I am finally on the island of Tasmania!
- The airport at Hobart is small enough that you just walk out of the plane, down some stairs, and across the tarmac. Living in the frigid North, this is still an exotic thing to me. I’ve only climbed in and out of a plane like that a few times in my life.
- Hobart airport also has only two baggage carousels. It’s also been a very long time since I’ve been in a two-carousel airport.
- While waiting for my baggage, I ran into an Australian man who was waiting for someone to arrive on another flight. He’d asked me if he was in the right place and I said I had no earthly clue; from there, we just started talking. Turns out, we’d both done research in the Arctic Circle in our earlier years. We’d also both been to Antarctica. I don’t know how I run into people like this guy randomly, but it seems to happen a lot. Do we find each other by pheromones? (Make a note: possible research opportunity.)
- After I claimed my luggage, I hopped on a shuttle to the rental car place. Yes, I’m renting a car. I’m renting a car in a place where people drive on the wrong side of the road. The steering wheel is on the wrong side of the car. The turn signal is on the wrong side of the wheel. But the gas pedal and brake are in the right spots, so I guess that’s okay.
- I was still in the rental car garage getting familiar with the car when I hooked my iPhone into the navigation system. Instantly, my phone decided to go on shuffle through my music collection and blast it out of the sound system, right into the ears of everyone else waiting in the garage and at the rental desk. What did my phone select for this? “Her Vagina” by the Four Skins.
- I very very very very very cautiously drove my car from the airport into Hobart, a trip of maybe 11 miles. Thankfully, the road started as a normal freeway and then eased me into downtown Hobart, meaning I got a few minutes to get into the swing of driving on the left. It’s truly incredible how plastic the human brain can be: the transition to driving on the left wasn’t has terrifying as I thought it might be. I did circle several city blocks when I missed turns and such, but I didn’t damage the car and I eventually found my hotel.
- I did accidentally turn the windshield wipers on a lot.
- I didn’t get to see much of Hobart on my first outing, but I did get a general sense of the town. It’s an old port town on a bay in southern Tasmania. The trees are lush and green, though the grass is dormant for the summer. A steep mount rises behind the town, framing it against the bay. It’s not a big city (about 250,000 people), but it’s big enough to have distinct neighborhoods, a mix of architecture, a rush hour, and an international airport. I won’t be able to explore in earnest until later this week, but I look forward to Hobart adventures.
- The hotel in the Salamanca market area of Hobart is a lovely little place. Nothing really fancy, but my room has a glimpse of the bay, the room has a fridge and a microwave, and the hotel gave me a free bottle of wine. (!)
- Once in my room after endless hours of trans-Pacific flights, I flung my clothes away as if they were spring-loaded and immediately hopped in the shower. The travel-funk left my skin after a battery of bar soap and scrubbing by hotel towels. Then I scrubbed the fur off my teeth with my toothbrush. Once I felt sufficiently hygienic, I flopped down on the bed for a couple hours. I didn’t sleep, but I did require a couple quiet hours where I wasn’t in an airport or squeezed in a metal tube with hundreds of people.
- Around 8pm, I decided I needed food that didn’t come from an airplane galley. Luckily, my little roost in Salamanca is right around the corner from a whole strip of restaurants and galleries. (There’s a whole art market down the street.) Within a quarter block, I found at least five three-dollar-sign restaurants. It’s Monday night, so the first one I checked was already closing, but they pointed me to another place across the way that they liked.
- Thus, I wound up at a place called Rockwall, with dark wood paneling and a nice array of wine. I got a glass of nice Tasmanian cabernet, butternut squash & sage risotto, and a Tasmanian wattleseed panna cotta. Every morsel was absolutely delicious, and Elton John came on the radio twice. I mused that this was my last meal of my first half-century, and I further mused that almost exactly three years ago, I saw Elton John’s last concert at Madison Square Garden. Serendipity.
- I was amused at the restaurant that not only are thick Australian accents hard for me to decipher, but also American accents seem to be similarly hard to decipher by Australians. There was a lot of repeating of words between everyone involved.
- Finally, after dinner, I had a short walk along the bay, across the street from the line of restaurants. After 9pm, the neighborhood is quiet, the ocean is calm, and even the seagulls lay off for the night. The nighttime temperature is perfect. I keep hearing from the locals that this week will have beautiful weather, so again I have lucked out on my timing.
- Now I’m back in the hotel room, rearranging my luggage, writing my notes, and planning for tomorrow. I have already finished both books I brought along (Whose Body? by Dorothy L. Sayers, and Lagardere aka Le Bossu aka The Hunchback by Paul Feval pere), I’ve caught a lot of Pokemon in Pokemon Go, and I’ve plugged in all my electronics. We’re off to a good start.
