Skip to main content

Taste of Tassi

I have a friend who insists on sending her postcards wherever I am travelling. Shit I never seem to find time for that as I am busy eating, shopping, clicking pictures of myself and screening which to put up on Facebook. I was in Hobart, harbour capital of Tasmania, last weekend. Such a picturesque place but neither my camera nor my cameraman did any justice to the place. So I was looking at postcards to frame as memoirs.

Salamanca market
I usually find Australia such a uniform country, uniform in its sight, sound, smell and colour. You find a Coles, Woolworths, Aldi, Valleygirl, Sportsgirl, etc., everywhere and you find similar houses and similar layouts of suburbs. Most Indians would describe that about the west especially coming from diverse, chaotic, smelly, colourful and peopled backgrounds. After reading travel bible Lonely Planet had listed Hobart as one of the top ten cities of the world to visit, my excitement was palpable. As Jetstar, the airline we were flying in, touched down Hobart on a Friday noon in just an hour, something felt things were going to be a bit different.

For one, I love the rains as much as I love my sleep. No, I am not suffering from depression. But a rain-soaked Hobart held out that romantic appeal. We were met by a charming, friendly taxi driver who gave us a first stir of Tasmanian comfort. Such a polite man, he also told us Charlie (Prince Charles and Camilla) had come calling the day before. I had made my own small to-do list.

And there bang in the middle of Australia’s most historical city at Macquarie Street was our hotel standing opposite an 1800 built church. We dumped our bags and ventured out, the rain notwithstanding. Old buildings, few skyscrapers and green surrounds, this small city looked like a scene straight out of a novel. I wouldn’t mind being stranded here alone!

But it was the Salamanca market the next sunny morning and a trip by boat to the famous Mona Gallery that I realised what a missed opportunity this would have been had I not come. Every Saturday morning, the Salamanca Place with its nineteenth century waterfront warehouses dating back to the 1830s and surrounded by yachts and boats buzzes with activity as it holds its outdoor weekly market. You get your flavour of Tasmania here. Local producers sell everything from organic fruits and veggies to local craft, clothes, jewelleries, paintings, bags, flowers and food. 
Spooky! A work of art on display at Mona 

Then there is entertainment with numerous local musicians and such talented souls playing different instruments and singing. I loved every moment wading through Salamanca with its cafes, restaurants, galleries and art studio. Such a cultural hub! 

Mona Gallery was out of the world. In brief, it is the largest privately funded museum in Australia boasting antiques, modern and contemporary art. Never seen anything like it before. I will need a page to describe Mona and reserving that for my travel pieces. Just trying to fill my page with some writing as I have been so slack and the creative juices are not flowing. My three-hour tour of the gallery ended with a nice old pinot noir by the clear blue waters, which someone on my Facebook photo called the ‘fifty shades of blue’. How apt. I did come out feeling rapturous in more ways than one.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A Mad Man Or A Boor

What does one do when one encounters a mad dog? Or what does one do when one encounters a man with pre-fixed notions about everything in life, most specifically of women who live alone and give him some importance? The two are equivalent to me and basic intelligence says avoid the paths they tread like plague. But I chose to tackle them head on. I almost got rabbies.

The mad man said [sic] "You sound like a very desperate person. A single and frustrated woman who is looking for anyone to leave a comment on your blog so much so that you wouldn't even spare a spammer." Spammer being, the first comment on the previous post is apparently a spam, an advert for T-shirts. Bummer! I thought it was a handsome Spaniard or Latino, so I had replied "Hi Rodrigo", hoping to take the conversation forward offline. Anyway! All this the mad man found out. I didnt. Sure, I dig comments because I love the spontaneity and intelligence of my friends. And I didn't invite the mad m…

The Churn

11 am: There I was bang on time at work, perhaps, in a long time. The occasion: a meeting called by the top boss and compulsory attendance required. I am, as always, out of the loop. Reason being there is always so much happening in my life that I am always behind everything. That does not mean I fail to deliver! And unlike some people who are truly into perception management (will delve on it later) and are such repository for all 'inside news', office gossip and politics least interest me. I mean, who cares if someone is quitting for some place else or is having an affair with so and so, or is being transferred unless that person happens to be someone I am generally fond of. Maybe then I would have been privy to some of the classified information ahem... So, was I in for shock today?

The meeting was sombre and had a full house attendance. And then our top boss spilled the beans. Three of the men at the helm were either quitting or were assuming other responsibilities and a ne…

O-B-A-M-A

Two million people at the National Mall in Washington alone. The world watched too as Barack Obama was sworn in as the 44th President of the United States. So did I. I rudely cut roomie's soap operas and switched to CNN to witness history being created. Some day I may live to tell the tale of how Barack, the much touted Afro-American President of the United States, stumbled with his swearing-in oath.

I was a bit disappointed as I watched the man who had run the most successful of election campaigns, the man who Americans were pinning their hopes on, take his oath. Clearly, he was under too much of a pressure to be the best. So before Chief Justice John Roberts could complete the first sentence, there was Obama abruptly breaking out into his first names... "I Barack Hussein Obama.." and then waited for the judge to complete the sentence.. The next line was even taxing. He stopped short after two words... "That I will excute..." and then Justice Roberts continued…