Strange memories on this nervous night in Launceston. Has it been five years? Six? It seems like a lifetime. I check my watch. It’s been 7 hours. Still, my mind wanders…
My grandfather, a hard-drinking teutcher maritime sailor with an accent like spayside-scotch used to tell me:
“Aye come here ya wee-laddy. Now, to my knowledge, the only Carl’s Jr in Australia is in the domestic terminal of the Brisbane Airport. So, if you’re ever in the domestic terminal of the Brisbane Airport, be a good lad and make sure you get Carl’s Jr, because you might not be presented that opportunity again any time soon. I pray to God that you’ll live to see a Carl’s Jr open in Logan so you may indulge in their American-style burgers without the need to pass through customs and security, but for the time being that’s not the world we live in“
Carl’s Jr might not be the best burgers in Australia, they might not even crack the top 300, but I’ll be DAMNED if I was going to betray the memory of my pop by not ordering a premium Super-Star with Cheese.
On taking off from the Brisbane Domestic Terminal (Carl’s Jr nesting uneasily in stomach), it’s slightly confronting to consider just how far the suburban neighbourhoods have seeped from the city centre all the way to the tarmacs. It’s almost as if there is some sort of population problem…
…in touching down in Launceston, the ground is littered by the absence of structure, but-for fences, and sheep stuck within these fences. The town of Launceston is not visible from Launceston Airport. I like that. The airport workers have the sort of endearing malaise of shearers in high-vis vests.
On the taxi ride from the airport to my hotel, through the winding forests and city centre, I realise I’m going to fall into a literary sinkhole in writing about Tasmania. It seems like the bulk of travel literature about the state can be surmized in two sentences.
“Well, isn’t this quaint!”
And
“Well geez mister, there sure are a lot of trees!”
My ride pulls past the Bull and Cock Pub, and into the Colonial Hotel, a quaint place of 18th-century brick and period appropriate sensibilities. I walk into my room, drop my luggage and turn on the Tree Channel.
Knolling is the art of laying out the contents of something, usually at 90 degree angles. It’s especially interesting if it is the contents of say, an ambulance, or an entire office building, and you think “gosh, how did they fit all that”. Here is the contents of the bag I’ll be riding around with:
Some items of particular note are:
- Kevlar Riding Pants – If I fall off my ribs will break, but my cuffs will be bone dry;
- T-Shirts (Various Colours) – To hide my nipples;
- A sports jacket – In case I meet royalty;
- A plaid shirt – In case I meet a lumberjack;
- Some hand towels, a toilet roll, various teas and sugars, and a lightbulbs – These are items I brought with me. If I accumulate more over the course of the trip, it’s just because I forgot to take a photo of them here.
In the late afternoon, I decided to leave the room because I am an engaged traveller, and because I needed to buy headphones.
Much can be said of Launceston that can be said about any pre-gentrification regional city – there is an EB Games on the main street, a successful Harvey Norman, and a Myer but no David Jones. The streets are full of genuinely gorgeous buildings, in beautiful cream colours, labelled as pre-20th-century “General Motor Company” or “Wool Industries” or “General Merchants Union Proprietary Limited Trading Company & Old Timey Things Etcetera”.
One thing I did notice is the compulsive usage of the word “National”. I saw the “National Theatre”, “National Library”, and “National Education Centre”, to name a few. I’m not sure if Tasmania thinks it is its own country, or if they just haven’t told anyone from the mainland about this, or if no-one from the mainland has come to check. In either event, I like their gumption.
After wandering the streets and judging the decor, I arrived at JB Hifi. I had to wait 20 minutes for someone to come help me find the headphones I wanted (as in, I was told to wait)!! Then after deciding to just try to find them on my own, they were in a locked cabinet, so I waited another fifteen minutes before just leaving the store!!!
Then I went next door to Officeworks, where I got the same headphones for two dollars less, and in a transaction that took three minutes all up. They also had one pack of tic-tacs for sale. Real bargain if you’re in the area.
In closing, this:
On my mum’s side I have a buxom great aunt who, when she wasn’t boozing or working on her impressions of Saturday Night Live Characters, would lament:
“Tom, in every regional centre in the world, there is a burger joint founded by the hipsters who never moved to the big city – now we mustn’t judge them for this, some people don’t like big cities, or have sick parents, or don’t like crowds. Anyway, these burger joints, that serve horrible craft beer and have a predilection for bad spray paint, are entirely unique to each of their respective towns. So, if you’re ever in a regional city, such as say, Launceston, make sure you go to these burger joints“
And I’d say
“But Aunty, what if I had Carl’s Jr for lunch! Two burgers in one day!?”
And then my face would sting, for she had slapped me hard.
Launceston is a beautiful city by the bay (it looks a bit like a creek, but there are seagulls, so I’m not sure). Like any city of its sized, I’m sure if I dug deep enough I would find an amphetamine problem, regional theatre, and small collects of dungeons and dragons enthusiast. But being as it is, and as an aspiring travel writer, I hesitate to judge any place by what I haven’t seen (I can do that from the comfort of home).
Launceston – come for the quaintness, leave because it’s time to see some trees.
Fear And Loathing In Launceston 