeremy Brett. Moving on. The second is about the gold rush in British Columbia in the mid 1800s. Some beautiful artefacts from other gold-mining areas, including this gorgeous, well made necklace of cast frogs from central America.

The detail on it is amazing. According to the scales on the way out, I would be worth over $2,000,000 if I was made of gold. Ah well.

And finally, an exhibition about Napoleon and his relationship with Paris. Some interesting drawings, none of which came out very well in my photos.

I resisted the urge to go in the Children's Museum, partly because it was pretty much only kids in there and apparently I do have some shame and partly because it was only about an hour until closing and I didn't fancy rushing it.

Well, I think that's everything up to date now. I have a couple more days in Ottawa and then I'm heading to Toronto via Kingston.

Someone point me in the direction of interesting Torontonian things.