Hobart 2

Day 2 and The Frenchman and I have eaten enough last night to make breakfast obsolete. We head to Salamanca Markets, because that's what you do in Hobart on Saturdays, and the only thing we buy is food including this particular slice of heaven (below) which becomes the entree for the breakfast I wasn't going to have... (I choose the blueberry version)

There's more too, like a local specialty: Scallop Pie, we'll call that main and is very good. Dessert is a dutch delicacy and I buy more but that's enough for now or I'll start to feel fat. Again.

We then head to Bruny Island, because again, that's what you do. And we head to the far south of it, terrorising every driver on the road as we go, (including our own) . Of course at the end, there's a lighthouse - and doesn't every lighthouse have a story of hardship... so I don't read most of the historical depiction of it but instead go take photos of the island just south of it, because it's quite spectacular and the rock formations are great. But I don't like the photos as much as the reality - so you won't be seeing more of them.

After terrorising the remaining drivers on the island and taking in the sights (as seen below with the Frenchman) we drive onto the car ferry that we all independently think "I don't want this ferry to be the way I die". And thankfully it's not. A quick, much needed swim in the Hobart Aquatic centre is punctuated in the open showers with a man who is obviously happy to see me, but I decline more Tasmanian forestry and we head back to the hotel for a run around the locale and then head out to dinner.

SMOLT is the venue tonight and smouldering Lynnette the guest diner, (who is grilled to well done by Sean, the vegetarian). It's good, we share 5 desserts between us and roll onto the footpath to stroll the square, window shopping the galleries then drive to the top of Mount Wellington - where we get out into a freezing gale that wakes us well and truly up (it's nearing midnight now). We rush to the edge, peer to the sparkling city below and rush back to the car to thaw.

Sunday takes us to the deep south to explore the forest, countryside and autumnal leaves. I'm feeling a little blue, but nothing like a bit of rain, suspended canopy walks and swinging suspension bridges to make you feel alive... (see photo at the top of this post). Sean tries to kill us on everything we get into or on and the suspension bridges are still vibrating violently, but despite his efforts, we make it home, safe and sound.

Hobart 1

So after a precisely tuned departure from work, a picking up of The Frenchman, and a negotiation of ANZAC day traffic (mostly headed to local watering holes in my observation) we get to the airport with way more time on our hands than normal so have a reasonably gourmet breakfast on the ground rather than a less so one in the air. In fact it is remarkably good. I might even head to the airport just for it one day, maybe.

Virgin spits us out with some quip in Hobart and the freezing day we expected has simmered into a reasonably warm one. We are picked up by the gorgeous Sean, and head to Port Arthur exploring along the way. The cafe we've been hanging out for since 1995 when we first discovered it is still operating - Eaglehawk Neck Cafe - but as we arrive we find it's closed for ANZAC day - bloody hell - all this way (and time!) and lunch plans are demolished - but by now it's after 2pm and the list of options is rapidly narrowing. The last time we ate at Port Arthur was shortly before the massacre happened there and that cafe is now a memorial... So we eat generic food elsewhere, then wander around and I actually like it here a lot more this time than last.

The sandstone on the decaying buildings has none of the wear of those in Sydney - it looks like it's been freshly quarried and at times I wonder if it has, must be something to do with the pristine air they talk about down here - though today it's a smoke haze with forest back burning that seems to have been very poorly planned in recent days, and we're coughing and my eyes are a bit sore, but I'm away for the long weekend so I'm still happy.

We head back to civilisation and our accommodation at The Islington Hotel in Hobart is it. We're greeted by Kelly who is at once warm, engaging and beautiful, and we feel at home right away. The rooms are sensational, and ours subtly has the seal of the hotel's owners in a painting of two naked men sitting together (though you have to look twice to see that that's in fact what you're looking at.) I've been up since 6.15am and I collapse into the huge bath for an eternity before heading out to dinner. Marque IV is the place - and the food is sublime. My main is 3 variations of Salmon and I can still taste them all (in a good way). More please!