A life of luxury

After three weeks of hitch-hiking, free food and sleeping on couches and squeeky bunk beds, it was hard saying no to a double bed and a 3-course meal with a view. An amazingly cool chick called Anne took me on a roadtrip from Strahan to Mount Field national park. We spent all day driving and hiking. Exhausted and looking like hobos we arrived in Maydena where we stopped at the first accommodation we saw. A lovely lady showed us around our HOUSE with four bedrooms and the biggest garden I've ever seen. The house came with room service. I wanted to look all sophisticated so I showed her my credit card without blinking. I don't want to think about how much I spent. All I know is I had the best sleep in ages and ate delicious food on our terrace overlooking our park sized garden.

Hiking like a real hiker: Cradle Mountain

A tour bus picked me up from the side of the road in Burnie and drove me to Cradle Mountain. Happy as a little chicklet I posed with overenthusiastic American tourists for photoshoots on every lookout and listened to their stories about life on a cruise ship. I waved them goodbye as we arrived at the Cradle Mountain visitor center, where I met up with Taiwanese friends. We hiked the whole day and loved the gorgeous views. It was a perfect Monday, with blue skies and lots of wombats.

When the night fell, feet got cold and possums freaked me out. I don't like them for one bit. They wait in a dark corner for you to go outside and then just scare the pants off of you. So I decided to stay in the backpackers kitchen where I ended up having a funny tea party with travelers from all over the world.

The next day I drove to Strahan with Martin, a French guy with an accent that makes you want to wear a beret an ride your bike with baguettes under your arm. Strahan appeared to be a tiny town where mostly old people come for a visit. Only old people really. So we bought lots of wine and meat and had a barbecue party that rocked the town.

Look mommy, I'm a farmer!

Oh how I enjoyed staying on a farm in teeny tiny Flowerdale. I couchsurfed Sue and Max' lovely farm for five days and let me tell you, there is no better place on earth. Imagine waking up to a view of nothing but green fields and happy cows every morning. Then head to the kitchen where home made porridge is waiting for you. While you find yourself a nice place in the sun to read your book, you pick some juicy pieces of fruit from the trees next to the house. Sue would look for all kinds of veggies from the garden to prepare a colourful salad for lunch. Then you can help Max out in the nursery, where music is played and smiles are generous. In the afternoon, cows need to be milked and the ocean needs to be snorkled. So you head to one of the gorgeous beaches on the North-West coast. Sweet peaches taste best on salty lips. And there's plenty of them in Flowerdale.

Life as a poor traveler is bloody good.

Tales of a blue ass

While couchsurfing in Burnie, my host Pat and his cousins proudly showed me the rope swing they constructed. I jumped in a wetsuit and acted all Tarzan and swung in the river. Well, not really IN the water, more like on a rock. Result: yet another line for the 'awkward moments in my life' list and the left part of my ass turning into all colours of the rainbow. I would love to show you how spectacular it looked, but it's damn hard to take a picture of your own behind.

After that truly wonderful adventure, me and my blue ass decided to visit Stanley, hang out on the beach and take pictures of doors.

Pretty little thing

Hobart. What can I say about Hobart? The capital of Tasmania is a port town with expensive seafood and an ice skate rink in the middle of summer. But most of all, it's pretty. And I don't feel any love for pretty things. I have a long term romance with ugly stuff. Because too much ugliness is barely enough. And if you don't agree with that, you ain't half as hip as you think you are.

I like London, Berlin, Glasgow, Bangkok and oh how I love Brussels. The Belgian capital is about as beautiful as a lump of coal, but it's full of rock 'n roll. Not for the faint harted. Hobart has no edges, no garbage, no rats, no dark alleys, no grey industrial areas, no clandestine whisky drinking. It's just another town sitting there, being lovely. While Brussels is swearing like a trooper, Hobart is a true lady. And I'm not.

Mona Foma

When the center of Hobart bursts at the seams with art, you know you're in the right place at the right time for Mona Foma. This Festival Of Music and Art was the most cultural start of my Tassie trip I could have wished for. There was eighties music as well as dub step dj's and lots of hipster things happening. The time span did pose a serious dilemma about how to style my hair.

Spanish band Los Coronas made me dance my legs off, as did Pretty Lights at the shed party. There was an orchestra that played music for one of my favourite books of all times: 'The Arrival' by Shaun Tan. They made me shiver and melted my heart. And Aussie band Graveyard Train knocked my socks off. Six men playing men's instruments just as they were born to do. I'm all about that.