Hanging in Hobart

Been staying here for the past few days, Hobart's a nice place; pretty harbour, wooded Mount Wellington dominating the scene behind, some beautiful old buildings. And great seafood - as instructed by Lonely Planet I bought some, my first-ever oyster in fact. Very nice too, even if it didn't give me the raging horn I thought they were supposed to. Probably just as well. Getting the dreaded tour bus to Port Arthur tomorrow, no doubt full of old farts and drunken British yobbery (suppose that might be a touch paranoid). All well if not massively eventful at present; Geelong won the Aussie Rules final, you'll be riveted to know. Ta-ta for now

Jailbird

Well, I'm still here and it doesn't seem likely I'm going to be leaving too soon, I'm having far too much fun hanging around and basking in the pleasure of not having to do anything that I don't really want to do. Such as getting up at a reasonable hour or spending more than an hour or 2 a day vertical.
That said, I have actually managed to get round to a few things beside sleeping and watching the fire (superior to most TV); currently staying in a little village called Triabunna on the eastern coast of Tassie. Not much here besides a lovely backpacker's (situated in the middle of rolling fields, chooks and sheep and featuring besides aforementioned wood fire, home-made cookies and a steady stream of interesting company) and the ferry to Maria Island, one of the old penal colonies built here for the hardened crims of the 1820s. A beautiful spot and full of bizarre wildlife (Ozzie fauna thus far seems to me chiefly to be distinguished by spectacular, almost wilful weirdness - even the ordinary-looking ones make up for it by coming out with noise you'd more usually associate with industrial machinery, old-school dialup modems, fire alarms or The Goon Show), but also pretty damn bleak if you were stuck there I imagine. Spent a night, as sole guest, in the old penitentiary with nothing but a candle and a sputtering fire for company. 5-star it wasn't, but as memorable as you'd imagine. Makes you bloody glad you're not a convict and it isn't the 1820s (as I often have cause to reflect).
Hanging round here until the next bus on Wednesday, after which either Hobart or the Tasman Peninsula and another old prison - I love 'em.

pastures new

Greetings, I'm here at 20 to 1 in a hostel in Launceston, NE Tasmania, sharing the place at this time of night with the overweight hostel cat Fuji and no-one else, waiting for the rugby to come on in 2 1/2 hours (England being slaughtered by South Africa most likely) and reflecting a bit on the last few weeks. The end of Melbourne was a blast, from drinking absinthe on the balcony of a very posh bar in the CBD to a work leaving lunch that almost ended in several fights to a weekend with the boys flying up and down the coast to a 5 1/2 hour karaoke stint with a housemate to the boat oiver on Tuesday night...and well, here I am. Tasmania feels like a different country so far, hard to remember I'm still in Oz. Dunno how long I'm gonna be here but it's feeling good so far.