Port Arthur

Before I can describe Port Arthur, I need to outline a bit of history. Industrialization in Great Britain resulted in increased crime for multiple reasons. As farms consolidated and less agricultural jobs were available, people crowded into growing cities looking for work. Even if they could find work the wages were very low. Some people resorted to stealing to eat; others turned to alcohol and opium to numb the misery of their lives. With jails jam-packed, the British transported criminals to their American colonies, relieving the pressure on jails while providing labor in America. Of course, that ended with the American Revolution, and the British had to look elsewhere. Meanwhile, industrialization picked up its pace and the jails were getting so full that convicts were kept in old unseaworthy ships in the River Thames.

Australia was strategically located in the Pacific relatively near Britain’s prized colonial possession, India, and there were high hopes for some Australian natural resources, so in 1788 the British founded Sydney as a prison colony. In 1803 Van Diemen’s Land (today known as Tasmania) was founded as a place to send convicts who reoffended.

Now we jump ahead in this whirlwind history to 1833, when a small timber station on a peninsula in southeastern Van Diemen’s Land came to the attention of the Lieutenant Governor, George Arthur. He needed a place to send convicts who continued to commit crimes. The last one, Macquarie Harbor on the west coast, had closed because it was too hard to get to and an unacceptable amount of ships were being lost. Also, convicts escaped too easily.

This small timber station had neither of those problems. If the weather was favorable, it was only an 8 to 10 hour journey from the capital, Hobart, by sea. The peninsula was almost completely surrounded by water; there was only a tiny strip of land to guard. Some convicts might try to escape by sea, but sharks frequented the area, providing a natural deterrent. (Also deterring sea escapes was the fact that in this time period, despite building an empire based on the strength of their navy, the British tended not to be very good swimmers. As one of the Port Arthur tour guides observed, “They spent so much time on the water but they were never in it.”)

Lieutenant Governor Arthur decided to name this new convict station Port Arthur, after himself. In addition to armed guards, a line of dogs was chained across Eaglehawk Neck, the only way out by land, and a few were put out on rafts in the water. Since Port Arthur was where male repeat offenders were sent, there wasn’t an emphasis on reform; the focus was squarely on punishment. The men were worked extremely hard. There were also heavy chains, whippings and solitary confinement on bread and water rations for further punishment.

First the men had to build barracks, then other buildings as needed. Industry was also important, as Port Arthur was ideally going to pay for itself. Timber was a large industry. The large trees around Port Arthur were chopped down by convicts, and then hauled on the shoulders of the men to be cut into useful timber. (Occasionally a tree-felling accident would kill one of the men.) What wasn’t used at Port Arthur was sent to Hobart where the government could use it. Convicts also cut the soft sandstone around Port Arthur and made bricks; these were used to make more sturdy buildings on the site.

With timber all around, a nice deep harbor, and free labor, it made sense to start a dockyard. This opened in 1834, repairing and building ships. While the work was hard – men often spent most of the day partially in the water – it was also considered a promotion because it gave the men a little more control over their lives and also a useful skill. The boats made at Port Arthur were considered as good as any made elsewhere. However, those other boat makers complained about the Port Arthur dockyard, as they found it hard to compete with a place where the workers didn’t have to be paid. As transportation began to decline there was less labor in any case, and the dockyard closed in 1848, although repairs were still made. Before closing, the convicts made 16 large ships and over 150 smaller open boats. You can still see the largest slip from which the ships were launched, although in my opinion it’s sullied by a strange twisting metal “artist’s interpretation of a ship.” That sculpture is my one quibble at Port Arthur; I am firmly against sticking post-modern artistic interpretations in the middle of genuine historic sites.

The last convicts were transported to Tasmania in 1853, and Port Arthur closed in 1877. It was parceled out and sold. Since Port Arthur had all sorts of unpleasant connotations, the inhabitants changed the town’s name to Carnarvon, after the then-current Secretary of State for the Colonies. The site was left to fall apart, although tours were soon operating, bringing curious tourists to see the infamous Port Arthur. Souvenirs were taken by many visitors, as one might expect. Recognizing the importance of the site, the government began buying it back in the 1920s, a process that took until 1949, and the name was changed back to Port Arthur.

Meanwhile, most of the buildings were no more than ruins. This appealed to late Victorians, who loved a good ruin but had few around them in Australia. A few of the structures, especially the military barracks, had been demolished and the bricks sold off. The decay was further aided by a series of fires. The first gutted the church; it started when local residents tried to burn some leaves and the fire got out of control. Then in 1895 and 1897 bushfires further ravaged most of the other buildings.

I spent the better part of two days at Port Arthur before doing research in their Resource Room on the few Americans who were sent there. It is truly an incredible place, and I think the Port Arthur Historic Site Management Authority is to be commended for their excellent work in presenting a difficult and complex subject with sensitivity and without descending into playacting for tourists.

Port Arthur offers different tour packages which include various extras. I never considered anything but the Gold Experience ticket which included everything: an introductory walking tour, the audio tour (sadly, I didn’t get to finish it because my battery died and there were no more units left, but this was informative and, I thought, well-done), a tour of Isle of the Dead, a tour of Point Puer, plus vouchers for morning tea, lunch, and afternoon tea. I was extremely glad I got that package.

To be continued…

Midwinter Solstice Party

Tonight is the longest night of the year, with a 4:43 pm sunset (according to Geoscience Australia) and in Hobart that means a party. It’s time for the Antarctic Midwinter Festival 2008. This stretches out over several days, but tonight was the Midwinter Solstice Party.

The evening started with the March of the Snow Petrels, a parade of people carrying large homemade lanterns in the shape of birds. There were standing, sitting, and flying birds as well as eggs, ranging in size from a foot long and six inches high to a foot long and three feet high. (The largest looked like penguins and not at all what came up when I typed “snow petrel” into Google image search. Snow petrels are pure white, pigeon-sized birds.) All of these were lit by candles placed inside, and the parade was led by a troop of musicians. Coming down the dark street, the line of softly glowing birds was enchanting.

Then the crowd, following the large bird-shaped lanterns, moved into Salamanca Square, where a Latin American music band began to play. I had a very Australian dinner from a bakery while there: chicken curry pie. Australians are very fond of their pies as meals. They come in all sorts of varieties, although the standard beef and vegetable pie is always popular. I have read, and been told, that the international influence in Australian cuisine has only been going on for about twenty years or so, but I think that the curried chicken pie is a good example of that. Today’s Australians do like their Asian dishes, or at least Asian-influenced dishes, but they still like a good pie, so someone decided to combine the two into curried chicken pie. I thought it was tasty.

After dinner I went back out and listened to the music for another twenty minutes or so, until it was time for the fire dancing. This was performed by two young women from Melbourne who were very good. Now, I don’t like too many lit candles all at once unless they’re safely tucked in bowls, and at one point these two were using large rings lit in five places as hula hoops! The crowd loved it, and it looked like the performers enjoyed themselves as well. I had a hard time seeing this, because there were a lot of people clustered around and, as usual, most of them were taller than I am. However, I thoroughly enjoyed what I did see.

From fire we went to ice, as the other event was an ice sculpture. It was a long process, but I watched it with interest because I’ve seen finished ice sculptures but I’ve never seen one being made. The artist wouldn’t tell us what it was until someone guessed, and it was over an hour before anyone did. He started with two large rectangles of ice fused together, then moved to a cylindrical shape with extra ice removed from the middle, which was then cut in half. It wasn’t until he started chipping certain sections of the halves away that someone said, “It’s an hourglass!” Indeed it was, as we saw when the two halves were fused back together, with some snow inside. (The snow was saved from when he shaved the ice, because there certainly wasn’t any on the ground!) It was interesting to watch the progress, and the finished product was admirable.

While watching the ice sculpture progress I amused myself by listening to everyone around me talk about how cold it was. “It’s freezing!” some of them would say. It was certainly not freezing; it was noticeable that the ice was getting softer as the sculptor chipped away at it. It couldn’t have been below 40 degrees Fahrenheit, and when I asked someone what they thought it was, they said the equivalent to 45 degrees Fahrenheit! I had tucked my gloves and fleece earband into my purse because the advertisements said to “bundle up.” I didn’t need them. Being a Mainer born and raised, I thought it was pretty warm for winter. There are still some roses blooming, even!

Nevertheless, while I didn’t feel very Antarctic, I enjoyed the Midwinter Solstice Party. It was a fun way to spend a Saturday evening, and it was all free as well.

Plus, we start getting more daylight after this!

Blue Mountains

While in Sydney I took a day trip to the Blue Mountains. About 30 miles west of Sydney, this geological wonder is misnamed. It’s really more a complex series of gorges than a mountain range. Nonetheless it’s stunning, but I’ll get to that in due time.

It was 25 years before early settlers managed to cross the Blue Mountains; tourists today have a bewildering number of options. I selected OzTrek, a tour company highly recommended by one of my tour books. There were about 22 of us, plus the tour guide, and we headed west in a van.

We took a detour to drive through the 2000 Olympic grounds. There I learned that the Olympic Village, temporarily home to over 10,000 athletes plus their trainers, became another suburb of Sydney after the Games were over. Some 6,000 Australians moved in.

Then it was on to the Blue Mountains, and here is an excellent time to say how glad I was not to be driving! At one point our tour guide was navigating the van around steep hairpin curves, one after another. It was good to be in a passenger’s seat. However, on the other side of all these hairpin curves we found a mob of kangaroos. (While Australians use “mob” frequently for groups and it has no sinister mafia connotations, “mob” is also the technical term for a group of kangaroos.) These were Eastern Grey Kangaroos, and they were lounging in the sun without a care in the world. I’d not seen kangaroos yet, because there aren’t as many in Tasmania. They have such funny little hands (or paws, but they really look more like hands.) One of them had a bulge, our guide pointed out, so there was a joey in her pouch, but its head wasn’t out for us to see.

This was in a national park, so feeding the roos isn’t allowed. However, I suspect they get a lot of tourists gawking at them, and as long as we were 20-25 feet away they weren’t bothered by us in the least. Our guide said that campers and tourists benefit the kangaroos because “a dingo isn’t going to run through your legs to attack them.” So we watched and took pictures as they grazed and groomed themselves. The grass where they were was a prime example of “marsupial lawn.” You’d think somebody mowed it, but that’s the kangaroos, wallabies, and other “hoppies” keeping it down. They’re much cuter than traditional lawn mowers.

We drove a bit further and got out for our first walk. There were bushwalks with OzTrek, which I quite liked. It was a lovely day with clear blue sky; we couldn’t have asked for better weather. Suddenly the Blue Mountains were stretched out before me: undulating gorges, heavily treed, with sandstone edges gleaming in the morning sun. The blue haze got thicker the farther I looked out, slowly melting the sharpness into blue. This effect is from the evaporation of eucalyptus oil.

Since it was a long way down and the ledge path was narrow, I appreciated the nice solid metal railing. (Nevertheless, for multiple reasons, this wouldn’t be a good excursion for young children.) As our group was taking in the delightful view, another tour group came huffing and puffing up. They had climbed all the way down and walked back up. My group had just walked to a nice lookout, and it was clearly steep enough that I didn’t want to trudge all the way down and, worse, back up! I wasn’t at all jealous of the panting, exhausted other tourists. Breathing easily, a few of us in my group commented on how the trees rather looked like broccoli.

We then retraced our steps, piled back into the van, and headed to Katoomba. Katoomba is one of the major towns in the area, and we had a lunch break there. From Katoomba it was a short drive to Echo Point, where the famous Three Sisters rock formation is seen from an angle you’re likely to find in most of the pictures of them. I quite liked the Three Sisters but noticed a smaller, fourth rock; it looked like one of the sisters had a baby. The gorge system, with small mountains or random rock formations, continued for kilometers until it was consumed by the blue haze. I drank in the beauty.

At this point we had a few different options for a bushwalk. I chose the walk most of the group did, which was a good walk down the Furber Steps, and then got a ticket to ride the Scenic Railway back up. It was a delightful walk through a cool rainforest and we got to admire Wentworth Falls from several angles. Our guide told us about a spot where you can see a man’s face in a rock with water cascading down. He was of the opinion that it was the most realistic rock face anywhere. (I, personally, think that New Hampshire’s Old Man in the Mountain was, until it crumbled, more realistic, but I kept that to myself.) Being a cool rainforest, there was a lot of water – water flowing in streams, water in the humid air, water cascading in waterfalls and making muddy spots along the path. Where the first bushwalk had smelled slightly tangy, this one smelled damp and earthy.

Eventually, after some very steep stairs, we reached the Scenic Railway, which is the world’s steepest. Riding it was a fun, if short, experience. The seats weren’t very comfortable, but I think a lot of that was because I’m so short I couldn’t get on the neckrest properly. At one point we went through a tunnel, and of course were at an incredible angle, so this is clearly not for the unadventurous.

The Scenic Railway isn’t part of Blue Mountains National Park. This is important because it means they let you feed the birds. When we disembarked, there by the platform was a large hanging birdfeeder with several king parrots and a couple of blue rosellas. The attendant asked if we’d like the opportunity to feed the birds. I was about to unzip my purse, figuring that the birdseed would be at least fifty cents, when he pulled a dustbin of birdseed out and offered everyone a handful. Australians are big fans of inclusive prices, and I suppose since it was $10 for a one-way ticket they could afford the birdseed. Later, our guide expressed disapproval of feeding the birds, because the birds might live in the national park. I, personally, was delighted. Now, I took the attendant’s remark that they were wild birds with a grain of salt. They’re wild in the sense that they don’t live in cages, yes, but tame enough to know where the tourists will reliably be feeding them.

The rosellas didn’t like eating out of hands and preferred the bird feeder or seed spilled on the platform, but the king parrots would happily eat out of anyone’s hand. Some would perch on your hand, but I fed a female who didn’t stay on my hand long. Feeling sympathetic, I moved my hand close to the railing and she resumed her meal. Then a male came over, and I was treated to having two gorgeous parrots eating out of my hand at the same time. King parrots have green bodies with red heads; the males have much more red. The attendant informed me that when two will eat out of one person’s hand they are a mated pair. Otherwise, as some other parrots thoughtfully demonstrated, they were territorial.

I only tore myself away from the parrots because I was afraid of holding up the group (I didn’t.) We then headed to one more stop, a nice lookout. The sandstone looked warmer bathed in the fading afternoon light, and it highlighted a rock feature known as Boar’s Head. “You Europeans with your dragon stories will probably say it looks like a dragon,” noted our guide. I could see a boar, but it did look more reptilian. In the end I decided it looked most like a crocodile, which seemed fitting because Australia has plenty of the creatures.

On the way back we saw flocks of white cockatoos, which are active at dusk. In one yard I saw a single tree that must have had close to twenty! The darkness put an end to my bird watching. As I settled in for the ride back to Sydney, I marveled again at how blessed I am to be here and have the opportunity to see and do so many wonderful things.

Sydney

I recently returned from a wonderful six-night trip to Sydney. Before I enthuse about the vacation, however, I’m going to share a very important lesson I learned: hotel ratings are not the same in Australia as they are in the US! I used the internet to reserve a room in the Westend Sydney. When I arrived, I found a nightmare. There was no top sheet, just a less-than-squeaky-clean comforter; the pillowcases were so threadbare they were nearly nonexistent, soap and towels were missing altogether, and the curtain was broken so it didn’t cover the whole window. Therefore I had to walk around and the third hotel I tried had an available room. This was the Marque Sydney, where I was generally happy. Now, my original hotel had been rated three stars. My immediate thought was, ‘If this is three stars, one star must come with complimentary rats.’ I was later told by the woman who owns the house where I’m renting a room that three stars in Australia is risky. It never occurred to me that hotel rating systems might be different, and I fully expected an average but livable room as I would anticipate at home.

That aside, I truly enjoyed Sydney. Less than 48 hours before leaving Hobart for Sydney I impulsively bought a ticket to see the Australian Ballet at the Sydney Opera House, and I’m very glad I did. It was one of my better impulse purchases. Plus, the night that I wanted to go featured a Youth Under 27 discount, so I was able to get a good seat for the price of a mediocre seat. The performance was a Jerome Robbins tribute. I had never heard of Jerome Robbins, but it turns out he choreographed West Side Story. He also choreographed a number of ballet pieces, and the Australian Ballet was performing four of them.

It was a bit surreal to be inside the Sydney Opera House. This was the evening of my fifth day in Sydney, so I’d been gazing at the outside for some time. (And photographing it. I was not alone in noticing that there’s a strange phenomenon that draws cameras towards the Sydney Opera House like some kind of magnet. Almost anywhere with a good view of it has tourists with cameras out.) Being inside was another matter altogether. I’ve read that the acoustics aren’t nearly as impressive as the outside. This didn’t strike me as an issue in the ballet, although I must confess that even if it were I probably wouldn’t have noticed. While in the foyer before the show began I was offered a canapé by a neatly dressed waiter. That, for me, was one of the most surreal moments I’ve had in Australia. After all, I’m a small-town girl and have never lived anywhere but Maine until now. Then there I was, nibbling a canapé in the Sydney Opera House.

Each piece got better than the last in my opinion. The last, “The Concert,” was particularly amusing. A pianist came out, and slowly dancers came out as an audience. However, his music couldn’t hold their attention. Several whimsical scenes then happened. According to the program, “The Concert” sprung from the admission that, while attending a performance, audience members’ minds wander. Interestingly enough, I was so entertained by “The Concert” that my mind hardly wandered at all! It ended with the dancers flitting around with butterfly wings. Fed up, the pianist abandoned his music and chased the dancers with a giant butterfly net. It sounds absurd, but it was beautifully done and highly engrossing.

Another highlight of my trip was the Sydney Aquarium. I read nothing but good things in my tour books, and wasn’t disappointed. It’s divided into four sections: Freshwater Rivers, Saltwater Rivers, Southern Oceans, and Northern Oceans. After buying my ticket, I walked through the enormous metal shark mouth and entered, guidebook in hand. The very first exhibit was the platypus. A freshwater creature, it was far more adorable than I anticipated. (There may have been another, but only one was out.) It was about a foot long – smaller than the beaver-sized animal I’d imagined, and this one particularly liked its hollow log. The first I saw of the platypus was its beak inching out of the log. As I was quite captivated, I stayed for several minutes watching it. The first specimen sent back to Europe was assumed to be a hoax. I can’t say I blame those men who decided the platypus couldn’t possibly be a real animal, with its thick fur, large beak, flat tail, and big webbed feet. This doesn’t sound particularly cute, I’m aware. Nonetheless I thought the platypus was cute. It swam around, poking its beak around for food and going in and out of the hollow log.

I finally pulled myself away from the platypus and on to the rest of the aquarium. After looking at the rest of the Freshwater Rivers tanks, which included a very large Murray cod, it was on to the Saltwater Rivers. The star of this section is the “saltie” – the term Australians use for their saltwater crocodile. This happens to be one of few (two, if I remember correctly) crocodile species that will eat adult humans if given half a chance. A 3-D sign helpfully explained that you can tell crocodiles from alligators because both top and bottom teeth are visible, whereas only top teeth are visible if the creature is an alligator. I, however, prefer to keep my distance and a solid barrier between me and any large, toothed reptile. A sign posted on the upper level, where you can look down at the saltie, hammered the danger home. “DO NOT ENTER,” it read. “If the fall does not kill you, the crocodile will.” I didn’t linger.

For the sake of minds used to the northern hemisphere, remember that the Southern Oceans exhibit here is where the cold water creatures will be. The big draw here is the penguin exhibit. While several species of penguins visit Australia, one breeds here: the fairy penguin, aka little penguin. (In fact, much of their breeding ground is here in Tasmania. I may yet get to see them in the wild.) They’re quite small, perhaps nine or ten inches tall, and charming little birds. When I was looking none were in the water, but the sign informed me that the aquarium keeps a current in their water because they enjoy playing in it. Near the penguins, I meandered over to the Southern Oceans Touch Tank. The employee told us that if you put your finger between the spikes of one creature (I forget what species), the spikes slowly close around your finger. I tried this, and it’s a rather strange sensation.

The final section was the Northern Oceans, where there’s a large Great Barrier Reef tank. This had sharks, rays, at least one turtle, and all kinds of brightly colored fish. When I bought my ticket I paid $5 more for the Shark Explorer glass-bottomed boat ride. The thought crossed my mind that going on a boat over a tank full of sharks could be dangerous. However, I was operating on a “no regrets” motto and decided that if sharks were feasting on visitors the aquarium wouldn’t offer such a ride. Besides, if there was even a remote chance that the insurance company thought sharks might eat people, I was certain the Shark Explorer wouldn’t be allowed. So I zipped up the life jacket and went on, and I’m very glad I did. For about 8 minutes I was in a small 8-person aluminum boat with a glass (or, I suspect, plexiglass) bottom, pulled along a rope by an employee. The view was excellent, and even better when I was given a pinch of fish food to drop overboard. A couple dozen fish came up and put on quite a show. The Shark Explorer has been going on for four and a half months, and that’s how the fish are fed now. I also learned that the aquarium has a special government permit to take fish and shellfish out of Sydney Harbour, which happens on occasion, particularly if the sharks have gotten extra hungry. This, it seems, is the risk of keeping sharks in the same giant tank as fish. None of the sharks below me turned out to be man-eating varieties, which I was glad to hear. (There were no great whites, but those are apparently impossible to keep in captivity because, quite apart from that bothersome man-eating business, they like to dive over 20 yards deep.)

Out of the boat and back on land, so to speak, I found clownfish. It wasn’t hard, because there were little kids squealing, “Nemo! Nemo! NemoNemoNemo!” A large poster showed Nemo’s friends and asked if you could find them. Obviously, the Sydney Aquarium benefits from the interest sparked by “Finding Nemo.” The Great Barrier Reef tank was mesmerizing. Even the homely potato cod was impressive because it was enormous. That one didn’t do much; it just hung there in a little grotto. Sadly, I couldn’t stay in the aquarium forever because by that time, having spent over three hours when the tour guides said to allow two, I was quite hungry.

For the record, I passed on fish and chips in the café.

US Navy Visits Hobart

*I have italicized USS Tarawa as is proper with ships’ names, but the Mercury did not.

Yesterday in the grocery store the Mercury caught my eye. The Mercury is the local newspaper, which calls itself “The Voice of Tasmania.” In large print, the front page proclaimed, “Ship Splurge: Sailors to pump $6m into Tassie.” Curious, I read the first paragraph and learned that the sailors are American. I therefore bought the newspaper and took it home to read the story. Learning about American-Australian interactions is quite interesting and this visit has piqued my attention for that reason.

The USS Tarawa was to arrive Saturday morning with 3,000 sailors and Marines. According to the article, the length of stay will be at least through Monday but hasn’t been confirmed. Monday is International Nurses Day and crew members will visit the Royal Hobart Hospital to visit patients. Unfortunately, the Mercury didn’t explain what the crew of a US warship has to do with International Nurses Day. In any case, the crew will also attend a commemoration ceremony for the Battle of the Coral Sea, “the combined American and Australian naval and air engagement that effectively halted the Japanese southern advance towards Australia.” (Though we rarely hear about it at home, Australia was a major player in the Pacific Theater of WWII. This makes sense, really; Japan was looking for land and resources, two things Australia has in abundance. Northern Australia was bombed during the war.)

The figure of $6 million dollars comes from the US Government, as “the Consulate General of the United States in Perth said yesterday that visits by US Navy Expeditionary Strike Groups brought $2 million a day to local economies.” Because of this, more shops are expected to be open on Sunday. This should work out well, because Captain Brian Luther of the Tarawa said, “Hobart is an exotic city that Tarawa sailors and marines have been looking forward to coming to for months.” Further comments in the article discussed how businesses were encouraged to take advantage of American business.

This was all interesting, but the shock came when I flipped to page two to read the rest of the article. Next to it was an article that began, “Hobart’s sex worker population is likely to double during a visit from the USS Tarawa…”

On second thought, coming from the Navy town of Brunswick, I probably shouldn’t have been so shocked. However, I am generally content to live my sheltered academic life. (And yes, prostitution is legal and regulated in Australia. That I already knew, but the Prostitutes Tasmania spokeswoman’s quote would’ve made it clear anyway.) Apparently prostitutes come from other Australian states for the visits of US ships. I am far from thrilled that this is a major component of Hobart’s interaction with Americans.

There was also a more hopeful article of a couple who met when he came to Hobart in 1999. They got married, and last year, after he left the Navy, moved to Tasmania. It was a sweet story complete with a color photo of the couple with their three-year-old daughter. That, I thought, was more like it.

The Mercury has a section where apparently random people are asked their views on a topic. Yesterday’s question was “Do you enjoy US warship visits to Hobart?” The results were as follows: five people said yes, mostly citing the economic boost; one person didn’t care; another person was from the Gold Coast (on the mainland) but said if she lived here she would; and two people said no, one not caring much and one with the more worrisome “I know it’s good for business but personally I wouldn’t let them into our state. I can’t stand American sailors.” I will confess that after reading that I wondered if he thinks Australian sailors are saints. Being away from home makes me prone to bouts of patriotism.

I’ve been blessed with a splendid living situation here, renting a room in a house. The lovely woman who owns this house said, “My first thought [about the sailors] was, ‘How many babies are they going to leave behind?’” I promptly asked for permission to quote her in this blog post.

This is a totally different look at Americans, and by no stretch can it be considered entirely complimentary. Businesses, however, are happy. I’ve been told by friends that huge amounts of Budweiser are ordered for the occasion of US ship visits, and some young women deliberately dress shabbily so as not to attract unwanted attention (others, sadly, get excited and text message each other when the ship arrives in hopes of having a fling). Happily, other sailors engage in more wholesome pursuits such as bushwalking, and I imagine that restaurants do quite well also.

I wonder if any of the sailors try Vegemite…

The Sunday Tasmanian came out while this post was in the proofreading stage, and the headline declared in big bold letters, “Ahoy, big spenders.” There were also two small articles about the crew enjoying the city, one entitled “Taken By Our Picturesque Port.” Lest anyone think it’s just hometown pride, Hobart really is a beautiful city tucked between the River Derwent and Mount Wellington.

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!