I’m off to Hobart this weekend — the long weekend of the King’s Birthday. This will be my second full trip there, and I only just realised I never really wrote much about the first one. I don’t know why, and now I can only pull scattered pieces from memory.
The first time I went to Hobart was for my birthday weekend with Fafa, and next weekend Liz and I are flying there together for her babymoon-slash-our friendshipmoon.
What I do remember is being completely high off the best haircut of my life. I also had Kilpatrick oysters for the first time. Before that, I didn’t know I could eat oysters warm without risking food poisoning.
We also spent a good chunk of time at MONA, which I had been referring to as MoMA until Liz sent through the ticket confirmation for this Sunday (we’re going again, this time for the Winter Garden Festival). Back then, I was completely fascinated by the machine that replicates the human pooping process in MoMA, I mean MONA.
There was a really good meal at a restaurant, which I remember as Phat. I googled earlier, Phat is there, but they sell burgers, and I would never consider a burger a memorable meal.
I also remember reading some murder mysteries on my Kindle — that Kindle’s retired now, replaced by KOWL (my Kobo, which I’ve officially named Kobo-Owl).
The hotel we stayed in last time looked like a trucker motel from the outside, but the inside was surprisingly spacious and nice. But, from the pictures, it looks like the Airbnb we paid for this time will be better.
I remember choosing a road trip to Ross over a day in Bruny Island just because I insisted of seeing the Kiki’s Delivery Service bakery. This time, though, we’re actually going to Bruny.
There was a morning we went to Salamanca Market. I remember being pretty underwhelmed, especially compared to Melbourne’s markets. But if Liz wants to go, we shall.
It was so cold that September. I’m wondering if it’ll be the same this time around. Hopefully not — a friend said winter’s arriving late this year. Fingers crossed it’s after we leave Tasmania.
I forgot we randomly stopped somewhere just to take a hundred photos of me in the most random spot — I didn’t remember it until I saw those photos again… and deleted 99 of them.
I remember wearing my favourite Gorman dress — the one I loved so much and can’t fit into anymore. Maybe that’s a sign I should get another Gorman dress for this trip.
What I remember most clearly, though, was just how happy I was on that trip. Happier than I had been all year. And I’d like to feel that way again — more often. Maybe this Hobart trip will bring back the reasons that made me so happy during my first trip.
And maybe this time I’ll write more about it, so I can come back to it and really remember.
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