Devilish Days.

I spent the latter half of my Easter Break (not known as “spring break” here-making quite the assumption about religious affiliation, aren’t we, Australia?) traveling around Tasmania with my study abroad group. Not Tanzania, the country nestled on Africa’s eastern coast. People often hilariously confuse these two locations based on the simple assonant similarity of their names-in fact, I truly had a few people reminding me to bring my passport on this trip, my “trip to Africa.” I’m sure that Australia’s small island state is quite, quite different from the east African seaboard.

We left at the unforgiving time of 6:00am on April 7^th and landed in Launceston, the home of Cataract Gorge...and pretty much nothing else. After this quick scenic stop, we were on the road with our notoriously monotonous bus-driver, good old Glen. Upon stopping in Iluka for the night, the majority of our group embarked on a quick run on the beach and polar bear (literally, frigid. Who knew Australia was a cold place? You had no idea, did you?) swim in the Tasman Sea. The next day brought us to Freycinet National Park, the home of Wineglass Bay and Coles Bay. An unexpectedly difficult and entirely dangerous hike brought us down a jagged ladder of rock steps to the treasure that is Wineglass Bay. Only accessible by foot, it is a spectacular sight, untouched and perfectly picturesque. We quickly made up for the 1,000 calories we expended on the treacherous hike with a visit to Kate’s Berry Farm (who, as it turns out, used to be Kevin). We noshed on warm scones, handmade cream, and fresh jam-it doesn’t get much better, or more British (which is appropriate, based on the obvious elements of Australian history), than that.

Following some spooky historical jaunts in Port Arthur, we made our way to a Tassie Devil Park, which afforded us up close and personal views of the crazy devils themselves. They’re endangered and confined to tiny Tasmania (and no, they look nothing like the cartoon characters of old). I’m quite sure Mocha would find it fun to romp around with those guys for awhile, but unfortunately for her, her general good-naturedness would not bode well nor protect her from their temperamental attitudes and gnarly fangs. Our trip to the Meadow Bank Winery proved fattening and delightful-there were beautiful views from the outskirts of the vineyards and we certainly enjoyed ourselves in a gluttonous manner. Our final foray into Tasmanian life was a biking descent of Mount Wellington, the highest point in the state, nestled in the background of Hobart. There were unrivaled views of 75% of the state from this 1270-meter sandstone paradise. As it was a descent and not a climb, the majority of the trip was spent clenching our brakes for dear life, hurdling down the mountain at high speeds and hoping not to crash into whatever IES amigo was sailing down in front of you.

All in all, Tasmania was a true gem. It sure gets a lot of crap, for lack of a better term, for being Aussie’s small, insignificant island state. Take it from me, if you’re the trusting type, and give this place, and those tyrannical Tassie Devils, a try sometime.