Overseas – or straits
The year kicked off with overseas travel, said sea being more correctly a strait, but what’s the difference anyway? It was a body of water, I was on a plane, and I was going somewhere... Where? Hobart. To work at a festival called MONA FOMA. The Museum of Old and New Art, Festival of Music and Art (or MOFO as it’s known), is associated with MONA, the new 'world class' gallery located in a vineyard at Moorilla (a 30 minute drive from central Hobart), housing the private collection of one of Australia's richest guys – David Walsh. A mathematician who’s made squillions in professional gambling, he's also an anti-establishment egalitarian and atheist who wants to bring challenging, confronting (and often banned or controversial) art to the masses, for free.
MOFO 2011 was a nine day music festival featuring performances from Phillip Glass, Grinderman, KYU, PVT, DJ KENTARO, Health, The Cruel Sea, Speak Percussion and other such diverse sounds, followed by the MONA grand opening (a party for 2500 general punters and 500 VIPs) and an opening weekend of bands, art installations, more VIPs, food, drink and huge queues. Queues with my staff pass I could skip. David's philanthropy extended to inviting us (the front of house staff) for beers (his own 'Moo' not suitable for bogans brand beer), and with the only bottle opener in the house he insisted he crack all the tops himself. It was surreal, after a fortnight of interviews, VIPs, and celebratory press coverage of this completely loaded, socially awkward, but astutely subversive, long-haired man to see him pop the cap off a beer and pass it to me after just having told the last staffer who thanked him to 'be less polite' and 'f*ck off'.
Starting most days after 4pm, I had plenty of time to explore Hobart. My first hot tip was that 'the only coffee' was at Villino's. It was true, and from there, the remainder of tips came from a local who on seeing my map asked 'here for the statistics convention?'. Once 'no' was established, he proceeded to tell me where to go and what to do. Tricycle at Salamanca Place for lunch. Princes Park at Battery Point for views of the Derwent. Bellerieve by water taxi for frolicking dolphins. Soldier's Walk above the Domain for early morning misty runs, North Hobart and the Alley Cat for the cool kids. The air was fresh and the food, delicious and Hobart pretty quickly became my new mini-break destination of choice.
The people. Well the people are interesting. Girls don't have the thick legs of myth. And they dress fashionably with the exception of their footwear, which is ostensibly ugg-based. Men wear Crocs, Oakleys, D&G leather belts and Piaget watches and talk about 'the coalface', vintage wine and cutting edge art. I was told 'we have hipsters here' and that the scene is less insular than Melbourne. The main rivalry is between Launy (Launceston) and Hobart, which means that all of Hobart tends to pull together in support of its artists. 'They're local!' I heard expressed a number of times with immense pride at All Fires the Fire – a band on the bill being likened to New Order.
In an endeavour to save money, I was staying in a dorm at a hostel and as it had been a while, found it a novelty. With half the country under water and after four years of Melbourne water saving-style shower heads, I even enjoyed the discovery that the shower shot water like an untamed garden hose. And I can testify that your raspberries and blueberries are still being picked by young, wide-eyed, blonde Germans. All of whom saw fruit picking as an important part of their great Aussie experience and thankfully left them too tired for snoring.
Hobart's architecture contains a lot in a small space: retro, quaint, colonial, mercantile, it's all there.