Take me to Dee River

Before you ask: no, we didn't go to Cradle Mountain. And no, we didn't go to Wineglass Bay. And no, we didn't go to Port Arthur. We did go to Hobart, and what little we saw of it was spine-tinglingly lovely. I ate some pretty spectacular French toast there. So yes, my quizzically-expressioned friend, we were in Tasmania. Stop shaking your head like that for a moment and put those eyebrows down. Just listen.

"Oohh, taaake me to Dee River... The River Dee is a tributary of the Derwent River in Tasmania. It flows into the Dee Lagoon. We will stay in dodgy motels, sing songs, eat cheese, drink wine, and once there you will, as Mr Green commands, cleanse your soul (and soles) in preparation for hitting 30 and starting a whole new chapter in life."

So in other words, blame Kat.

I'm kidding, of course. It turns out that sometimes best friends need a push to actually spend some proper quality time together. It's insane that the three of us have never taken a holiday on our own before, but now we live in separate cities, with separate lives, and we see each other only on sporadic transitory weekends. This had to be the most random and wonderful excuse for a 'girly' weekend ever.

The motel was not dodgy. In fact it wasn't even a motel. It was an 1840's charming stone cottage, with large airy rooms decked out in period furniture, free range eggs in the fridge and a loaf of homemade bread with jams lovingly provided.

The back garden was amazing - a treasure trove of fruit and vegetables at our disposal meant we had fresh mulberries at breakfast. And lunch. And dinner.

We settled down in the town of Hamilton (that's my maiden name. Geddit? Oh never mind), one with a tiny population, big beautiful hillscapes, a historic church and a goat I decided to name Engelbert.

Anyway. On Saturday morning we woke up to a fresh 13° c (while back home, Sydney was sweltering in the heatwave of the decade, enduring 42° c). This was the day. I suited up and we headed off into the relative wilderness looking for Dee River. Apparently there is even a place named Dee! I hoped for a sign that welcomed me personally.

About an hour into the drive, we saw a 'Dee River' sign and pulled over to take our first glance at it. A rocky stream bubbled past under the bridge. It looked friendly. We vowed to come back here if we were unable to find a more suitable launching point.

Eventually we turned off onto a dirt road - but shh, don't tell the hire car company - and bumped along it, fumbling with a map. We drove through a cluster of holiday homes which were possibly the aforementioned township of Dee, and there she was, the great Lagoon, on our left.


Dee Lagoon: your fate awaits you.

I'm totally in the Lagoon named after me. Ridiculous, but true. I flailed for a couple of minutes; my feet sinking into the oozy swamp mud. Mel joined me in solidarity. Then we toweled off, went back to the cottage and got drunk on cheese. Victory.

Scarce weekends

So, today (which is "kyo" in Japanese!) I listed all of the weekends between now and the end of July. And then I filled in all the 'life' stuff I need to do - mostly wedding related things, as what feels like thousands of my best friends get hitched and I need to be available for hen's nights, engagement parties, pre-wedding parties, actual ceremonies - and band stuff, including a long overdue recording session (Did I mention that we were in a band comp and have won all our heats and are now in the final? Well we are. It's a bit rad. The final is Tuesday week and if we win it we get a 5-day studio recording package. But I digress). The point is, empty weekends are like opportunities to eat cheesecake. Infrequent but blissful. Especially if the base is all crumbly. Mmmmmmm. Crumbly cheesecake base. Keeki-o kudesai? (Japanese: Can I have cake please?)

I then looked at all the challenges yet to achieve, and the time frames needed for some of them. It's a tiiiiiny bit nerve wracking, but mostly I'm still wrapped up in a sense of guileless positivity about their completion. Call it denial, whatever it is, it's working for me.

Sorry I haven't posted about Tasmania yet, but I've been applying for jobs and stressing about various other things and also am lazy and haven't got around to it. Y'know. But the short story is that I jumped in a lagoon. I'll tell you about it some time.

Meanwhile I've switched meditation audio and now a lovely Scottish gentleman named Andrew Johnson guides me. His accent is wonderful.

There's an App for that.

I downloaded a ‘Learn Japanese!’ app recently of which I’ve completed the first four lessons. The CDs we’ve been listening to are good up to a point, but seem to move too quickly when you don’t have any visual reference points. It’s difficult to even pick out the pronunciation sometimes, without being able to actually see the word and get a feel for how things are put together. Knowing how to say a full sentence by rote is very different to understanding how the sentence is put together and how the words work individually within it. The App is good for this – I now understand about sentence particles, and how the Japanese avoid pronouns. Instead of saying ‘I eat’ or ‘he eats’ or ‘they eat’, you just say ‘eat’ and then use context to figure out who you mean. Sounds a bit weird but I guess it works.

Our big coast trek from Bundeena to Otford was supposed to be this weekend, but after all the coordination there were no campsites left when I called to book. Of course. I feel a bit stupid for having left it so late but it was a backhanded blessing, in a way, what with the weather being so unbearable. The main problem is that we can’t find another weekend to do it until April at the earliest, so we’ll need to get it sorted out quickly otherwise we’ll have the other extreme and it’ll be too cold.

Next weekend, however, is Tasmania. Tasmania!

Yap yap yap

So I bought plane tickets to Hobart yesterday, meaning that “Dee’s Mad Bad Dash & Splash” is locked in for the first weekend of February next year. Kat, the harbinger of this challenge, has decreed that Ben is not allowed to come (sorry Ben). This is an adventure for three ladies, and three ladies alone: best friends since leaving their respective regional towns and converging in the university housing of the ‘big city’ back in 2000. In our ten years together, when was the last time we had a road trip, just the three of us? Well, frankly, never. And that’s just ridiculous.

So, we’ll be landing in Tasmania on a Friday morning, travelling to the gloriousness that is sure to be the Dee River, and following it to the wondrous Dee Lagoon. We hope. For all we know, it could be a swamp. Oh, no it’s ok, I just googled it. Apparently a lot of trout fishing goes on there. Sustainable life! High five!

I spoke to Mel on the phone last night and she was all:
“Wow, so we’re really going to Tasmania! It’s actually happening!”
“Of course it’s actually happening,” I said, “Were you not expecting it to?”
“Well… no. You know how we say we’re going to do things, and then they never happen?”
I thought about it. “No. Other people say they’re going to do things, and then they never happen. I actually do things.”

Fortunately, she had to concur this was true. But it was enough to give me steel. I pride myself on the follow through. If my own best friend wasn’t expecting this to come to fruition, does that mean that people aren’t taking me seriously? Because that would kind of explain a few things. I felt resentful. I put my ‘tough little dog’ face on and mentally yapped. I will complete 29 challenges! I WILL! Yap yap yap! Grrrr! Yap yap!

To illustrate this, here is a picture I drew of myself as a tough little dog. I also drew myself as a placid, slightly uncertain dog (above) for the fun of contrast.