Tickled about Tasmania
27.03.2008
I can still remember the smell of the air that seemed to be lightly scented with fresh laundry mixed with a hint of salty, ocean air. Smeared in the liquid sapphire sky, were clouds scattered randomly in the sky and had a virgin white appearance. According to some websites and other guidebooks, Tasmania claims to have the purest air in the world. For two weeks of my Christmas vacation, down under in Tassie, I enjoyed endless Australian comforts with my sister, brother-in-law, niece and nephew. A truly rejuvenating and refreshing experience in mind, body, heart and soul.
The jazz band played ‘White Christmas’ while I was eating my Nepalese chicken kebab at Café Deco in Hong Kong airport, eagerly awaiting my Hong Kong departure. I immediately felt on vacation as soon as I checked my bags in and went through security. While sitting and sipping on some bubbly brew waiting for my food, I did experience pangs of homesickness for my typical Cape Breton Christmas traditions. Snow, family members, friends, visiting and sitting around a kitchen table were slowly clouding my thoughts as the music played on. The band did a fantastic job of helping me to reach deep inside for a bit of holiday spirit by playing on of my favorite Christmas carols. But, the band also reminded me of my loneliness that I was experiencing my second time only away for the holidays. Really, I was dreaming of a white Christmas and I was alone waiting for a flight to go almost to the bottom of the world. I don’t think I could have gone any further from my home in Canada as I did this Christmas. The kebab was fantastic. Lucky for the plate, I decided not to eat that too. I was able to leave the design and plate on the table with my almost empty pint. I had fifteen minutes to make it to gate 18 so I downed my last sip, paid my bill and gathered my belongings. Making my way down to the departure gate, I was observing and watching everyone around like I always do walking through airports. Sitting, standing or sleeping, people hung around by their departure gate. Walking faster, I wondered where they are all going for their Christmas holiday. Airports always intoxicate me with an intense curiosity of where everyone is going and whom are they travelling with. Getting closer to my gate, I see that the destination by the gate number said Shanghai. What! Did I not read the boarding pass correctly? Sweating and almost running, I dash to the nearest departure board and Quantas flight 128 was now departing to gate 26. Just as I finished reading the board, I heard the announcement of the change of gate for QF 128. Off I jog in the opposite direction to make the 7:25pm boarding call. Finally, at 8:45 I was up in the air with belongs stowed and flipping through the in flight magazines.
Intolerable Cruelty was my first movie choice, followed by Ratatouille, a cute, cartoon comic about a mouse who could cook. If anyone knows anything about working or being part of a French kitchen, you too would find Ratatouille hilarious at 1:00am in the morning somewhere over the ocean. Tired and eager to see Paula, Kevin and the kids, I tried to sleep on the late flight, but only drifted in and out of a light sleep until landing at 10:30 am the next morning in Sydney, Australia. Finally, it was December 23 and I began navigating my way through the Aussie Airport in order to go through security. I stop and take a picture of the ‘Welcome to Sydney, Australia’ sign, but seconds later a security official approached me and told me that photos were not allowed. Impatient now I was beginning to get, I was finally able to break myself through the almost bottom-of –the-world-crowds. As I speed walk through the crowds with blond hair, beach style attitudes and summer-clad outfits, I knew that I was going to love Australia. On to my gate and on the plane again, I settle into a semi-comfortable state only for about two hours and a bit. I finally see water and the grounds of Tasmania as we begin our descent. Preparing to land, I feel like a kid again on Christmas morning anticipating the opening my first gift.
Immediately proceeding through the arrivals gate, I quickly x-ray the crowds of welcomers trying to find my sister and her family. Not spotting anyone familiar, I go to the baggage carrousel to collect my things. Still, I wait and see no one. Staring and gazing around again, I search for maps, guides and any local entertainment paper that would direct me the local scenes and flavors of Hobart. Finally, I see all that I have been waiting for. We all hug and embrace one another, smiling from ear to ear. On we all go to Kingston Beach, destination, my sister’s new house. Along the way, we buy some local raspberries from a very warm and friendly man then drive on to the grocery store near my sister’s place. Venturing into any new grocery store, there awaits an undiscovered adventure. Up and down the isles, I’m curious as to what brands dominate the shelves, what people in Tasmania like to buy and what ‘international’ flavours melt into the western selections. Trying to seek out familiarity in the grocery store, I discover something very unfamiliar…. shopping in bare feet, EWW! My sister goes on to fill me in that going about and around shops in bare feet is quite a normal phenomenon.
Cleaning, baking cookies for Santa and enjoying a Cascade draught (a local Taz brew)
provided the backdrop for Christmas celebrations. I began to smell a warm aroma of Christmas wafting in and out of the kitchen as I was busy helping my sister prepare for Christmas day. Time was getting late and there were presents that needed wrapping so Paula and I had fun playing Santa’s helpers on Christmas Eve. Morning and presents arrived for Mac and Emma. Sipping coffee, crunching on Santa’s leftover cookies, and the rustling of Christmas wrap were the dominant sounds late Christmas morning. Mac was mesmerized with his Leggo airport while Emma was multi-toy tasking with her new dollhouse and dollclothes. Early afternoon, company dropped by with a gift for Paula and Kevin. It was Lee and Jason, both from Campbell River, British Columbia who have been living in Tasmania for about three years; another great couple living the dream of working and being abroad. We immediately bond over travel stories that I unpacked from my back pocket. Thinking and feeling that it’s a small world, our stories of travel and adventure confirm that for all chatting. Later Christmas day, I step outside to harness some distilled air and the backdrop of the landscapes seduces my senses. Inhaling the sea’s breath, I am lured by the magnetic pull to live a kind of life in some countryside while being busied by bohemia at the same time. Standing out in the back yard, I love what I breathe, what I see and what I feel. Can life be any better? A few days later, heading to the beaches nearby with Stephanie and the kids, I recognize and make mental notes of the uncanny similarities Tasmania has to Nova Scotia. I love the gentleness and comfort of Tasmania’s magic; it has cast an unbreakable spell on my city soul.
It’s Sunday and market day in Hobart. The sunshine, crowds, and buzzing sound set the atmosphere for the Salamanca Market. Strolling to the market stalls, I catch a glimpse of the handsome, dressed in red, Sydney-Hobart, Wild Oats race contenders chatting it up in their sea tossed hair. I think that if I were a sailor, I wish were one of them. Sunny and hot, then sunny and cold. Down on the waterfront today, ‘tis a perfect day for spending hours being lazy and watching the yachts moor in the harbour. Staring at the boats, I imagine myself lazing about on one of those grand sailboats, sailing the Bras d’Or lakes during a hot, summer day; someday, perhaps. Walking through the gourmet aromas and perfumes, my stomach was telling me that I must eat something delicious, full of fat and of course, hot. Sight, taste and smell were on an all time high, making my way through the hearty, mouth-watering haze, which guided me to the sausage stand. Later on after inhaling my sausage wrap, fruit, flowers, jewellery, home crafts and clothing paved my experiences through the rest of the market. Some creamy, carmel-y, Tassie Tiger homemade fudge melted its way into my stomach as Steph and I make our way back to find Paula, Kevin, Mac and Emma. On our way to locate the rest of the family, two giant kangaroo’s go hopping on by; we try to edge closer to get some good close-up photos. Waiting for that picture perfect moment, I felt as though I was a little girl at the circus waiting in line for a balloon, then snap! Picture history! Two giant kangaroos later, I look across the harbour and take another mental photograph then head home with the rest of the gang.
Between the trips into Hobart, the caves and outings in and around Kingston Beach, I tucked my city spirit away for two weeks and unpacked my country gal passions. While living at my sister’s place and being so close to the beach, I fell in love and took up with shell picking. A few times when Steph and I made it down to the beach, we decided to go on a shell collecting mission and pick up as many shells as possible on the beach. Exotic, colored, and intricate, many shells filled my Ziploc bag and took up space in my suitcase on the journey home. Shells like the ones we found on the beaches were shells that I had only seen on postcards or in beach stores. Scouring the sand, going knee deep in water to extract these beautiful sculptures, I felt at peace with everything. Visions of shell necklaces, bracelets and earrings filled my thoughts and preoccupied my mind. I was a shell hunter and gather, seriously, it was truly releasing. Being in Tasmania brought back my feelings of how I deeply appreciate nature and life as a laid-back beach bum. I think I’ll trade in my black, Nine West stilettos for a dozen pairs of Roxy flip flops. Sitting in the hot, dusty Australian sand, digging my feet in deeper, I think how much I’d love to stay here for much, much longer. Later in the week, we made our way to Bonorong Wildlife Park. It was a huge highlight as we were able to see Australian wildlife in the flesh or should I say the fur. Kola’s, Tassie Devils, peacocks and Kangaroo’s, oh my! It was magnificent to feed, to come so close and to touch an animal that you only saw on TV, once upon a time ago. Mack and Emma loved every bit.
I desired big plans for New Year’s Eve, but in the grand scheme of two weeks, all od what I really wanted to do was spend time with my sister, her family, and Stephanie, who we have known for over the past twenty years. Family, friends, wine, food, and movies became the highlight of New Year’s; I wouldn’t have had it any other way. A couple of private tears dampened that evening and my cheeks as time was of the essence. My time in Taz was approaching an end in only four days.
It was hot and a crystal, clear day. Heading back down the beach just one more time to pick more shells, watch the waves roll in, and to think about my past two weeks before my 5:45pm flight to Melbourne was due out. Paula, Steph, the two kids and I head down to Kingston beach for lunch and some togetherness time in the sand. A final Cascade draught beer on the beach, watching the kids play in the water while baking in the hot southern sun was my first Tasmania good bye. I became burdened with emotions of not wanting to leave a beautiful two weeks with the only family I have in this part of the world. Dreading the journey home to Hong Kong, I tried to comfort myself thinking of a life I could have someday just like those two weeks in Tasmania. Wandering thoughts and imagination kept me from tearing up on the car ride to the airport. The wandering thoughts brought me to think that maybe a life like my two weeks in Tasmania is not really that far off. Could Calgary really pan out? Could I live near the mountains again like I had always hoped? Maybe I could have that laid-back lifestyle after all. For a long time, I was still eagerly waiting to hear from the Calgary school board and the possibility of a teaching position there and perhaps, a new life.
Being strong and brave, I said all my good-byes and was left at the airport to gather my thoughts, my dreams, my wishes and my emotions so that I could make my way on the plane. Itching to get out so that my sadness was shortened, I was held up at the Hobart airport for over five hours. The plane that I was supposed to fly out on was experiencing mechanical difficulties; I’m glad we didn’t fly. Instead, a new plane was flown in from Melbourne, which I boarded at 9:30pm. Now, anxiety was dominating my stomach and of missing my connecting flight to Hong Kong at midnight. Lucky me, I made the Melbourne-Hong Kong connection with the help of Po, a Quantas worker who escorted me all the way from the plane, through international departures right to gate 9. Up in the air again, eating, movie surfing, book reading and restlessness busied my flight back to Hong Kong. On the red eye flight, all that I could think about was that beach lifestyle or rocky mountain type of life I may someday be living. Being in Australia for the Christmas holidays, Tasmania gave me back the best Christmas gift of all; the return of my lost love of nature and the outdoors. Living in Hong Kong I forgot how much I love the birds singing, the smell of grass, clean air and the beautiful ocean perfume. Feeling lonely and a little sad, my Christmas memories of Emma and Mac kept me cozy for the rest of the flight home. Brrrrrrrrrr, I thought, listening to the flight attendant announce the weather in Hong Kong; a balmy ten degrees. It’s 2008 and now, I’m so happy to think that I’ll be starting a Canadian countdown. To Calgary it is! Since my return from Tasmania, I was very fortunate to learn of my position with the Calgary board of education. Excitement and happiness were the only thoughts when I received the fantastic news of my new life in Canada. Wow, that nature-loving lifestyle is just on the horizon. Look out Rockies, I will come, I will have fun, I will conquer!
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