It seems that for the last year or so all we’ve been able to see at the movies is Australian films.
That might be because Hollywood has not been producing too many films because of COVID safety protocols, but for whatever reason, there’s been a flurry of Australian-made films hitting the cinemas.
And, once upon a time, I used to cringe when viewing anything made in this country, simply because of what was perceived to be our national identity and unique sense of humour.
We still have that, but toned back to the point where we still have that sense of uniqueness, but these days is displayed in a more contemporary setting, one that could be here, or almost mistaken for anywhere else in the world.
Of course, there are some characters that are seemingly over the top, but these seem to be more for comic light relief from a number of more serious themes that play out, one who finds it difficult to propose marriage, one who laments not knowing his mother, an missing-in-action husband, and the drifting apart of a brother and sister.
And then there is Mim, the woman washed ashore with amnesia, who arrives fortuitously to resolve all of the above, over the course of a single day, or the two hours running time, time that passed quickly and didn’t fail to entertain.
While the premise might have stretched the imagination a little too far, at least everything was tied up in a neat package in the end.
Poetry is like art, its beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
But, while art can be very subjective, poetry often has a special meaning, to both the writer and then the reader. In turn, for each of us readers, a poem will have a different meaning, some will see what it represents, and others may not.
And, whilst I have not read a lot of poetry over the years, that changed recently when I subscribed to several blogs and discovered this whole new class of literature.
This view was strengthened when I came across a volume of poems by Jenny Andrews, titled Life at the End of the Rainbow.
For me, each poem is an insight into an extraordinary life, where the author sometimes lays bare those raw emotions, which, at times, we will find ourselves drawing parallels.
In a sense, I think we have all been to this mythical place called, The End of the Rainbow, and sometimes need a gentle reminder that it took a lot of ups and downs to get there.
This is, to my mind, a remarkable piece of work.
I, for one, can’t wait to see what the next stage of the journey will be.
We have stayed in two different types of accommodation in Coffs Harbour, New South Wales, Australia, as a timeshare owner who can trade their week for a week anywhere in the world.
Both are resorts, but different sorts of resorts. The first was a typical RCI resort, where everything is laid back and relaxing, with all the amenities one can expect from a resort.
The other, this one, the Wyndham in Coffs Harbour, is very different, and you notice it when you walk in the front door. You are virtually assaulted by hard-nosed timeshare sales staff who really don’t take no for an answer, and then when you finally escape, ring you every day to make an appointment.
I left the phone off the hook.
Aside from that, the place is excellent, the accommodation very good, and the situation one of the best with what could be called a private beach. There are also a number of bushwalks that cater to old people like me.
As you can see, lakes and greenery, and even a putting green.
And in places, they try very hard to hide the ugly multi-story buildings in amongst the trees
It is only a short walk to the ‘private beach’ and it is sufficiently long enough for a morning walk before breakfast. You could even try to catch some fish for breakfast, though I’m not sure if anyone actually caught anything
Or you can just stare out to sea
And, back in the room, this is the view we had from our verandah
Overnight the rain began and hasn’t stopped. It is cold, and the heater in the room is not quite adequate for the space it has to heat up. Fortunately, the bed has electric blankets, and it was warm, lying wake listening to the raindrops. That warmth makes it difficult to get out of bed, but this is a holiday, and we have to get motivated.
We have a balcony, and from there the bleakness of the early morning is stark, but at least the rain is light if not a fine mist.
Worse, it alternates between this fine mist and a short downpour, which means the umbrella goes up and down until you give up. Later, the rain is not heavy, and just tolerable.
We head off to the Salamanca markets, happening only on Saturday morning. Unable to walk long distances, we drive, about four minutes from our apartment, but miss a turn, it takes 10, then and 5 to assess the parking situation which, in the end, was the easiest part of this expedition.
The hardest part, walking among the very large crowd of people defying the rain and cold. I can tolerate large crowds but today, they seem to want to stop suddenly, and just stand and talk in the middle of the walkways making it difficult to impossible to maintain any sort of continuity.
There were hundreds of stalls, the most predominant, micro distillers for some odd reason, selling expensive spirits for about $90 a 700ml bottle, which I regard as overly expensive. My son has made Bourbon some years ago and it cost him about $10 for 4.5 liters, so it must be a lucrative sideline, even after you’ve added the excise.
There were a great many food stands, and choices, one of which was a curly potato skewer, which was interesting to say the least. On a meat pie quest, we found a stand that sold pies, but they were warming a new batch, and the waiting line was about 50 or 60 people long.
I went back a half-hour later and they had sold out. They must be one of the highlights of the market to be so in demand, and that people would stand in the cold and rain just to get one.
Having been defeated by aches and pains, the cold and rain, as well as the large crowd, and the absence of anything we wanted, it was fortunate that time had expired on our parking space.
We had contemplated finding a restaurant to have lunch, deciding it was time to have a proper meal rather than a snack, there didn’t seem to be any places open, and the cafes were packed.
This sparked off an odyssey to find a decent restaurant.
After leaving the markets, we find a road that follows the coastline. Aside from houses either side, and at one point a marina and the Wrest Point casino, which was not a place we intended to visit, the further we went, the less chance it seemed of finding what we were looking for.
But we did find a tourist attraction, a shot tower, and a museum.
And a tea room that had afternoon tea. Not exactly what we were looking for. That said, and feeling like going any further would not fix the search parameters, I go to Google maps and search for restaurants near us.
There’s a Vietnamese restaurant, 6.1 km back the way we came, and being the best choice out of five or six others, we go.
And here’s the thing, it’s just around the corner from where we’re staying. Go figure.
But, there is a twist, we drive past one of the hotels that were recommended to us back at the apartments, so we go there, the Hotel Doctor Syntax. We figure we’re more likely to get the vegetable component there than the other place.
It turns out to be a master stroke, getting steak, pork belly, roast potatoes, gravy, asparagus, and seafood on the side. All having generous servings as one would expect from a hotel bistro.
The food must be great because they were full and had to turn people away. We were very lucky to get the last table but one, and that one didn’t last very long.
After a long, leisurely lunch surrounded by warmth and atmosphere, we had one more stop. Coffee and cake at Daci and Daci, a café recommended to us.
It was worth the experience, although it took some fortitude to fit it in after such a large lunch. I suspect before we go back for a second visit, yes, it was that good, we will make sure we are less full of lunch first. The cake I had was delicious but very filling. The coffee? Excellent.
We have stayed in two different types of accommodation in Coffs Harbour, New South Wales, Australia, as a timeshare owner who can trade their week for a week anywhere in the world.
Both are resorts, but different sorts of resorts. The first was a typical RCI resort, where everything is laid back and relaxing, with all the amenities one can expect from a resort.
The other, this one, the Wyndham in Coffs Harbour, is very different, and you notice it when you walk in the front door. You are virtually assaulted by hard-nosed timeshare sales staff who really don’t take no for an answer, and then when you finally escape, ring you every day to make an appointment.
I left the phone off the hook.
Aside from that, the place is excellent, the accommodation very good, and the situation one of the best with what could be called a private beach. There are also a number of bushwalks that cater to old people like me.
As you can see, lakes and greenery, and even a putting green.
And in places, they try very hard to hide the ugly multi-story buildings in amongst the trees
It is only a short walk to the ‘private beach’ and it is sufficiently long enough for a morning walk before breakfast. You could even try to catch some fish for breakfast, though I’m not sure if anyone actually caught anything
Or you can just stare out to sea
And, back in the room, this is the view we had from our verandah
It is not raining when we woke, but it had been most of the night. After a cold start, the weather, seems to have improved, if only for the time being.
Today’s expedition is the Cascade Brewery, which doesn’t have tours at the moment because of staff issues with Covid, but does have a bar and restaurant. There is also a historic site, an old women’s prison, and botanical gardens. I’m not sure how far we’ll get in the gardens, but the bar and restaurant is looking good.
We get there and decide on lunch first then a visit to the women’s prison.
Fail. The bar and restaurant are packed and there are no tables left. Time for a photograph of the old brewery, and move on.
Instead of going to the prison, just down the road, we go off in a different direction, to Mt Wellington, thinking it might give excellent views of Hobart.
Only a sign says the road is supposed to be closed, but it is not, so we and a dozen others are venturing up the road towards the summit.
The road was probably opened temporarily, but it is getting more treacherous as the snow appears and the road is wet. We make it about 2km before deciding it’s unsafe.
The adventure continues because at the bottom of the hill we decided to go to Huonville, hoping to chance upon the apple orchards and all things apple.
It was an immense letdown. There was nothing, except for one innocuous building with a sign out front saying it was open, but for all intents and purposes looked like it was completely empty.
Until you drove around the back to the carpark where there were hundreds of cars, and inside, totally packed.
It’s where everyone in Huonville had gone.
And not where we were going to get a distinctly Tasmanian meal.
We had to settle for another pie from Banjo’s in Sandy Bay.
I knew there was a reason why we don’t travel anymore.
And now, everyone is letting go of the Covid shackles, and the airports are overwhelmed.
Yesterday, the Qantas baggage system broke down and caused endless delays. Today, we’re in a queue that’s literally a mile long, just to be screened before we even get into the terminal.
And, we are in a smaller plane operated by Qantas Link, the main airline’s feeder. Confusingly, it has two names, National Jet Systems, and Qantas Link, the name painted on the aircraft.
Our plane is a Boeing 717, but it is actually an MD 95, made by McDonnell Douglas before Boeing took them over.
And so, it begins…
Boarding time comes and goes, as it always seems to, this time that age-old excuse, the flight attendants are on an incoming flight that is delayed but is on the ground.
That could mean almost anything, but in this case, we’re told, that they are coming from another satellite some distance away. Well, at least they will get some exercise.
9:56. The attendants arrived. They just got off the plane from Newcastle, so it can be confusing, going from destination to destination, well, at least for me it would be. For them, it’s all in a day’s work.
I asked for early boarding because Rosemary cannot walk very well, so it remains to be seen if this happens.
It does, and it’s a slow walk downstairs, and upstairs, but we have to wait because there is a sewerage spill and while waiting to get clearance to board, we’re getting a birds-eye view of the poor man who has to clean it up doesn’t make the wait any easier.
By 10:10, we were on the plane and seated.
We’re organizing a wheelchair and assistance at Hobart, to make things easier.
Minutes later our traveling companions are boarding.
Some confusion reigns, we are sitting in the wrong seats, row 5 instead of row 6. A bit of seat shuffling and everything is good.
10:30: The sewerage spill has been cleaned up. The front door is still open, but they just connected the tow vehicle.
10:33: Doors closed. 10:35: Push back. 10:40: Heading to the runway. 10:45: Take off, or is that wheels up? It’s not on the new second runway, perhaps because there are so many complaints from the residents nearby.
11:00: Time for a snack. It’s Tomato Salsa with corn chips, almonds, and pretzels. 60 grams worth, small but reasonably tasty.
Now we’re left to our own devices, as there is no onboard entertainment, and the plane is too small and too old to have onboard Wi-Fi.
Perhaps a siesta, but the seat is too uncomfortable to find a position that will allow it, so I guess a bit of writing is in order.
That and staring out the window and noticing that we have been hugging the coastline almost all the way south, except for when we were crossing Bass Strait, 32,000 feet above the waves.
Bass Strait is not a waterway you want to willingly cross at the best of times, and I have, once, crossed it at the worst of times, and it wasn’t fun.
1:00: Startin that, you would expect from such conditions.
I had expected, given the forecast for rain and heavy winds that we would have a treacherous landing but it was not, the rain had passed and the wind not as bad, and got on the ground without much ado.
It was exactly as the pilot said, 1:30 pm.
We were the last to disembark, with a wheelchair at the end of the disembarkation ramp, there are no air bridges here in Hobart.
My first impression of the airport, it’s like a country town with a tin shed, though the terminal looks a lot different inside than outside. And they do have international flights.
Our bags we out by the time we reached the baggage carousel, then it was off to the car rental counter for an effortless and pain-free pickup.
The worst thing was the distance from the terminal to where the car was parked.
Overnight the rain began and hasn’t stopped. It is cold, and the heater in the room is not quite adequate for the space it has to heat up. Fortunately, the bed has electric blankets, and it was warm, lying wake listening to the raindrops. That warmth makes it difficult to get out of bed, but this is a holiday, and we have to get motivated.
We have a balcony, and from there the bleakness of the early morning is stark, but at least the rain is light if not a fine mist.
Worse, it alternates between this fine mist and a short downpour, which means the umbrella goes up and down until you give up. Later, the rain is not heavy, and just tolerable.
We head off to the Salamanca markets, happening only on Saturday morning. Unable to walk long distances, we drive, about four minutes from our apartment, but miss a turn, it takes 10, then and 5 to assess the parking situation which, in the end, was the easiest part of this expedition.
The hardest part, walking among the very large crowd of people defying the rain and cold. I can tolerate large crowds but today, they seem to want to stop suddenly, and just stand and talk in the middle of the walkways making it difficult to impossible to maintain any sort of continuity.
There were hundreds of stalls, the most predominant, micro distillers for some odd reason, selling expensive spirits for about $90 a 700ml bottle, which I regard as overly expensive. My son has made Bourbon some years ago and it cost him about $10 for 4.5 liters, so it must be a lucrative sideline, even after you’ve added the excise.
There were a great many food stands, and choices, one of which was a curly potato skewer, which was interesting to say the least. On a meat pie quest, we found a stand that sold pies, but they were warming a new batch, and the waiting line was about 50 or 60 people long.
I went back a half-hour later and they had sold out. They must be one of the highlights of the market to be so in demand, and that people would stand in the cold and rain just to get one.
Having been defeated by aches and pains, the cold and rain, as well as the large crowd, and the absence of anything we wanted, it was fortunate that time had expired on our parking space.
We had contemplated finding a restaurant to have lunch, deciding it was time to have a proper meal rather than a snack, there didn’t seem to be any places open, and the cafes were packed.
This sparked off an odyssey to find a decent restaurant.
After leaving the markets, we find a road that follows the coastline. Aside from houses either side, and at one point a marina and the Wrest Point casino, which was not a place we intended to visit, the further we went, the less chance it seemed of finding what we were looking for.
But we did find a tourist attraction, a shot tower, and a museum.
And a tea room that had afternoon tea. Not exactly what we were looking for. That said, and feeling like going any further would not fix the search parameters, I go to Google maps and search for restaurants near us.
There’s a Vietnamese restaurant, 6.1 km back the way we came, and being the best choice out of five or six others, we go.
And here’s the thing, it’s just around the corner from where we’re staying. Go figure.
But, there is a twist, we drive past one of the hotels that were recommended to us back at the apartments, so we go there, the Hotel Doctor Syntax. We figure we’re more likely to get the vegetable component there than the other place.
It turns out to be a master stroke, getting steak, pork belly, roast potatoes, gravy, asparagus, and seafood on the side. All having generous servings as one would expect from a hotel bistro.
The food must be great because they were full and had to turn people away. We were very lucky to get the last table but one, and that one didn’t last very long.
After a long, leisurely lunch surrounded by warmth and atmosphere, we had one more stop. Coffee and cake at Daci and Daci, a café recommended to us.
It was worth the experience, although it took some fortitude to fit it in after such a large lunch. I suspect before we go back for a second visit, yes, it was that good, we will make sure we are less full of lunch first. The cake I had was delicious but very filling. The coffee? Excellent.
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Thrills, Spills, and just a dash of Romance 