Notes On Tasmania
Nov. 15th, 2009 10:00 pm![[personal profile]](http://s.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
etfbIt's pleasantly chilly. I was cold last night, but I didn't bother adding an extra blanket because I wanted to remember the feeling for when I get back to the continent. I hear it's ranging between disgusting and repugnant up there. Not looking forward to finding out.
People here are evangelists. They all love spruiking Tasmania. Everywhere we go there's someone trying to convince us to move here. The Beloved believes this is so they can increase their property values; I suspect it's because they want to try to outnumber the rednecks but they can't get there by breeding because it takes too long.
Drivers are very polite. They wave if you let them into your lane. People standing by the side of the road wave too. Maybe we're just frequenting places that don't see many visitors? I don't know.
There are cyclists everywhere, but that may be because of some kind of fundraising thing that was happening this weekend. They ride up hills that I'd think twice about driving up.
Four wheel drives are useful beasts on the aforementioned hills. I'm glad our temporary hire car is a 4WD, even if that automatically makes us wankers.
The food is astonishing. We went to the Contented Bear cafe tonight and I had lamb shanks cooked by the former head chef of the Carrington. It was incredible. And then I had dessert that was even better. And all the food at all the cafes has been amazing, with the solitary exception of the greasy scrambled eggs at a cafe in Hobart a couple of mornings ago. It's funny: Melbourne produces nothing of any value but has foodie cred out the wazoo; Queensland is a food basket but all the restaurants are average-going-on-meh (though the quantities are good); I assumed the places that produce food were the ones that didn't know how to cook it. Tasmania wrecks that theory.
They all pronounce "Devonshire tea" as "Devon Shire tea" here. That's weird.
We went to the Huon Show yesterday. All the little redneck kiddies had elaborate plastic guns. There was some kind of showbag or something. Why???
This part of the world is all rednecks and hippies. The rednecks are gun nuts; the hippies are obsessed with naturopathy and aromatherapy and other such clueless woo. I still prefer the hippies: homeopathy, unlike guns, can only kill you if you were already sick...
The GPS that we borrowed from friends in Launceston was clearly programmed to make Huonville look bad, by deliberately navigating me by the twisty-turny Huon Road, instead of the straight and wide Huon Highway. Luckily we remembered in time today, and avoided believing it.
We want to live here. But I'd need a job. I've worked for myself before, and I'm a crap boss. So where do I get a job? It's a quandary.
People here are evangelists. They all love spruiking Tasmania. Everywhere we go there's someone trying to convince us to move here. The Beloved believes this is so they can increase their property values; I suspect it's because they want to try to outnumber the rednecks but they can't get there by breeding because it takes too long.
Drivers are very polite. They wave if you let them into your lane. People standing by the side of the road wave too. Maybe we're just frequenting places that don't see many visitors? I don't know.
There are cyclists everywhere, but that may be because of some kind of fundraising thing that was happening this weekend. They ride up hills that I'd think twice about driving up.
Four wheel drives are useful beasts on the aforementioned hills. I'm glad our temporary hire car is a 4WD, even if that automatically makes us wankers.
The food is astonishing. We went to the Contented Bear cafe tonight and I had lamb shanks cooked by the former head chef of the Carrington. It was incredible. And then I had dessert that was even better. And all the food at all the cafes has been amazing, with the solitary exception of the greasy scrambled eggs at a cafe in Hobart a couple of mornings ago. It's funny: Melbourne produces nothing of any value but has foodie cred out the wazoo; Queensland is a food basket but all the restaurants are average-going-on-meh (though the quantities are good); I assumed the places that produce food were the ones that didn't know how to cook it. Tasmania wrecks that theory.
They all pronounce "Devonshire tea" as "Devon Shire tea" here. That's weird.
We went to the Huon Show yesterday. All the little redneck kiddies had elaborate plastic guns. There was some kind of showbag or something. Why???
This part of the world is all rednecks and hippies. The rednecks are gun nuts; the hippies are obsessed with naturopathy and aromatherapy and other such clueless woo. I still prefer the hippies: homeopathy, unlike guns, can only kill you if you were already sick...
The GPS that we borrowed from friends in Launceston was clearly programmed to make Huonville look bad, by deliberately navigating me by the twisty-turny Huon Road, instead of the straight and wide Huon Highway. Luckily we remembered in time today, and avoided believing it.
We want to live here. But I'd need a job. I've worked for myself before, and I'm a crap boss. So where do I get a job? It's a quandary.