Another Day of Firsts

First real estate showing, first solo drive, first election day

"Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home."
— Edith Sitwell

"Anyone can live in a house, but homes are created with patience, time and love."
— Jane Green

"Home is behind, the world ahead,
and there are many paths to tread
through shadows to the edge of night,
until the stars are all alight."
— J.R.R. Tolkien

Yesterday, we woke up snug as a bug in a rug. The new oil heater works a treat. The cats are happy and well rested. I was happy and well rested - until I saw in the paper that Tasmania had beautiful Aurora Borealis lights last night. We slept through them. Straight through until 6 am, when we rose to see the first hard frost of the season coating the grass. Damn. I’ve always wanted to see those gorgeous panels of color across the sky. Oh well. Maybe tonight.

(Oh, who am I kidding? We’re going to bed at 8 pm these days. This was last night at 10. Hmm. Maybe I can stay up an extra hour or so.)

We met Maree the Real Estate Agent at her office at 1130 am for our first house viewing. The road up was too steep for our rental, so Maree took us in her four wheel drive. Another couple was scheduled to look at the same time with their showing agent and we awkwardly smiled and danced around each other.

Since we’d arrived early, we had first crack at the walk through. The house looked great on the website, and great in person. Unfortunately, it’s not OUR house, but it did help us start to refine what’s really important so that Maree can help us narrow things down a bit.

The house had a great view. We WANT a great view.

But we don’t want a working farm. The house was too much of a good thing, with 16 acres of land, four pastures of goats, a hen house with chickens, a green house and raised beds for vegetables. Oh, and half a pond we’d share with a neighbor.

That’s a lot of land for people who don’t really like to garden. Or farm. Or raise livestock. Maree gave it one last push and suggested we could get some no-shear sheep and they could wander around and at least keep the grass close to the ground. Umm, no.

The inside was warm and snug, with a roaring fire in the log burner. The showing agent had done a great job preparing the place for us. The closet and pantry doors were closed. Maree shouted out from the hallway to feel free to open everything up and take a look.

Herr Zen took her at her word and opened the guest bedroom closet. The shelving unit inside promptly spit out one of the pegs, the shelf collapsed and an unopened bottle of wine slid down and smashed on the floor. Talk about stunned.

Maree came to our rescue, slithering silently into the kitchen to grab a dustpan for the glass and some towels to mop up the, thankfully, white wine. No muss, no fuss. I guess the house DEFINITELY doesn’t want us, either! I don’t think we’ll open any other doors, we’ll let Maree take the lead.

The other home browsers were younger, the man had impressive tattoos on his muscled arms, both were in good shape - definitely capable of taking care of a goat family or two. We gracefully left the field of battle to them. Hopefully, we will have a few more viewings lined up next week without as much extra land.

We celebrated our first showing with a lunch of fish and chips by the river. Note the white house in the top right corner. Sold three days before we arrived. Great view. They are out there! We just have to be patient. And quick.

Today, I decided to check out some houses on the other side of Hobart before asking Maree to set up a showing. If we don’t like the area, no point in looking, right? We crossed through town, then over the bridge to the peninsula with the airport, and then across another causeway to another peninsula with the beach towns.

Today is Election Day for Australia - voting is mandatory for citizens - so each town’s community center was open and vey active. Much more of a party atmosphere than the U.S. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, with some in costume.

We can’t vote yet, so we kept driving east without stopping. Eh. It’s brown over there, and not as many trees. Herr Zen had already scoped it out on his trip down last May, but I wanted to be sure it didn’t interest me before closing off that section of the real estate search. It’s nice - but not as nice as our Huon River Valley. We’ve gotten spoiled in our little cottage with the great views.

Mount Wellington looms over Hobart, and the clouds dump most of the rain on our side, meaning the other area on the east coast is arid and dry with yellow grasses and shrubs. Perfect for the olive groves and wine orchards, but not as lush and picturesque. The houses were also a little disappointing. They photographed GREAT but the colorless environment around them undercut the rosy online photos.

The day wasn’t a complete waste. We ended up over by Richmond, and drove through for a look see. Now THIS is more like it! A quintessential English village in the middle of Tasmania, with many of the original buildings and settlers’ cottages preserved. Adorable. The houses rarely come up on the market and are snapped up quickly. So we just enjoyed looking and dreaming today.. (Well, I enjoyed it. Herr Zen is not interested in the upkeep of a historic home. I need to remember to tell Maree.)

Richmond oozes photogenic history, from its picture-perfect bridge to its convict gaol that invites spooky selfies.

The intact colonial-era town has more than 50 Georgian buildings, many meticulously restored and operating as cafes, restaurants, galleries and accommodation. Richmond Bridge (1825) is the oldest bridge in Australia, doubling as a charming spot for a stroll or picnic amongst the charismatic local ducks and ducklings. Standing on a rise above this convict-built bridge is the country’s oldest surviving Catholic church: St John the Evangelist Catholic Church, built in 1837.

Richmond was an important police district between Port Arthur and Hobart during the early days of settlement, with an often dark history lurking amid the prettiness. Among the many convict tales swirling around Richmond Gaol, the oldest intact jail in Australia, is that of Isaac “Ikey” Solomon, believed to be the model for Charles Dickens’ infamous Oliver Twist character, Fagin.

Well, real estate-wise, it’s a bit of a bust today. We drove back to our little house in Allen’s Rivulet. Strike that. Herr Zen drove us back to Allen’s Rivulet. I have yet to drive our car. But that changed this afternoon.

I found a nice two mile hike in Sandfly, with parking right before the main highway. Herr Zen wanted a nap, so he gave me the keys and told me to wake him up for dinner when I got back. I opened the gate, then got in our wide SUV and adjusted the mirrors.

Well. Now it’s time to start the car and back out of the carport. Hmm. I can do this. I’ve driven since I was sixteen. And this is an automatic, not a manual, so at least I don’t have to shift with the wrong arm.

The parking brake stymied me briefly, but I figured it out without having to wake Herr Zen. I spun out a little on the gravel pulling out of the driveway, but got the hang of the heavier proportions by the time I hit the main road.

If you’ve never driven on the other side of the road, it’s a bit of a concentration drain. I have to leave the music off so I can concentrate, and every fifteen seconds or so I remind myself I’m in the driver’s seat and I’m on the correct side of the road if I’m next to the middle line. Stay next to the middle line. Look over your right shoulder out the window, there’s the middle line. (If you can see grass, YOU’RE ON THE WRONG SIDE OF THE ROAD! Move left immediately. IMMEDIATELY!) When I turn the corner, I make sure that I’m back on the center line. It’s monotonous, but it works like a charm. So far.

I approached the turn in for the parking lot, feeling pretty confident and victorious. I flipped on the blinker to indicate and the windshield wipers started frantically fanning across the dry, dusty windshield. Damn it. Rookie mistake. The indicators are on the opposite side of the steering column. Fortunately, only one car witnessed my faux pas.

The hike was worth the drive. I hit it right at sunset. According to the webpage, there are trout in the river and platypus (platypussae? platypusses? whatever) play by the rocks. Nope. Not visible today. But I did enjoy the fresh air, the roar of the water, the cliffs and the crossing full of little boulders.

I didn’t cross - it was just for horses. Tasmania must have the most sure footed horses in the WORLD. Look at that crossing and the cliffs. Ugh. I think I’d have to turn around if faced with that on horseback. I am clearly not settler material.

In spite of having the wrong shoes - tennis shoes do not work well on round rocks, I need some hiking boots for my next walk - I drove home at a sedate speed. Plenty of time to try the hard stuff later. The goal is for me to practice in the rental before we pick up our new Subaru Outback. The more driving I do, the less possibility of wrecking our new car the first week we have it.

I happily turned the keys over to the man for the drive to the pub for dinner. That’s enough for one day. I need an extra hard cider to calm my nerves, so he’s designated driver tonight.

It’s getting easier! Being mobile will help, I think. Here’s a video of part of the walk. Pristine! And restful. But no platypus. Drat.