Oh Mona (Hobart)

Embarrassing, I know dear reader. I am sure you think me far too cultured to even contemplate using a Craig McLachlan reference as a title for one of my posts (Check 1, 2 - Google it, but use Incognito. You wouldn't want that to appear in your browser history). However, you are mistaken. After almost 200 posts it is becoming increasingly challenging to find song references to title a post that have yet to be used. So, yes, I'm going for the easy option. That doesn't mean I'm cheap. This prattle is not taking us to the events of the day.

The day began as usual. Sydney trying emulate Melbourne: drizzle. The only difference is we have HUMIDITY! Awesome. Did all the usuals and headed downstairs for a cab. The first two ignored us - they obviously saw the bags and didn't fancy a trip to the airport. The third stopped for us and was listening to AM radio - bad vibes. He had a Slavic accent and wanted to engage us in a discussion about what Trump would do for Australia. At this point I had two different visions, one was lay back and think of England and the other was of PM Turnbull bending over ... anyway, he scored no response from either of us in trying to elicit love for The Donald. I wonder what Jane Austen would have made of Trump? Probably nothing because she was too myopic to look beyond herself. In fact, she would qualify as a Gen Y or Z.

The trek through the beeping machines was relatively benign and I didn't even get tested for explosives. It was quiet. No crowds and no queues. We headed straight for the Qantas Lounge to be stopped at the door. "I'm sorry, madam is wearing thongs. There are some sales on downstairs. perhaps you purchase a change of footwear?". Or we could wait with the plebs. Neither of us had thought of this archaic regulation when getting ready this morning. So as we descended the escalator as a family came the other way. they had no trouble gaining entry. It appears filthy battered joggers and ripped jeans are OK but thongs are not. The last place I was refused entrance was a wanky (no, I didn't mean swanky, although they thought they were) restaurant in Dallas. They didn't like denim.

It was still raining heavily as we boarded the plane and we sat on the apron for a while waiting to take off. The weather had restricted air traffic to one runway. The flight itself was fine and they made good time getting down to Tassie. While flicking through the inflight magazines I came across a photo of Todd Giltinan, ex-school captain at Gilroy. Nice.

There was a nice puppy waiting at the airport in Hobart that ran around sniffing people as they got off the plane. His handler then allowed him to play on the luggage carousel! A domestic flight from Sydney, on a Friday morning, did it really contain a drug fiend? Apparently the answer is no. Although the dog caused much amusement amongst the waiting passengers as it paused momentarily at the bags as they went passed.

We collected the car, a Kia Sportage; we were upgraded. I didn't have the heart to tell her that I didn't consider a Kia an upgrade to anything. Then it was off to MONA, once Jayne had organised a GPS map on her phone. Our upgraded Kia experience does not have a GPS.

The entrance to MONA. The museum is nderground

MONA is the Museum of Old and New Art and is about 20 minutes drive from the centre of Hobart. It is set on the Derwent River on the wines estate Moorilla and has a very tidy restaurant called Source - we will probably eat there at the other end of this trip. The MONA website https://mona.net.au provides all the necessary history, basically it is about taking the piss out of the art establishment. And it does this with alacrity. Picture a series of plaster casts of ... um ... female genitalia, they use the 'c' word. There is a dispute over the number, I thought there were 77, Jayne 72, but what's 5 vaginas between friends? It is interesting to stand quietly in a corner and watch the reactions when people suddenly comprehend what they are seeing. Sorry dear reader there are no pictures of this display, although some of the images are burned into the back of my brain. Best not to ask.

The basic premise of the major exhibit is that art is all about sex. Who wants to argue? Gentle reader your perspicacious nature will allow you to know on what side of that debate I stand. There were a number of exhibits that used human skin and other recreations of other body parts to create more familiar objects - sometimes with startlingly unsettling impact. I offer the following photos without comment, although they look much better in real life.

Yes it's a horse, made from human skin

The Sphinx - made from skin and fat

Human parts reused in the natural world.

The main exhibition was contained in four separate areas as each person provided their perspective on the link between art and sex. Some of it was just 'art' about sex. I believe some may refer to this as porn. Some of it was amusing, some whimsical, some incomprehensible and some was just, well, porn. Not that there's anything wrong with that. If art and theatre are meant to be confronting and I believe they are, then this exhibit has certainly hit the mark. It was not for the faint hearted or little children, but that didn't deter the punters from bringing them in vast number, from squawking, bawling toddlers to disinterested youngsters and they really stopped their minders from doing what the art works required, which was to look at them in detail and move beyond your own unease. One of my favourites was a series of 23 sardine tins that had sculptured above each one an Australian plant and in the tin below were depictions of penises or sex acts. Fascinating. Just coming up with ideas is quite amazing - but that is a discussion for another time.

The entire room was black and yellow

Water droplets created words as they fell

I have no idea - but if it was a shirt I'd wear it.

As we wandered past the vaginas, the penises, the statue of the ejaculating manga character and depictions of a variety of sex acts - some impossible for a person of my advanced years - I couldn't help but think what a very poor choice MONA would be for a first date. As the young people say on social media: awkward. In the extreme I would suggest.

We spent about 4 hours at MONA and could have stayed longer but we needed to check into our accommodation before 5pm. Jayne expertly navigated us to Hobart with only one minor issue. We ended up on the wrong side of the Derwent at one point. The amount of information they put on some road signs is difficult to absorb in the time you have to drive past it and some of their road movements are counter intuitive.  No harm done, the peak traffic period lasts less time than summer in England.

Our accommodation is at Sullivan Cove and it's very nice. We have a spacious loft apartment and everything is within walking distance. Once we began to unpack we discovered the full impact of the Sydney morning rain. I knew our bags were wet when I collected them at the airport, but I didn't realise they were wet through. Between the two of us we have around 5 dry articles of clothing! I've had my bags get wet before, but nothing like this. I have sent an email to Qantas customer care so we'll see if customer care is an ironic title soon enough.

After a bottle of wine on the balcony we felt much refreshed, although the clothes festooned through our apartment are a constant reminder that we have very limited clothing options in the short term. Fortunately we didn't require a change of outfit for dinner and meandered over to Smolt in Salamanca Square. Smolt is one of those restaurants where it takes ages to decide what to eat because there are TOO many delightful choices. In an unfortunate turn of events they delivered an entree to our table we had not ordered. When we pointed this out they apologised and said well, you may as well have it on the house. Zucchini flowers. Yum.

Octopus and chorizo

Passionfruit brulee and meringue

Everything was beautiful. The food was great. The service was friendly, efficient and knowledgeable and the wine list was interesting with a great selection of local wines. There are plenty of good food options in Hobart but Smolt is a must.

And that is about the end of our first day. I will endeavour to have a blog ready for you each morning my dear reader, but there are no guarantees. Until tomorrow.