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After the wedding in Adelaide we went to Hobart, primarily to visit MONA. Since we were only staying two nights before jetting back to Melbourne we chose a very cheap Wotif Mystery deal, knowing only that it was a 4 star hotel in the Hobart CBD. Four stars, how bad could it be?
Firstly the flights. Adelaide to Melbourne was uneventful, yay. This in contrast to our arrival at Adelaide airport a few hours previously where Husband discovered that he had picked up the groom’s (our new nephew’s) wallet by mistake. I believe this was when he was detected attempting to go security with two wallets in his possession. We’d been dropped off outside, so Husband had to find a taxi driver and entrust to him the courier duty. We found out later that the owner hadn’t even noticed that it had gone missing which was just as well as the happy couple were due to fly out to Japan the next day. A bit o’ excitement there.
I allowed paranoia to guide my airline choices and connected to a Qantas flight on to Hobart rather than a possibly cheaper one, primarily to avoid hassles about collecting and rechecking luggage so prayed that that had magically happened by itself. We had a bit of a hike across the airport, as our departure gate was so far away it wasn’t even mentioned on the signage near our arrival gate, but we got there in plenty of time.( Husband attempted something radical and asked a person at an information desk for directions.)
When we got to our gate I was a little startled to discover that we were flying to Hobart in a prop plane, although I’d suspected as much from the booking info. (Once in my life I knew a reasonable amount about planes.) I wasn’t actually concerned about dying, much, more about going deaf. When the steward asked if he could get us anything to make our flight more comfortable, I was tempted to ask for jet engines.
For comfort’s sake I was glad it was a short trip, but it was unexpectedly entertaining in other ways. There was most definitely no video entertainment on offer, but we happily spent a good half hour playing with a complicated snack box of cheese, crackers, relish, a piece of chocolate, and a small box of mints. Think toddlers at Christmas playing with the wrapping and not really caring what’s inside. Just as well the wrapping was entertaining, for there was a hell of a lot of it per person. I’ll try to reconstruct it:
- Cardboard box containing:
- …Cheese in plastic wrapping.
- …Crackers in plastic tray in plastic wrapping.
- …Relish in plastic tub with foil cap.
- …Single piece of chocolate in foil sachet.
- …Mints in small cardboard box in plastic wrapping
- …Plastic bag containing:
- ……Double-ended plastic knife/spoon implement (a bit sticky if you needed to use both ends)
- ……Napkin
- ……Possibly something else in a sachet
- …Plastic bag containing:
- ……Plastic rubbish bag
I think that about covers it, plus the plastic cup for water. At least they poured from 2l bottles rather than handing out individual 150ml ones.
I was also not deafened by the engines, which is nice. I travel with earplugs but never used them, and actually enjoyed listening to the complex growls and purrs of the engines. They were quite chatty. Not quite so much while taking off - I could hear the considerable effort they were making. And it took quite a long time to reach cruising altitude, where we were frequently overtaken by overweight and elderly cockroaches with a fear of heights.
The low altitude was a bonus once we crossed the coast into Tassie, where we could see the ground really quite clearly. Plenty of detail of mountains, roads, boats, sheep, people, ants. Not people that looked like ants, but actual ants. Saw quite a few burned out bits too, and some firebreaks like scars across the mountains. But mostly it was layer after layer of purple rolling mountains lit gently by the setting sun.
We landed and I took refuge in a corner of the charmingly petite Hobart airport while Husband collected the luggage. Ours was late to come off, and Husband and a few fellow passengers got to watch an unclaimed life-sized seal statue wind its way around and around the carousel. As you do.
We managed to nab a taxi and convince the driver to take us to our mystery hotel. Got a bit alarmed along the way as we passed through the main part of town and kept going, and going, and going. I’d looked on the map, and this was well beyond where I thought the hotel was. Were we about to be ironically murdered, having escaped South Australia only that afternoon? Eventually it was revealed that the network of one-way streets in Hobart made the detour necessary, but I’m convinced we were taken a bit further than was strictly required.
And so we founds ourselves on the footpath outside the mysterious Macquarie Manor Heritage Hotel. Woo. Spooky.
TBC