Tasmania: Hobart
The heat wave and bushfires that have swept across much of mainland Australia seemed poised to engulf Hobart when we arrived hot and sweaty in late December. We have gone from being in our winter jackets to practically cavorting in our soaked undies in less than 24 hours.
But forget laundry: our road trip is now at an end and we have no time standing over a multifunction washing machine and figuring out how to work it. Tasmania’s capital has the best museums, the best restaurants, the best-looking men and women, and we were excited to be in the city after weeks of communing with wallabies and wombats.
We stayed in the forebodingly-named Macquarie Manor, a beautiful Edwardian building smack-bang in the middle of this fine-looking city. I had no idea at the time that the manor once belonged to a surgeon called Dr Bright, who performed operations in its rooms — but the place still creeped me out with its dark, quiet hallways and groaning floorboards.
Like most of the buildings in Hobart, it was constructed in the 19th century by convicts, who were apparently more skilled in construction than they were in petty crime.
We didn’t witness any strange apparitions during our time there, but we did see some pretty interesting sights. Here are some attractions they say you shouldn’t miss and what I thought about them:
Constitution Dock
This was once Tasmania’s lifeline to the world. Today, the historic warehouses that line the dock are now home to touristy seafood restaurants selling freshly caught abalone. Our boys stared enviously as children aimed for sea gulls perched atop fishing boats with their water guns while we stared enviously at all the food we couldn’t order because the husband had high cholesterol.
Ah, the joys of middle-age maladies.
Unless your kids love tempting death by running dangerously close to the water’s edge like mine, it is a relaxing stroll to the marina where a flotilla of sleek yachts from the Sydney To Hobart Yacht Race are parked.
The race is an annual tradition held on Boxing Day, and televised on gigantic screens close by. When the sun sets, the whole area transforms into a large dance floor, with a great live band and plenty of children and adults staying up way past their bedtime to shake their booty like they were the second coming of Shakira.
A little further along, you’ll see Hobart’s strong ties with Antarctica, and the first Australian ever to set foot on polar ice, Louis Bernacchi. You won’t miss the Bernacci Tribute Sculptures while you’re here — it shows Bernacci embarking on one of his long and gruelling expeditions with his dog, which our 3-year-old insists on mounting for a picture.
Battery Point
We showed up in the oldest and most genteel neighborhoods in Hobart but it was deader than MySpace and Friendster in the new millennia.
The place might thrill Instagrammers, who would find joy in trampling on the private lawns of Hobart’s rich and famous for pictures, but not two little boys who were actively on the lookout for some action.
They spied a colorful pirate ship playground in Princes’ Park not five minutes into our little adventure, and our plans to explore the neighborhood’s supposedly buzzing cafe scene vanished like the SS Titanic on a desolate wintry evening.
We did, however, manage to have dinner at the Blue Eye Seafood Restaurant. The place prides itself on dishing out local ingredients, including octopus and scallops caught just off the coast and atlantic salmon from a nearby farm. The dishes were simple but big on flavors and I will stop now before I start sounding like one of the godawful food writers in a Singaporean food blog.
Salamanca Place
The handsome cluster of sandstone warehouses that make up this historic square was once a stomping ground for sailors, whalers and workmen, but today, it’s tourists who fill up its cafes, art galleries and bookstores.
My favorite store, however, is The Faerie Shop, because its unapologetically pink and glittery interior is capable of making even the most confident straight man nervous.
Every Saturday, this place transforms into the most visited place in Tasmania — the Salamanca Market. We’ve been to several markets in Australia, but this one trumps them all simply because of its size and diverse mix of stalls. This was not just the place to buy local craft and watch buskers in action, but also stuff your face with the best local produce. We skipped the wallaby burrito for mussels and Vietnamese pho and did not regret one bit.
Royal Tasmanian Botanical Gardens
Without knowing it, we chose the hottest day of the year to go for a walk in the gardens. Passing a bushfire along the way should’ve been warning enough for us not to proceed but the Bear Grylls in us could not resist the temptation of an adventure, so we pressed on in the inhumane weather — a scorching 45°C degrees, to be exact.
The highlight here is Australia’s one and only Subantartic Plant House but that was sealed as tightly as Jho Low’s secret money vault for the day to keep the plants from wilting.
We moseyed among some Huon pine trees — a wonderfully fragrant tree that’s native to Tasmania — and stumpy colorful cactuses of the fascinating Resilient Garden as the sun progressively bakes us into resilient Gingerbread people.
We hadn’t expected to be chewing on some of these flowers when we had lunch at Succulent, the garden’s only restaurant. The view from here was spectacular and the service, friendly, so we were happy to overlook the bland food. We also got complimentary ice cream, but it mostly melted into a sad puddle before it even arrived at our table.
MONA
Perched on the banks of the river Derwent, the Museum of Old and New Art is designed to enthrall. After making his fortunes through gambling, its owner David Wash built MONA as a paen to sex and death.
This was reason enough for me to drag the kids to this four-story, steel-clad behemoth, and watch their innocence die as we trundled Walsh’s eclectic private collection, which consisted of two skeletons fornicating and floral arrangements composed of animal body parts, amongst others.
Actually, they children had no idea what they were looking at most of the time but still loved every minute of it.
Our collective favorite was, hands down, the Cloaca, an art-machine hybrid that functions as a real digestive tract. Visitors gather around to watch it eat and shit, twice a day. We were there to catch a pooping session, and the whole process was strangely compelling (I’ll leave that part up to your imagination).
All of this made us hungry and so we went to Faro Bar & Restaurant. Featuring floor-to-ceiling views of the Derwent River, this magnificently designed eatery bordered on the pretentious, serving up ridiculously tiny tapas-style dishes and cocktails such as the pig’s eye margarita to a fashionable — and financially flushed — lunch crowd. Suspended in the middle is James Turell’s gigantic white globe — it’s actually an art installation you can pre-book to enter.
We didn’t manage to explore all of MONA — it’s that big! — but I thoroughly enjoyed myself even though I’m the type of person who usually snorts and rolls her eyes at modern art (especially Mark Rothko and Tracy Emin ugh).
The Taste of Tasmania Festival
For one week each year, dozens of food and drink vendors, street performers and culinary experts take over to eat, drink and make merry like it’s the last day on earth. That’s essentially The Taste is about and why we’ve booked a trip to these parts in December. (It turned out The Taste had to be called off 1 out of the 3 days that we were there due to what the authorities called “freak weather”).
We visited on a particularly lively afternoon. While most of the feasting happened inside the tents, there was plenty of action going on outside. Today, a bunch of children were gathered around a circular stage, watching a busker humiliate his costar — the husband.
Inside the tent, we were confronted by food — littering the tables, heaped upon a platter, displayed provocatively in refrigerated cases.
Thankfully, none of these have fish or chips in the same sentence (Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore!). We had no specific strategy and snacked on whatever looked sexy — which in this case, turned out to be fiery sea urchin dumplings to spiced lamb sausages to blue cheese pizza.
We ended up having a mediocre dinner in some Korean restaurant because I was not used to having to elbow another visitor aside for a free table. Herb-encrusted lamb chops with a side of aggro? I’d rather have a soggy bibimbap and kimchi cold enough to freeze my heart, thanks.
Bonorong Wildlife Sanctuary
We were introduced to juvenile wombat, Jasper, in Bonorong. His mother was killed in car accident and a samaritan discovered him — tiny and helpless but alive — nestled inside her pouch. He was then brought to Bonorong, a wildlife sanctuary dedicated to rehabilitating native animals and his job now consists of educating hordes of tourists on why they should drive extra carefully on Tasman roads.
As eager as I was to cuddle the little guy and tell him that not all humans were bastards (only most of them), there were other animals waiting for us, including Randall and Luigi the echidnas and Mister-whatsisname the koala, who was full from his eucalyptus meal and sleeping off the high in a low-hanging branch.
It was the kangaroo enclosure, however, that got our pulses racing. Dozens of kangaroos were living their best life here, lolling on a poop-covered grassy plain and getting hand fed and groped by tourists without their consent. Just as the kids and I got into the groove of feeding Skippy, we heard an ominous low rumble. The kangaroos seemed to have heard it too, because each and every one of them were suddenly on their hind legs.
Then we all saw it.
A dust storm — a mini tornado composed of sand and extremely hot air — was heading our way. The kangaroos bounded for safety while we stood there, helpless, squeezing our eyes shut and waiting for its impending arrival. It swept over us in a matter of seconds, dislodging a few hats and whipping sand in our faces, as if to say, HERE, this is for all the CO2 you’ve generated and all the meat you’ve consumed on this trip.
Nature’s wrath.
Thankfully, the storm brought no blazing inferno with it — like it did in so many other parts of Australia at the time. It passed over us like a baptism of fire and went as quickly as it arrived. As I gasped for air and brushed the fine grains of dirt out of my hair and eyelashes, I wondered if the climate change deniers were aware of any of this. And if they were, did they think all of what we’ve experienced was merely a strange hiccup in the weather?
I looked at Skippy, cowering by their shed, and then at my dazed children. When our luck runs out, I’d like to be by their side, in an island like Tasmania, thanking God that I was privileged enough to witness it all before it goes to shit.
STAY
Macquarie Manor Affordable accommodation in a historic (and albeit slightly creepy) mansion just a 5 to 10 minute stroll away from historic Salamanca. Bedrooms are a little tired but spacious, the owner’s a pleasant chap and free breakfast is provided. $$
TIPS
- There are direct connections to Hobart from most major cities in Australia. If you have a limited time in Tasmania, base yourself here.
- For a dose of nature, there are a number of tours that depart from the city, including the highly-recommended Pennicott Wilderness Tours (it’s hard to miss their HQ on Constitution Dock). You can also hire a car for one very long day trip to the Tasman Peninsula.
- Salamanca Market is open every Saturday, from 8.30am to 3pm. Hobart also has a twilight market from October to March, from 4.30pm to 9pm.
- The Taste Of Tasmania is a free-seating festival and usually runs from the end of December to the first few days of January. Festival-goers who want a guaranteed seating however, have to book their VIP seats on the Taste’s website beforehand. As there is a lot of uncertainty due to the ongoing pandemic, please check https://www.thetasteoftasmania.com.au/ for updates on this year’s festival.
- Hotel prices rise steeply during major festivals in Hobart like The Taste. It is best to reserve your lodging several months in advance too, since most of the good hotels are booked out months before this highly-anticipated year-end festival!
- You can get to MONA by car, bus or ferry. We drove our car, but heard great things about the high-speed catamarans (although it is not suitable for those who are unable to walk the 99 steps up to the museum). Tickets ($23) are priced similarly for one-way or return, but if you do snag a seat in the posh pit ($58), you’ll have access to the boat’s private lounge, free drinks and food on your 25 minute journey to the museum. Strange rule to take note of: families with kids need to splurge for the posh pit.
- You can spend a whole day in MONA. There are several onsite restaurants — and while most are catered to adults, there is a burger bar called Dubsy’s kids will love. Book in advance as the museum can get busy on certain days. There is also a big trampoline outside if your kids get bored.
