The next thing I knew, it was 8am on Sunday, the 30th, and I was walking around Hobart, Tasmania. The air was cool, though there was no sign of the snow the city had had a couple of days prior. I tried to check into Central City Backpackers, but they wouldn't take me until 1pm. Aw boy. Now that I had plenty of time to kill, I decided to check out the town.

Absolutely nothing was open, no one was about, it felt like I was in a ghost town, overshadowed by Mt. Wellington. I made my way to Salamanca Place, and finally found a bit of life in the form of cafes housed in an old stone quarry. Apparently a great market takes place on Saturdays, but I was a day late for that. Typical. Ordered some really cheap Eggs Benny, which I thought was a score, until it arrived and found the meat to be sliced sandwich meat. The old stone buildings reminded me a bit of Elora, though a bit more sinister seeing as they were largely convict built.

Hobart was formally an old whaling station, one of the southern-most outposts before Antarctica, really. When the whalers came ashore, they hung out by the docks and were catered to by pubs which are largely still around. Though I considered stopping in, my body still felt so out of sorts by the time change and early start I gave it a pass. Well.... that, and the fact that it was only 10am. I opted instead for the Museum and Art Gallery. There was a big exhibit about Antarctic environment, wildlife, and research expeditions. I also caught an art exhibit consisting of rubbings of fish which are then painted to match the fish in life. In case you were wondering, sometimes the "art supplies" were accidentally left out over night.

With that in mind, my second (third, fourth?) wind soon expired. I went back to the hostel, and crashed out until check-in. Once refreshed and the three S's taken care of, I was back out on the town to check out the historic district of Battery Point with its hilly streets and painted stone cottages overlooking the bay. Rounded off the afternoon, cool and alternatively sunny and cloudy every five minutes, in a little pub by a roaring fire. Not the typical Aussie experience I realize, but in this part of the world, I had my jam-jams under my jeans and all bets were off.

The hostel was pretty quiet, hung out with Adam (Aus), Joe (UK), and Zim (Kor), and hit the sack. The tomorrow was yet another early start... wasn't this supposed to be a vacation?