In Tasmania

My first glimpse of Tasmania was a strip of sand running west along the Bass Strait, before it disappeared again behind the puffy white. We flew on for what seemed like forever before the clouds cleared and barren hills became visible. As we got closer to Hobart, more lines of white edged the blue of ocean; I could make out trees against the washed landscape. Pete says that the early landscape painters from the European tradition had a hard time painting Tasmania at first - colour contrasts here are that subtle…

Denbeigh met me at the airport – so wonderful to see a friendly face after such a long journey to this end of the world! Thank you, Denbeigh! A sniffer dog went after my kitbag, which had held apples from Sweden before I was forced to toss them in Sydney…  There are no fruitflies here, nor do they want them here! Both my suitcases arrived safe and sound – although I am still cross that JetStar charged me $10 a kilogram for baggage over 23 kilos – I had 36. I had been assured that I was okay for 2 bags at 25 kilos each through Qantas – but the regional carrier had other ideas. Grrrr…  

 

I was in a bit of a daze – 24 hours of travel will do that to a person… But Denbeigh and Stewart’s house was a welcome port. I’m now firmly ensconced downstairs, where from my window I see the Durwent River and the Tasman Bridge that crosses to the Eastern Shore. Mount Wellington is behind us, where the ever-present communication tower (and phallic symbol) draws your eye wherever you go. (I suppose I’ll learn to ignore it after a while!) We have a spectacular view of the city from up on the hill, and the garden out my back door is a wondrous spring scene, with trees and daffodils in full bloom, and the rhubarb patch thickening up. Three-year-old Maddie’s red swing is there, too. 

My very first night I went to an art exhibition opening at the Carnegie Gallery here in Hobart, where photographer Christl Berg’s images of the shoreline were complemented by Pete Hay’s poetry. His words were a wonderful reminder of why I’m here – capturing what it means to live on the edge, on an island, yet be part of an age where I can travel half-way round the planet and yet feel so much at home.  I think it’s our shared ancestry that makes things feel so similar. The hills, the smells – particularly after it’s rained - the look of some of the vegetation (though not much – the trees really are different!), and the light reflecting off the water remind me of Victoria, BC, where I went to university the first time. Or maybe it’s just that feeling of being away from home at age seventeen to go to university that is haunting me so vividly…

Everyone has been so welcoming, from the people in the School of Geography where I now share an office with an Antarctic scholar to the woman at the bank who so cheerfully opened a new account for me. On my first full day I met the fellow who organized a very popular “Mountain Festival” and a chemist whose specialty is beer. Pete took me for lunch with the homeless, cooked by James Boyce, author of one of my required readings, Van Diemen’s Land: A History. Sharing our table were a couple authors and musicians, and the king of Tasmanian publishing, Ralph Wessman (publisher of Walleah Press and the literary journal, Famous Reporter - in which some of my poetry appeared years ago, thanks to Pete). On my second day I bought a raincoat – totally necessary all weekend… And on my third day Stewart and I cruised some Salamanca Place art galleries in the morning and in the afternoon I attended my first poetry reading at the Republic Bar & Café – a monthly offering – where I saw Ralph again, and met Chris Gallagher of the Tasmania Writers’ Centre. On my fourth day I attended a poetry workshop led by poet Anne Kellas, where Pete read some of his long poems and we talked poetry for 2½ hours straight. They’ve even invited me back October 4 to read and talk about some of MY prose poetry!

 If this is what life in Tasmania is like, every waking moment (and some of my sleeping ones as well!) will be my PhD project. I can’t think of anything better – unless my sweetie and all my friends were here, too!