Taswegian Times

As Perth is quite far out of the way we head down to Tasmania for a week. It's only a 40 minute flight from Melbourne to Hobart so we're in at around 8.30am.

There is always a part of your brain which struggles to come to terms with travelling. Some small piece just can't quite come to terms with new surroundings and desperately searches for familiarity.

Sometimes you think you see a familiar face from back home, and sometimes it's just the vibe.

And so it is, when we arrive in Tasmania, that my brain convinces me that we're in New Zealand. And though this feeling shrinks as the days pass it never fully leaves.

I have to watch what I'm saying as people are as proud (or parochial) here as anywhere else.

The shuttle bus drops us off at the Tourist Information office as it's too early to check in to our hotel. We heave our bags into the office and I ask the 'mis-information' officer for distance and directions to the hotel.

He is aware of the weight of our baggage, he is also aware of the geography of Hobart. I am aware of only one of these facts. He does not, however, put these two facts together and tells me that it is an easy 10 minute walk to the hotel.

And so after struggling up a 45 degree slope for 40 minutes we arrive at our hotel. Luckily enough our room is ready.

The Mayfair on Cavell is a quirky (not in a bad way) place. Our room is full of retro furniture from the 50's till the present day, all fully functional. It's not some tacky attempt at retro chic, nor has it just not been updated, but manages to blend a feeling of homeliness with it's quirkiness.

If you like minimalism, it's not for you.