Pulp Mill Controversy

One of the hottest topics in Tasmania is the proposed construction of a pulp mill in the north. Almost everyone is opposed to the idea, excepting people involved in the industry. Crucially, the government supports the mill. In fact, both state and federal governments have given the green light.

Gunns is the company proposing this. I checked on their website in an attempt to get some semblance of a balanced view. The section on the pulp mill boldly proclaims, “the world’s greenest pulp mill.” I could hardly believe my eyes at that. My information on the anti-pulp mill side comes from average Tasmanians, who can recite a litany of complaints. The biggest one is that the pulp mill will be an environmental disaster.

To start with, hardly anyone is convinced that Gunns cares about sustainability. Few people like the idea of chopping down Tasmania’s forests for pulp. This is already happening on quite a large scale, it seems, but the wood chips are currently being exported to Japan. (I’m told the Japanese make a killing off this, because they insist on low prices for the wood chips and then sell paper at a high profit. However, retirement funds are invested in this, so Tasmania can’t just stop easily. ) Many cars have a bumper sticker proclaiming “Save Tassie’s Forests!” or “Vote Green.”

The concerns don’t stop there. The proposal is for a mill that would pump polluted water into the Bass Strait, which separates Tasmania from mainland Australia. Gunns says the influence of toxins is “negligible” but the general consensus is that introducing toxins into the ocean and food chain is a lousy idea. Further concerns are over air quality, harm to endangered animals, and the vast amount of water needed. Environmental issues aside, other people are upset that the state government will be spending money on the infrastructure.

Thousands of people have participated in protests. There was even a student protest day here in Hobart, and the impression I gathered is that students were allowed to leave school for the event. I recently heard a news report that a poll was taken on what Tasmanians think should be the priority for government spending. A mere 1% replied the pulp mill, and a leader of the anti-pulp mill movement went on record as being surprised it was that high.

Here I must admit that I was not impressed with the pulp mill proponents in a television news report because they tried to paint peaceful protesters as terrorists. There was the footage of protesters with signs, not even saying anything. Yes, they weren’t moving when asked, but the man who said, “We have laws against terrorism” seemed ridiculous to me. Talk of creating jobs and economic growth is legitimate, but resorting to a brazen attempt to classify people who disagree with you as terrorists – a word with strong connotations and the ability to raise fear – is dodgy. (“Dodgy” is an Australian word that fits well here. It means questionable, with an implication of deliberate misuse.)

At this point it would be natural to wonder how the pulp mill ever got off the ground. This is the story I was told: the government was working on the review process, which involved looking at the environmental impact among other things. The president of Gunns did not like how long the review process was taking, so he called up his friend the premier. (The role of premier is more or less like a governor in the US.) The premier therefore drafted a new, shorter review process which omitted aspects of the original.

Following this, a letter to the editor appeared in the Mercury, Hobart’s newspaper. The author said that they applied for permission to put an addition on their house, but the Hobart City Council was taking a long time approving it. “Maybe,” the frustrated homeowner continued, “I should ring up the premier and see if he can speed things up.”

If this pulp mill goes ahead, it will be against the wishes of nearly all Tasmanians. Whether or not democracy and environmentalism can win remains to be seen.

Salamanca Market

Every Saturday in Hobart, an area usually serving as a road and parking lot is filled with merchants and customers coming out for the Salamanca Market. Salamanca is the name of the area, although why it’s named after a Spanish city I’ve not determined. In any case, the market is really not to be missed should you happen to find yourself in Hobart. According to the official website, over 300 vendors are at the Salamanca Market.

Today is a fine sunny day, perfect for perusing the market. About a third of my fellow passengers on the bus got off as well. I’ve been told that Salamanca Market is not just for tourists, although there is a cheaper market in a more distant suburb on Sundays that attracts a higher percentage of locals. (Every one of my four travel guides mentioned Salamanca Market. Not one mentioned this other market, which I haven’t been to.) As with my previous visits, it was rather crowded. Apparently the best time to beat the crowds is as soon as the stalls are open at 8:30, but I’d rather maneuver through crowds than get up that early on a Saturday.

Salamanca Market is a feast for the senses. There’s always live music of varying quality. When I arrived a band from South America was setting up. They also had CDs for sale with “music from the Andes,” and I thought they were quite good. Most of the musicians I’ve seen are solo acts. It seems to me that some musically inclined Hobart youth take to Salamanca in the hopes of earning some cash. I was particularly impressed with the boy – he looked about 12 – who was playing a keyboard and harmonica at the same time. To do this the harmonica was attached to a stand around his neck. He seemed to favor Elton John music, and did a good job with it. I dropped a couple of coins in his hat.

As you walk past food vendors, delicious aromas tempt you. There are sausages, desserts, crepes, mushroom tempura, coffee, tea, and juice. The fine artisan ice cream drew me in, and I opted for a scoop of spiced apple and blackberry. It was excellent, particularly because the blackberry wasn’t pureed beyond what was needed to work it in ice cream.

Up on a box stood a man dressed in seventeenth-century style clothes, covered in gray paint from head to toe and at work as a living statue. Intrigued, I looked closed and noticed that the lid of his donation box said “Abel Tasman 1603-1659.” Tasman, a Dutch mariner, was the first European to discover Tasmania. (This, incidentally, was almost 130 years before Captain Cook landed in eastern Australia. Tasmanians are therefore less enamored of Captain Cook than people in, say, Sydney; they are much bigger fans of Tasman.) This ‘Abel Tasman’ seemed to be doing the best of anyone as far as tips went. Of course, he made it fun to tip. When I dropped fifty cents in the box, he slowly tipped his hat.

While a few people sell traditional tourist goods, most of the vendors at Salamanca are selling their own products. The best price I’ve seen for the renowned Tasmanian leatherwood honey was at a stall here. It’s good honey, too. Others sell candy (“lollies” is the term here) and two stalls sell baked goods. Produce is also popular. The Hmong are known for their excellent vegetables; this community of refugees from Laos introduced some Asian vegetables to Tasmania in the 1970s. Not feeling very adventurous about vegetables this morning, I just got snow peas, but I’ll have to try their bok choy sometime. Other farmers sell many apple varieties, certified organic produce, and their own jams.

There are some very talented craftspeople who sell their work at Salamanca Market. Woodworking is the most common. Tasmania has some unique and/or rare trees that make lovely wood crafts. (I will write about the conservation vs. forestry issue soon, because that is another topic entirely.) Huon pine, which grows nowhere else, is particularly prized; other featured timbers are myrtle, celery top pine, southern sassafras, blackwood, and leatherwood. None of this comes particularly cheap, but there are beautiful products made out of them. I am especially fond of the cheese boards with wood-handled cheese knives.

One vendor has photo albums between old Tasmanian license plates. Several sell jewelry of various types, from beads to coral to handmade glass. There are metal sculptures, earthy pieces of pottery, 100% Australian sheepskin slippers, wool sweaters, and coin purses made of kangaroo fur. You can buy a boomerang, either a cheap tourist version or one actually made by Aborigines. The authentic boomerangs make a wonderful, classy souvenir, and I found one reasonably priced. (It also has the benefit of providing employment for Australia’s woefully underemployed Aboriginal people.) Tasmania has the largest lavender field in the southern hemisphere, and lavender products are for sale at Salamanca Market, as are handmade soaps and natural beauty products. Just walking along and looking at everything is a wonderful experience. However, I find that the occasional purchase is more fun!

Promite

Trying new food, to me, is an important part of experiencing Australia. Most of the time this has been enjoyable. I liked eating fresh figs and blueberry cinnamon ice cream. Unsurprisingly, however, it’s not always so good. Promite falls memorably into this category.

Promite is a brand-name vegetable extract spread, as opposed to the more famous Vegemite, which is a yeast extract spread. Apparently there is some polarization among Australians over which one is superior. Promite is a black spread that does not look very appetizing, but some Australians insist that it’s delicious if you put just a little bit on bread. (The rest prefer Vegemite.) So I cautiously dabbed some on a sliver of buttered toast.

Suppose for a minute that you were to get a bit of warm road tar, generously salted, and put it on perfectly good toast. That’s what Promite tastes like. All thoughts of being polite about my opinion flew out the window as my eyes grew large in alarm. It was bitter and how anyone could consider it edible is quite beyond me. I did manage to swallow the bite, and quickly reached for my glass of milk.

After gulping milk in a desperate attempt to wash away the taste, I looked at the rest of my toast sliver. I should’ve known something that looked like toxic waste sludge would taste the same. “That’s hideous!” I exclaimed as soon as I recovered the ability to speak.

Fortunately the Australian who provided the Promite was amused rather than offended. His American girlfriend doesn’t like it either, and she remarked that it is too salty. I thought that was its most redeeming virtue, since the salt provided a small measure of distraction from the horrifying taste.

I haven’t yet worked up the nerve to try Vegemite.