Are Museums Boring?

We were talking dull museums on Twitter today.

It started when someone enthusiastically endorsed this article from the UK's Daily Telegraph, "21 Reasons Why I Hate Museums".

Aside from wondering what had happened to articles structured around a mere five or ten points, I found myself in two minds about this piece.

On one hand, I kind of agree with its main point.

Too many people trudge around museums while on vacation out of a sense of duty, regardless of whether the exhibits are engaging or they're interested in its subject matter.

To my mind, this approach is a hangover from the 19th century idea that travel should always be educational and instructive.

By contrast, I've been in cities where I've read a description of the major museums, and then decided I'd rather go on a walking tour or hang out in an interesting neighbourhood.

I can't speak highly enough of this latter strategy, if thought and research is applied to the selection of neighbourhood. I've had some great articles result from simply exploring in this manner (eg my day hanging out in St Roch, Quebec).

On the other hand, I feel the Telegraph article is unfair in dismissing museum visits altogether.

For my money, there are two key elements which must be in place for a museum visit to be a highlight of your holiday:

1. The museum has a creative and stimulating approach to addressing its subject;
2. The subject is something you're personally interested in.

The second point is really the most important, as a personal interest in the subject matter will excuse a fair bit of dodgy presentation.

As proof that interesting museums exist (at least for me), here are twelve accounts I've written of museums which were personal highlights because the above elements were in play:

• Schindler Factory Museum, Kraków, Poland.
• Pick Salami & Paprika Museum, Szeged, Hungary.
• Museum of Old & New Art (MONA), Hobart, Australia.
• Museum of Australian Democracy at Eureka, Ballarat, Australia.
• Grammy Museum, Los Angeles, USA.
• La Chascona, Santiago, Chile.
• Spirit Museum, Stockholm, Sweden.
• Neon Museum, Las Vegas, USA.
• Shangri La, Honolulu, USA.
• Million Toy Museum, Ayutthaya, Thailand.
• Sandringham Museum, UK.
• Discovery Pavilion, Quebec City, Canada.

What about you? Which museums moved you, and why? Leave a comment below.

The Unpublished 13: MONA - Wild Art in Hobart (Part 2)

Continuing from the first part of my profile of the Museum of Old and New Art (MONA) in Hobart, Tasmania, which I visited in 2011...

Truck Corridor, by
James Angus

We notice as we walk that MONA’s visitors often engage in conversation with each other as they puzzle out each piece, and we get chatting with several fellow attendees.

It may be via the general sense of irreverence or just the fact that we don’t each need to stare at a patch of notes on the wall, but there’s definitely a greater sense of interaction here than in a standard white-walls gallery.

We also notice a lot of family groups taking in the exhibits. Though MONA does provide a recommended child-friendly path through the gallery, it seems that most adults are happy to have their kids see everything and talk about it as they go; which seems a sensible approach to me.

There are plenty of pieces that work perfectly with children’s lively imaginations in any case. The brilliant Truck Corridor appears to be a full-size Mack truck, wedged tight into a corridor and only visible from front and rear.  

Babylonia looks like an enormous rock, but is entered to reveal a miniature hotel corridor with locked doors emitting mysterious sounds. White Library is a fascinating room filled with dozens of completely blank white books and magazines, stacked in shelves and on tables.

White Library, by Wilfredo Prieto

Another remarkable exhibit – one which visitors have to queue for – is held within a dimly lit room centred on an artificial island surrounded by a shallow ornamental lake. On the island are two cabinets. The one on the left houses an ancient mummy, while the one on the right projects a digital image of the mummy, which gradually dissolves to reveal an X-ray of the skeletal form within.

It’s absorbing stuff – but visitors do not live on art alone, and we decide to have a break for lunch. Before the gallery was established, the site’s Moorilla Estate was a noted winery and brewery, and you can still enjoy its products in The Source restaurant in the main above-ground building.

However, we opt for the more informal setting of The Wine Bar, which has a pleasant view across lawns where concerts are sometimes staged.

The menu is a short list of classy dishes which could easily work as sharing plates. Some of the choices today are duck and orange salad; house-cured tuna; and sweet potato, cashew and apricot salad. It’s tasty food, imaginatively served.

Lunch at The Wine Bar, MONA

The beer list is as long as the food menu is short, covering 70 brews with a dozen on tap. I order one of Moorilla’s own beers, the Moo Brew Pale Ale; it’s hoppy and refreshing on a warm day.

There’s much more to see back at MONA, but for the moment we’re enjoying the contrast between the low-light world of challenging art and the sunlit, scenic world up above. Art matched with good food and drink seems the perfect combination, and we have plenty to talk about as we mull over the works we’ve seen.

Somehow, sitting here at lunch amplifies the impression of being the absent Walsh’s guests. From his eccentric art notes to this fine place to eat and relax, his presence seems to be unavoidable.

Back in MONA, I spot a brightly painted wheel which hangs above the floor, slowly spinning. It turns out to be a work by the famed British artist Damien Hirst. In the O, Walsh’s note about this work reads “I really like it now. Maybe I’m just trying to avoid facing up to the fact that I’ve blown half a million bucks”.

If so, that was half a million bucks well blown. Not to mention the rest.

Disclosure time... on this trip I was hosted by Tourism Tasmania.

The Unpublished 13: MONA - Wild Art in Hobart (Part 1)

In 2011 I visited the Museum of Old and New Art (MONA) in Hobart, Tasmania for the first time. It was only a few months old, but would soon rocket up the charts to become the island state's most popular tourist attraction. 

After the visit, I wrote this profile of the amazing gallery and its exhibits. However, the magazine which had requested it had accidentally requested the same coverage from another writer. I managed to incorporate the heart of my work in another article, but the original has never been published. Until now...

MONA, as seen from an approaching ferry

What do you do  if you’re an eccentric mathematical genius who’s made millions by designing successful gambling systems? Live the high life on the French Riviera? Or return to your roots and open a vast new modern art museum in the northern suburbs of Hobart?

It’s this thought that passes through my mind as my wife Narrelle and I sit on the deck of the ferry that’s taking us from Hobart’s CBD to the Museum of Old and New Art. 

MONA is the brainchild of David Walsh, a self-made gambling millionaire who’s beholden to no government grants. As a result, his contemporary art museum beneath a promontory in the Derwent River is packed with an eclectic collection of works that would startle any conservative state-run gallery director.

The lowest level of the gallery

I’m really looking forward to getting inside and seeing what the fuss is about. Since it opened in 2011, MONA has had locals and visitors to the slow-paced Tasmanian capital in a buzz, with reports of outlandish objects and fascinating concepts. Now we’re about to see it for ourselves.

This ferry trip seems a great way to get into the right mood. The passengers are a happy group of art lovers on a day out, enjoying the views along the broad river on a warm and sunny day. Even when we pass an enormous refinery halfway along, it feels as if we’re taking in a complex piece of industrial-themed art.

Then we’re at MONA’s dock beneath a rugged headland, climbing the steps to the entrance. There’s not much to see at this point, oddly, just a door framed by reflective metal sheets, approached by walking across a fake tennis court. Reportedly Walsh specifically ordered this low-key approach, rather than an intimidating lofty facade.

The view over the river is beautiful from this point – but we’re heading down, to the bulk of the gallery within the hillside.

A spiral staircase takes us down a circular liftwell, through millennia of exposed sandstone. At the bottom, a corridor flanked by high stone walls feels like the entrance to a tomb. We’re already impressed, and we haven’t even seen any art yet.

Bit.fall, by Julius Popp

It’s not far away. Nearby are a number of works of varying sizes and concepts, including Bit.fall, a fountain from which timed bursts of water spell words which then stretch and fall to the ground below; III Crossing, a video installation in which a giant hand moves pedestrians and cars about a busy intersection; and the amazing Loop System Quintet, five enormous machines with arms mechanically rotating in patterns, each arm topped with a single light bulb.

There’s also the memorable Locus Focus, installed within one of MONA’s toilet cubicles. It’s a functional facility equipped with mirrors which enable startlingly intimate views while sitting on the loo.

Loop System Quintet, by Conrad Shawcross

Given the diversity in size and shape of these works, and the relatively low-lit environment, the usual system of descriptive notes on gallery walls might not cut it. In place of this is “The O”, a customized iPod Touch with which each visitor is issued upon entry.

On the press of a single button, this clever device senses the holder’s location in the museum and displays details of the closest works. It’s a clever idea, freeing the viewer from the necessity of hunting down wall notation and peering at it in low light.

The O offers multiple choices of information about each work – there may be an audio interview with the artist, the usual academic notes, and some short sharp remarks designed to provoke thought. Under the “Gonzo” category, there’s input by Walsh himself, amusing meanderings which occasionally contradict the other notes or even complain about the art.

It may sound absurd, but in practice the device invokes a sense of playful humour, making the art fun...

NEXT: The wild exhibits continue, including Truck Corridor, Babylonia, White Library and a pair of mummies in a dark wet room (!).

Disclosure time... on this trip I was hosted by Tourism Tasmania.

Wild Art of the Derwent

I've just had a pleasant short visit to Hobart, the capital of Tasmania, and the four days I spent there were dominated by thoughts of MONA.

I refer, of course, to the Museum of Old and New Art, which has rapidly become the city's number one tourist attraction since its opening a year ago.

I was partly in Hobart to catch a few acts in the annual MONA FOMA arts festival (and the new opera The Barbarians and the Dresden Dolls concert were both fantastic); but also, to see what had changed at MONA since my first visit last year.

For those who came in late - MONA was founded by the eccentric art collector David Walsh, who made his millions via a professional gambling system he developed. It apparently gives him an edge, which ends up funding purchases of fascinating art.

The gambling dens' losses are Hobart's gain, as Walsh has thrown open his art collection to the masses, via the enormous purpose-built art museum dug into a promontory on the Derwent River.

It's a beautiful location, still the home of a winery and with million dollar views over the water. The best way to get there is via ferry from the city centre; the voyage gets you in the right mood for appreciating art.

Much has been written about the long-term exhibits which launched MONA last year. Most are still there - the bizarre loo with strategically placed mirrors, the timed waterfall which forms words taken from the Web, the all-white library with blank books and pages, the machine which mimics the human digestive system.

What's new is an exhibition of the works of Belgian artist Wim Delvoye, who signs his name in cheeky mimicry of the Disneyland logo.

There's some fascinating stuff here: old rubber tyres painstakingly etched with delicate art; figures of Christ twisted into Möbius-like loops; a lofty steel suppository with Gothic decorative elements; X-ray images of rats bearing a crucifix; a full-size carry case for a motorcycle, with motorbike within.

It sounds potentially offensive, at least to some; but that's not the vibe I was picking up from my fellow visitors. People were interested, fascinated, bemused, chatty, laughing... basically, being stimulated by the art.

We seem to have come a long way since the days when contemporary art was routinely attacked by the tabloid media as representing the impending collapse of civilisation; and isn't that a relief?

The Wim Delvoye exhibition continues to April 2012 at MONA, 655 Main Road, Berriedale, Hobart; adult entry $20 (free to Tasmanians). MONA FOMA continues to 22 January 2012. More at www.mona.net.au.

Pieces of Hobart

I've become a bit sunburned in Hobart - probably not something that's often said about one of Australia's southernmost places. It may be mid-autumn but it's been warm and sunny for the past few days, neatly timed with my latest short visit to Tasmania.

Here are some snapshots...

1. The exterior of Hadleys Hotel, where I stayed for the first two nights. It was built in 1854 and is about to undergo a big 21st century renovation.

Reading the history of the hotel, I was amused to note the experience of 1912 Norwegian guest Roald Amundsen, who had just become the first man to reach the South Pole and was about to announce the achievement to the world.

Here's what the great explorer later wrote about his reception at Hadleys: "Treated as a tramp - my peaked cap and blue sweater - given a miserable little room. Then I cabled the King."

 

2. A cool bit of art on the side of an old building on the corner of Goulburn and Molle Streets. You can just see the outside tables of a great little cafe, Pigeon Hole, on the left.

 3. The entrance to funky new art gallery MONA (Museum of Old and New Art) in the city's north. Visitors enter the underground complex by first walking across the unused tennis court you can see in the foreground:

4. This little gem is the North Hobart Post Office, built in 1913. Great to see a post office building that's both a lovely piece of architecture, and also still used as a post office.

5. And the nearby State Theatre, a cinema in which the young Errol Flynn probably caught some silent movies when he lived in the area:

6. And finally, afternoon tea at acclaimed Battery Point cafe Jackman and McRoss. Consumed entirely for research purposes... no, really.

 

Disclosure time... on this trip I was hosted by Tourism Tasmania.

The Unpublished 9: Dreaming of a Hot Xmas

A few years ago I had a go at selling a seasonal story on Australia's Christmas traditions to a bunch of US publications. 

No-one took up the offer, but in the spirit of the season I'd now like to share my Down Under festive musings with you. Merry Xmas!

Something’s wrong here. It’s the holiday season, and I can see Christmas trees, tinsel, and greeting cards with Santa and snow.

But outside, the thermometer is heading towards the 90s [the 30s in Celcius], the hot sun beats down and there’s not a reindeer to be seen.

Are you dreaming of a white Christmas? You won’t find it in Australia. As the land Down Under has opposite seasons to countries in the Northern Hemisphere, its holiday season falls right in the middle of its hot, dry summer.

Tinsel in the sunshine

But this meteorological fact opens the door to a Christmas with a difference. Many Australian families still celebrate the day with the traditional roast dinner, but an outdoor barbecue and salads are just as likely. Then it’s off to a swim at the local beach after lunch. The majority of people live near beaches of the white-sand variety, so they’re an essential component of summer.

The most famous beach is Bondi, located on Sydney’s Pacific coast. This is where the beach volleyball took place at the 2000 Olympics. Bondi is the classic Aussie beach, with surf lifesavers patrolling an area between two flags, ready to pluck weak swimmers from the waves at the first sign of trouble.

The holiday season contrasts don’t end there. The usual images of a fur-bedecked Santa and his reindeer are to be seen on greeting cards, but he also gets into the beach act, with a team of kangaroos pulling his sleigh, or surfing on a beach in his hat and a pair of bright red shorts. Likewise, snow-like tinsel hangs shimmering above shopping strips in the bright sunlight.

Sporting fixtures

But if you want to experience the full Aussie Christmas, there’s more to it than beaches. Aussies are sports-crazy, and some major events on the sporting calendar take place at the end of the year. Starting on the day after Christmas (known as Boxing Day), the annual Sydney to Hobart yacht race pits sailors against dangerous seas, with festivities at either end of the 628 nautical mile route.

If you’ve ever wondered about the mysteries of the game of cricket, Melbourne is the place to find out. Each year, the Boxing Day Test takes place at the iconic Melbourne Cricket Ground, a stadium located just outside the city centre. It’s an international match, with Australia playing an opponent in a game that takes several days to resolve.

It doesn’t matter too much if you find the rules incomprehensible - sitting in the sunshine with a drink and a traditional meat pie is a pleasant way to pass the day. Just cheer whenever the Aussies do.

Outdoor performance

Culture isn’t neglected in Australia’s cities, with Sydney’s annual festival of the arts taking place in January. Many of its events are free and held outdoors. Outdoor theater also takes place in parks in all major cities, including light-hearted productions of Shakespeare, and children’s classics like The Wind in the Willows.

Crowds also gather for outdoor carol-singing events by candlelight. In Melbourne, thousands sing along with local musicians, performing both modern and traditional Christmas carols in the Kings Domain park. The carol-singing tradition, begun in the 1930s, has spread throughout Australia, with even small towns staging their own event.

There are even Australian Christmas carols, including an Aussie version of The Twelve Days of Xmas in which “My true love sent to me, A kookaburra in a gum tree”. And The Three Drovers puts an Aussie spin on the more traditional shepherds (drovers are local versions of cowboys).

Chilled out, festive style

And New Year’s Eve is spectacular when viewed across Sydney Harbor on a balmy evening with a beer in hand, while watching fireworks explode over the famous Opera House.

The sort of relaxed, friendly mood you’d expect at holiday time is present, amplified by the benefits of Australia’s warm, dry summers: sandy beaches, barbecues, beer gardens outside local pubs, fresh seafood, good wine and life lived in the open.

But in the end, the holiday season is the same Down Under as in the rest of the world. People ease off from their office work, chill out, spend time with their families and celebrate the hope of a brand new year.

The Unpublished is a random series comprising my never-published travel articles. For previous instalments, click on the The Unpublished Topic tag below, then scroll down.

Hobart Funny Ha-ha

A funny thing happened to me on the way to the west coast of Tasmania - I was waylaid by the annual Hobart Comedy Festival.

Well, not exactly waylaid. I'd written a preview article on the festival for Melbourne daily newspaper The Age, and was dropping in on its opening night on my way to Queenstown to try out the West Coast Wilderness Railway.

I was in the Tassie capital by 11am, so to kill time I walked around the dockside to Salamanca Place, and had a late breakfast at Plum.

I'm unreasonably biased toward this cafe in Salamanca Square because it shares PG Wodehouse's nickname, and my reverence for the creator of Jeeves and Wooster knows no bounds.

The fact that it also turns out an exceptionally good omelette with tomato, basil and goat's cheese folded neatly over a slice of impeccable toast is another reason I like the place.

Then I had a late lunch of beef ragout lasagne with festival director Craig Wellington (who I've known since he was a wee lad in 1985). I know what you're thinking: "Does he imagine that a trip to Hobart revolves around its food and drink?" Well, yes. Yes I do.

But there are other pleasures in life that make life worth living, and one of them is laughter. About 7pm I walked from my flash lodgings at the Henry Jones Art Hotel through the icy night air to the 1911 Hobart City Hall, main venue of the Hobart Comedy Festival.

The Hobart City Hall, by the way, shouldn't be confused with the Hobart Town Hall, which is a completely different building. The City Hall is actually a cavernous entertainment venue which often hosts live concerts.

I can't tell you much about the interior, as the Comedy Fest had done a brilliant job of obscuring it with cloth hanging both horizontally and vertically, creating the impression of a vast tent.

A new, lower stage had been set up in front of the venue's original stage, and a brilliant hanging star field set behind that. Around and back from the edge of the stage were tables and chars in a cabaret setting.

The Festival has been structured so that there are three nightly shows with multiple comedians each night. The first one on Saturday, Back to Base, featured Tassie-born comedians Hannah Gadsby and Justin Heazlewood aka The Bedroom Philosopher. This was followed by Planet Earth Presents with Montreal-based DeAnne Smith and Eleanor Tiernan from Ireland.

Then a mixed medley of comedians were showcased in the Festival Club, but at that point I needed to slip away and get some sleep in reparation for the west coast trek in a minibus the following day.

Some observations... it was great to see so many female comedians on the bill, when they're usually far outnumbered by males in such events; both Gadsby and the Bedroom Philosopher expertly skewered their respective home towns in northern Tassie (Smithton for Gadsby, Burnie for Heazlewood); an Irish accent makes anything a pleasure to listen to, even if it's quite rude; and you can never go wrong in knocking bogans (the first show's MC praised Tasmania for its potent-strength bogans, which outshone even those of his native Perth).

Most of all though, it was surprising how much material was about lesbian sex, a result of both Gadsby and Smith addressing the topic with enthusiasm. The mainstream audience may have been a little startled at first, but was then filled with the spirit of adventure and laughed copiously.

Which seems faintly remarkable, given that it hasn't been that many years since homosexuality was illegal in Tasmania. Or maybe not that remarkable, given the audience's good-natured response.

It's a great little festival for a great little city. Oh, and in case you were wondering... for dinner I had a Tasmanian venison pie and a Boag's beer from the festival bar, served with a cheeky little salsa (the pie, not the beer).

It was very good.

The Hobart Comedy Festival runs from 23 July to 1 August 2010; make bookings via www.hobartcomfest.com. Flight and accommodation packages are available via lumina.discovertasmania.com.

Disclosure time... on this trip I was hosted by Tourism Tasmania (though I paid for all those tasty meals).

Hobart: Epicurus Found

This week, part two of guest blogger Narrelle M Harris' quest for freedom, friendship and contemplation in Hobart, Tasmania…

Thanks to Alain de Botton, I know that the ancient Greek philosopher Epicurus agreed that people needed to have the basics covered – a roof over their head, clothes to wear and enough to eat – but that true happiness was achieved through having good friends, personal freedom, and time for contemplation.

In the old days when I had a dull office job, holidays were for running around madly and packing as much excitement in as possible before returning to the drudgery.

While I still enjoy the odd stimulating holiday, my week in Hobart was specifically about slowing down. I even went so far as to leave my iPhone at home in Melbourne to take a break from the pressures of constant connectivity.

This was a big step; and I worried that I would pine without it.

Freedom

Instead, I discovered that I could live without needing to know what the world was up to every damned second of the waking day. Every time a phone with my ringtone beeped in my vicinity, I would tense up, then relax as I realised it couldn’t possibly be for me. I didn’t know I had needed peace and quiet so much. Without the constant pull of Facebook, Twitter, LiveJournal and email, I had time to take time.

I slept in every morning, an unheard of indulgence. I took long bubble baths and read Mills and Boon books, because it didn’t matter if I dropped them in the bath (I already knew how they’d end). I then realised that I’d rather read a proper book in the bath than ever touch another Mills and Boon, because you can’t relax in a bath when a book is making you angry. And then I learned that actually I could read a proper book in the bath without dropping it.

I sat at cafes and read in the sunshine; I lay on the grass at the Cascade Brewery and laughed out loud at Catherine Deveny’s brilliantly evil mind (expressed via her book Free to a Good Home). I sat, caught like a cat in a sunbeam, on an armchair in our hired apartment and read and read and read.

I’m a writer and a book lover, but somehow rarely find time to read. This trip, I read five great books (and three terrible romance novels, but I’m not really counting those). I have returned home with the resolution to set more time aside for reading, because if I don’t make the space for it, time will never magically appear.

Friendship

I both met old friends and made new friends in Hobart. Without a phone, we had to arrange meetings with our Tassie friends the old fashioned way – setting a time and place and showing up as planned.

It was fun meeting up; not having to rush off, and without being interrupted by mobile phone calls that take us thoughtlessly from the people we are actually with, to someone who we could probably call back later.  We caught up on months and years of ideas and developments. I also met up with someone I knew only slightly and we talked for hours about writing.

I also made temporary friends on the buses, with charming locals who were only too pleased to help me find my way to the 1914 State Cinema.

I had a lovely natter with the woman who had explained the local bus fares, and she told me about the property she and her husband were setting up with green power and organic crops while they worked part-time in the city. An older gentleman let me know when we’d reached my stop and then walked with me across the road and up the hill to the cinema. It was wonderful to have time to make time for strangers, who had so kindly made time for me.

Contemplation

And there was the time I spent with Tim, reading in companionable silence; walking the three kilometre trail through the Hobart Rivulet Linear Park to the brewery while we discussed life and nature; enjoying simple meals; and going to Wrest Point Casino see the Tasmanian Symphony Orchestra perform with The Whitlams after Tim bought the tickets on impulse.

Since I returned, I’ve had time to contemplate further; I know now I don’t need to be so compulsively attached to the Internet, and I need to make time for reading.

Hobart was the perfect Epicurean getaway for me; filled with good company, freedom from schedules and demands, simple but excellent meals, and the time to appreciate them all.

Find details of Narrelle's vampire novel The Opposite of Life at her website, along with details of her other published work.

[read part one of Narrelle's Hobart experience here]

Hobart: On the Trail of Epicurus

This week's guest blogger is fantasy novelist Narrelle M Harris, author of the acclaimed vampire novel The Opposite of Life.

I’ve just spent a week in Hobart, Tasmania, trying to live the life that Epicurus would have been proud of.

The ancient Greek philosopher, who lived from 341 BC to 270 BC, believed the secret of life lay in combining an independent existence with contemplation, good food and the company of friends.

Rather than a hedonist gorging himself on gourmet food, his philosophy was actually centred on simplicity. His idea of a feast might involve little more than a pot of cheese and a really nice loaf of bread.

Could I follow in his footsteps in the capital of Australia’s island state, Tasmania? Here’s the answer…

Good drink

When not on vacation I live in the Melbourne city centre, with the city’s best baristas operating within five minutes of my front door. Which means I’m used to going on holiday knowing I won’t have a decent cup of coffee until my return.

I never suspected that my caffeine habit could be successfully sustained by the cafes of Hobart. However… at Salamanca Place and adjoining Salamanca Square, a charming 19th century collection of shops and galleries by the Derwent River, excellent coffee could be had at several establishments.

Plum, for one, served a fine caffe latte in a cunning Bodum receptacle, made of double-layered plastic with a vacuum within, so that the cup was comfortable to hold but the excellent coffee remained hot.

Good food

But it wasn’t just the coffee that was superb. Tasmania is obviously flush with fine produce, and plenty of it trickles down south to Hobart. From a simple chickpea and chorizo salad at Tricycle to an indulgent seafood lunch at Catch, I was in culinary heaven.

The latter was an especially excellent meal – a dozen of the local oysters, served on a bed of rock salt with a squeeze of lemon, followed by the most perfectly prepared salmon nicoise salad, with a wee, warm cob loaf and a bottle of Tasmanian spring water. Simple. Perfect.

Also superb was the damper and dukkah, and the rich, earthy beef and stout pie served at the Cascade Brewery’s restaurant, followed by stout-flavoured ice cream, accompanied by the establishment’s own sparkling apple and raspberry juice. And the cool, creamy almond-topped custard pie (with more excellent coffee) at bakery-cafe Pane Cucina at 366 Elizabeth Street in North Hobart.

Home preparation

There were also the simple pleasures of local breads, excellent cured meats, tasty vine-ripened tomatoes, tangy fetta cheese and a curiously mild wasabi mustard. We bought these at the Salamanca Place greengrocer Fresh Fruit Market as ingredients for no-fuss lunches and dinners in our self-catering apartment at Salamanca Terraces.

Living the good life isn’t necessarily about fancy-pants restaurants and gourmet recipes. But good produce, simply prepared is most definitely one of life’s great pleasures, and Hobart delivered fabulous and welcome surprises on this score.

So that’s food sorted. But what about Epicurus’ other elements of the good life? Join me next week as I seek freedom, friends and contemplation in the Tasmanian capital…

Find details of Narrelle's vampire novel The Opposite of Life at her website, along with details of her other published work.

[read part two of Narrelle's Hobart experience here]

Tasmania, Mon Ami

It’s strange revisiting a place after 23 years.

I’ve been in Australia's island state Tasmania this week on a travel writing assignment, and I realised with some surprise that I was last here in 1985.

That was way back in the "Greed is Good" era, though recent economic shocks in the USA would suggest that sentiment is always with us.

In the last few days I’ve been to the cities of Launceston and Hobart, to the wilderness of Freycinet National Park, and to various wineries and breweries across the state.

What’s struck me is how much our travel experiences nowadays are connected to food and drink. Tasmania is famous for its beautiful landscapes and convict history, but it’s also producing some exceptional consumables.

Over the last few days I’ve sampled great beer, wine, whisky, salmon, oysters and other goodies. On reflection, I suppose it makes sense that a desire for natural beauty should mesh with a desire for fine natural produce.

But what was really enjoyable was catching up with two Tasmanian friends in Hobart, at a mellow bar called The Quarry on sandstone Salamanca Place.

There’s nothing quite like catching up with friends when you’re away from home – you get the benefits of a stimulating new environment combined with stimulating conversation all at once.

Which reminded me of the first Lonely Planet job I did back in 2006. In the last week I arrived back in Kraków, to meet up with two Australian friends who were flying in from two different locations: Claire from London, Ben from Paris.

For some reason, it's immensely cool to rendezvous with friends in a country where none of you are resident; it feels like you’re all sophisticated jetsetters.

Which just goes to prove, I suppose, travel’s inherent ability to make you see everyday relationships in a new light, to refresh old friendships and add a dash of the theatrical to your daily existence.

Tim Richards travelled courtesy of Tourism Tasmania.