Under Down Under Tasmania
Temperamental
climate, diverse landscapes, and lots of beer and wine. Little of Tasmania is
nothing like Australia
P LEASE STAY seated, it’s not safe to leave the aircraft.
We’re experiencing a bit of lightning on the runway,” says the captain casually
as our plane arrives at Hobart. I half expect the aircraft to be struck by
lightning and try to recollect whether we’ll all get electrocuted or not. But
soon, we’re briefed that it’s safe to deplane. As I walk towards the entrance
gate, I manage a quick look around. It’s 4pm, cold, highly overcast and very
windy with a wee bit of drizzle. This is not the Australian summer I was
promised.
As it turns out, very little of this
Tasmanian capital, or any part of Tasmania is anything like the Australia I had
imagined. Hobart’s weather is
as temperamental as its landscape.
Warm Pacific currents are suddenly ousted by the colder waters of the Southern
Ocean. A sunny day will harbour a thunderstorm just as soon. It’s the same with
the countryside. Craggy cliffs find their way to the ocean in precarious
manners. Vast midlands detour into temperate rain forests where tree ferns have
barely changed in 500 million years. Chris Putnam, my pal from Melbourne who’s
gone trekking in Tasmania many times, bursts my bubble when he says, “You’ll
need at least a month to ‘splore Tassie, mate.”
ALL IS WELL
My bus doesn’t share the road with
any other vehicle, so I get to see views of the countryside, but also reach
sooner than intended. My host, Stefan Kowalik, figures that that he won’t be
able to pick me up from the bus station on time and suggests I take the short
walk to Mures, a pub down by the docks. Mures, which does great fish-n-chips
and tap beer (especially Indian Pale Ale) is the sort of welcome I’m looking
for. As I soak in the warmth from the electric heaters, I’m introduced to
Stefan’s Argentine girlfriend Paulina, their Irish roommate Sean, their German
friend Marius who teaches capoeira for a living, and his visiting Canadian
guest, Cherami.
Stefan, Paulina and Sean’s house is
perched atop a hill at Liverpool Crescent and has spectacular views. It’s the
equivalent of the Governor’s bungalow in Mumbai, but more personal and desolate
with prettier scenery. Stefan is also a prolific brewer. His homebrews range
from wheat beers to spicy Mexican ales to dark chocolaty malts to summer
lagers. No doubt, he’s a bit stocky but explains unapologetically as he pats
his tummy, “Someone’s gotta drink it, mate.” Later, several Indian eateries
that specialise in biryanis and beef masalas catch my eye. Out of curiosity, I
interrogate the chefs on what brings them so far from home. Most of them are from
Malaysia and have stuck around. “Life’s good, there’s no reason to suffer the
daily grind elsewhere,” says store manager, Dharam.
COAST TO COAST
With the main city district that
doesn’t extend past 10 km, it’s easy to get about on a cycle, which can be
hired for free from the MONA (Museum of Old and New Art). The museum is rated
the best in the Southern Hemisphere. Among its exhibits is a ‘poop machine’
that emulates the action of the human stomach and intestines and artificially
converts food into excrement. Apparently, not many visitors can.
Nikhil Hemrajani HTBR 121118
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