Australia and Tasmania: Hanging Rock

Today, Celia gave me a ride up to Woodend, since she was headed that way anyway to help her friends Brad and Jane work on their new house. My first stop was at a local bakery, where I bought a “lemon slice” and a sandwich. Further up the street I found a fish and chips shop, and decided to sample their food.

It was pretty bad. All the items were pre-fried, and lacked that crisp quality only found in fresh frying. I think it’s true what Celia’s friends say: The farther you get from the coast, the lower the quality of the fish and chips.

My next destination was a local park called Hanging Rock.

On the way out, through gently sloping farmland. Plenty of sheep and cattle around.

Watch out for roo crossings!

Most of the way up Hanging Rock. You can see my beard is getting a little out of control!

Dammit, I blinked!

Part way up, a couple of kids shouted, “Hey! Take our picture!!” I didn’t catch their names. Now their photo is online but they will never find it. Hah!

From the top of Hanging Rock, having a look ’round. I drank some water, took this photograph, then just rested, with my hands on my knees in front of me. I put on my bicycling gloves to keep the sunlight from roasting the backs of my hands. Sun protection, also, is SRS BSNS here in Australia. I’ve heard it said that the government has issued such stern warnings to citizens, against going out into the sun, that there has been a sharp rise in vitamin-D deficiency as a result. They’ve had to step up fortifying their foods.

House construction, temporarily suspended by the inclement weather.

This photo was taken on a bike path at the edge of a small park, and the wind picked up just then, and I had a terrible sneezing fit. Something in the air makes my sinuses go completely crazy for a short while. Don’t know what.

Brad and Jane, taking a break from house restoration.

I helped out for a little whole, scraping old paint from the walls. After an hour or so, Brad went out and fetched dinner for all of us. I ate happily, thinking it was his way of thanking us for the work. Later on Celia pointed out that the food had been expensive and it would have been polite of me to at least offer to pay for my share.

In retrospect I was a bit surprised at my own behavior. After thinking about it I realized that two things were going on:

First, my attitude towards food was very Californian. The total cost of living is very high in California, but the high price of property throws the cost of other things out of proportion. In effect, food is a small portion of the budget, so we think less about spending money on it. In Australia, food is not just relatively expensive, but expensive in absolute terms. My biggest lesson about that came when I went to a shop called Brunetti, intent on buying a treat for my hosts, and ended up spending 75 bucks on what seemed like barely enough macaroons to fill a plate.

Second, I was going through a very inward-focused, and somewhat selfish, time in my life. My usual sense of gratitude was off-kilter, and I didn’t even notice. I was too busy trying to rediscover and redefine myself.

This trip has certainly given me plenty of food for thought.