So Long Hobart, It Has Been Great

Check out time is 10:00 am. This seems to be fairly standard practice here, but it seems way too early to me. We had everything ready, went for breakfast and checked out. The shuttle was arranged to take us to the airport at 2:40 for our 4:15 flight to Adelaide. We had time to kill. These were the best four nights sleep I have had in years. The coffee shop in Salamanca Square had free WiFi Internet with a purchase. This was the first time I had an opportunity to download mail so it took some time sorting through the spam and the good stuff. We were there for close to an hour, before Ron started getting antsy, so I knew I could not take the time to upload blog entries then. The day was gusty, really windy, making it feel colder than it was since the sun was trying to penetrate the clouds. We had not explored the wharf, so we did that, but the wind was blowing the water off of the bay making it feel like a cold rain. There is much history down at the docks if one is interested in Australian history, but we gave it a quick going over. We walked into the downtown area, where the wind was still whipping around. People walking around in shorts and short sleeve shirts were huddling themselves against the gusts of cold air, but looking accepting as this is a fact of life for them. It seemed like we were never going to get close to the time for the shuttle, so we headed back to the 24 Hour Salamanca Bakery to share a sandwich for lunch. Yet, we still had over an hour to kill. After picking up our things at the hotel, we went to the meeting point and waited. The shuttle was late, so Ron ventured back to the hotel to have them call again. As soon as he disappeared from sight, the shuttle showed and I had to run to get him. Hobart is by no means a large city, so the ride to the airport was not a long one. The whole of Tasmania has 500,000 inhabitants on the island. There was something healing about Hobart and Tasmania. I never used my sinus medication nor did I ever have to use a tissue. I felt better than I have in years, breathing like a teenager again. The dark circles under my eyes disappeared completely, and I am actually feeling good about the way I look facially, at least. With all of the eating out and the coffee stops, my body doesn't look as good as my face. At the moment, if I was floured down, I could be a fill-in for the Pillsbury Dough Boy. Much of it is water weight, since I am accustomed to drinking a couple of liters of water a day. It is impossible to do on a vacation when you wind up spending half of the day looking for a men's room. Tasmania is really a beautiful state and well worth the trip. Checking in to Virgin Blue, we found our plane was going to be fifteen minutes late. This after e-mailing me that our flight was moved up by five minutes. The plane was unusual as it only had a 2-2 configuration, but very long. The safety card showed it as being an E190. I had never flown on one before. The flight was less than two hours and Adelaide has a half hour time difference, so we gained one half hour. The shuttle was the best way of getting into the city; for $5.00 each it is a bargain. We were dropped off right around the corner from our hostel. This is the same hostel we stayed at when we first started the trip and we are just one room away from our previous room. The hostel room for both of us is $88.00 a night, a bit pricey for a hostel, but this one is worth it. After dumping our things, we went to find food. We bought some things at the Chinese supermarket since it was the only one open. We have breakfast covered anyway. Then we went to the Hog's Breathe Café for dinner. Funny, we did not do much today, but we are both worn out. There is something about the stressors of getting to and from the airport and the poor circulation of air on planes that knocks you out. Ron is already talking about what tour he wants to take while here.

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Where the Devil Are Those Tasmanians?

Okay, I am obsessed with breakfast, it is the most important meal of the day isn't it? Today, we had three gloriously large, perfectly round and the exact thickness I prefer, pancakes served hot with whipped cream and maple syrup. Can you say YUM? This is a treat, not something they have in Hungary. By 9:00, we were sitting outside waiting for our tour shuttle, it was cooler today than yesterday, but felt like it would get hotter during the day. By 9:25 our shuttle had not shown up yet, so I ran up to the room for my phone and jacket as an insurance policy. As I walked out the door, Ron was walking to the shuttle. We were so lucky. Our tour guide/driver is also the President, CEO, CFO, and Managing Director of the the company Devilmania Tours. All of this and she reminds me of Bette Midler to boot. Meet Charlene who had Britney riding shotgun. Britney is Charlene's 6th grade daughter off on vacation. We were a group of two, R to the second power or R-squared, us and only us. Being a small group, we had some leeway, like when Charlene asked if we minded if she stopped at the chemist to pick up a prescription. Although we expected some commentary as we drove, it was more like chit-chat, which was fine with me. Charlene took us to a fruit stand to try Tasmanian cherries and apricots. I have to say, these are the best apricots I have ever tasted; we only bought four, but we are sorry we did not buy more now. The cherries were sweet and meaty, but just as good as California or even Hungarian cherries. Charlene drove us to the Tasman Arch and the Devils Kitchen, both are natural rock formations formed by the waves continual erosion of the rock. Both areas were incredibly beautiful, but the colors of the waters defy the vocabulary of the English language. There are no words to identify the shades of blues and greens we viewed. Ron wanted to stop off at the Tasmanian devil reserve, where they are breeding them. As ugly as the little creatures are, they are dying of a rare mouth cancer that is only transmitted through other devils. The object of the reserve is to preserve devils that are not infected, giving them a place to breed so they don't go extinct. They are ugly little creatures and look especially creepy when they are snarling. Within the park are other interesting creatures, including a large number of kangaroos and wallabies. They are so nonchalant about people it is easy to walk up to them to take photographs. We found one with a joey leg hanging out of the pouch. We were hoping more would appear to the paparazzi, but no deal. These celebrities can be so evasive. Our major stop was Port Arthur, the penal colony was established in 1830 as a timber camp. It was after 1833 that it became a “punishment station” for repeat offenders from all of the Australian colonies. Based on discipline and punishment, religious and moral instruction, classification and separation, training and education, the English prison reformer Jeremy Bentham set the rules for his penitentiary. By today's standards, this places was sadistic in a number of ways; however, the signs and information posted at each building for self-guided touring really makes all attempts to dissuade the tourist from regarding any of the procedures here as anything, but necessary. Even reporters of the time who visited wrote disparaging remarks about the treatment of these prisoners who were supposed to be reformed through being forced to attend religious services amongst other things, but even then they had to stay five feet from the next prisoner, even when ball and chained. Each prisoner had to perform labor of some sort, repeaters had hard labor duties. There is a guided tour every hour, but we missed one and did not have time to wait for the next one to start. We were also supposed to take a harbor cruise for twenty minutes, but we had to meet Charlene at 3:30, so we basically only had time to go around to view the different buildings. Okay, I saw it. Another human abusing human setting that has become a major tourist attraction. When you first enter, you receive a playing card with some interesting little pictures on it. At the end, you can look up your card and see what prisoner you were and what your crimes were. I was a sixteen year old who was sent here for stealing a shirt. I was assigned to twelve years of hard labor. After I was released, I stole shoes and was again imprisoned. Hell, I was working on a full outfit. For the initial offense I was sent from England to Australia for reform. One woman was sent from England for stealing a handkerchief. Charlene was there to collect us at 3:30. The ride back was fairly quiet, so we fell asleep. She left us off downtown where we walked around the pedestrian mall, we had not discovered yet. At 5:30 on the dot, the stores closed, bang, bam, boom, all gone for the evening. As I was watching the news tonight, there was a special report on the news about Australian restaurants. There seem to be an unusual number of food poisoning problems. It seems this is the same issue in every country and every major city in any country could document the same problems. What I did find interesting was that of the top ten complaints about restaurants, number five was the high cost of eating out, another was wine that is quadrupled in price from the same wine available from a bottle shop. Another one that is common is hidden charges. Some of the lesser complaints were that there was not a pepper mill on the table or it took too look to get a bottle of water. With a short list of options for restaurants that are open after 6:00 pm, we made the easy choice of returning to the New Sydney Hotel for dinner. The Moo Brew pilsner beer is so very tasty. The spicy chicken burger was well worth the trek back here. Tomorrow is another tour with Charlene, but she told us she has a doctor's appointment and an appointment to have the van steam cleaned inside, so there may be a sub-driver. Our exciting life.

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Oh, What a Feeling in Hobart, Tasmania

Wow, our breakfast at this hotel is anything off of their menu. I had Eggs Florentine, while Ron had Eggs Benedict. What a treat that was. The trade-off is that the coffee is instant and not even a good instant. This prompted us to finish our breakfast and find a coffee shop for a better cup of java.

During our hunt for caffeine, we stopped at the Tourism Office. Small, but quick and efficient, we had all of the information we needed to makes some decisions on day tours. Hunting down options for exchanging money, we did not find any significant difference between the banks and the exchange office.

The balance of our day was spent wandering around Hobart looking at the different neighborhoods pointed out by the tour office as interesting places. This is a pleasant little city, very hilly, more so than Sydney. We found a number of little used bookstores and found a couple of good titles we have been hunting for, but the criteria is that it has to be a paperback and under eleven inches in size otherwise they are just too weighty.

When we returned, we had to get to the tour office before 5:00 to book our trips. We changed money, went back to the hotel to drop off some things, and then headed out again. We have been buying a couple of little gifts for a friend of ours in South Africa; she just released her sixth novel. She based it on our apartment from when she came to Budapest and is sending us a copy. We wanted to mail the gifts from here having more secure feelings than if we sent them from Budapest. The registered mail envelopes could not be removed from the post office, so we had to bring the things there to mail. That was out of the way and on the way. At the tourism office we booked two tours for tomorrow and the day after. Friday, we return to Adelaide for our finale before returning home again.

Walking wore us out, so the hotel called and said “Hey, don't you need a nap?” Who could refuse such consideration, so we went back for a beer and then a snooze. The bar was jammed inside and out with young people, mostly wearing black and all having dead bands or armbands of white and blue or white and red. I thought they were here for the cricket match, but when I asked the waiter, he said it was a funeral for a 20 year old.

Watching these young people made me wonder yet again and certainly not for the first time. When did it become acceptable for men to use hair pins, bobby pins, barrettes, and headbands? How does that transition from “god damned faggot” of my generation when I was their age to now it is de riguer or not even noticed. Along those lines, I noticed a number of men with pierced ears, both ears. A number had those hole stretchers in them that look like rims on a car's tire. It would be interesting to touch bases with them in twenty years or more to see if they had to have their ear lopes surgically cut off to remove the Brahma bull lopes left after years of stretching or do they still have them into their forties and fifties? While I am on body modifications, I have never seen so many tattoos as we have seen here in Australia. Not only men, but women too have tattoos on their arms, legs, tops of their feet, and where else that does not show in public, I don't even want to know about. It is not that I am against tattoos, I have one myself and know the pain involved, so how can they stand to have the multitudes of them they have?

Using our Frommer's, we hunted out a restaurant, but it no longer exists. We found a pub restaurant where we chose to take a chance. Great gamble. I had chicken schnitzel with guacamole and cheese melted over it. The chicken was all white meat: a half plate size portion, thick and moist throughout with lots of the green stuff hidden under a perfect layer of a white cheese. It came with a small salad, but I had already ordered spicy fries with it. One of our more memorable meals.

A walk home to relax and some television watching and it is called an evening.

Side note, Ron read in the local paper that the waters across from us are infested with jellyfish, so there is not swimming until further notice. There have been three shark attacks around the country within the last week. All three people survived, but had to beat the shark off. One man had ninety teeth wounds on his leg. Anyone for snorkeling? Not me.

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