Interlude: Istanbul, Turkey is the only city in the world located on two continents.
Much has happened since our trip to Walls of Jerusalem, it's difficult to organise my excited five year old-esque train of thought into any chronological order. The weeks slip by at an alarming rate thanks to frenetic lectures,
Hobart excursions and study flurries. The temperature has plummeted, the shorts have disappeared from the legs of the populous, and the trees have turned the most beautiful shades of sunset,
something that Auckland seems to lack entirely in it's summer-straight-to-winter transition. Huddy and I had the pleasure of enjoying the autumn countryside about 3 weeks ago when we drove up to Launceston, in the far north, for a day trip. I was allowed to drive, so needless to say, was a very happy camper. The clinical school in Launceston put on a case presentation day for medical students and general practitioners.Interlude: This is a video I was sent that I found fascinating. Have a look by clicking here
It was poorly advertised so that only six first years managed to attend, Huddy and myself included. It was well worth the two hour drive. Patients with particularly interesting and unusual cases were pulled off the wards from all around Tasmania and packed into rooms for us to poke, prod and palpate. Accompanying each patient was a GP who walked us through the case and answered our basic questions. I was the only first year student in my group, so I watched quietly as the fourth and fifth year kids gave their
cautious opinions and diagnoses. I did, however, get to have a listen through the stethoscope at a creaky lung, a feel of a elastic disorder that affected the skin, a prod of a large gentleman's abdomen, and duly impressed the entire room (including the patient) by fitting all
four knuckles into my mouth when the doctor claimed that three was usually the most people managed. This boosted my confidence no end, although I felt a little bad given the patient watching could barely manage two knuckles in her mouth as she had suffered from severe arthritis from the age of two. The sight of earnest and professional-looking med students stuffing knuckles into their mouths did make her smile and even if we could do little for her in terms of her illness, we could do that.Interlude: Did you know that the Tasmananian Devil is one of only two surviving carnivorous marsupials? (Credit goes to Dave and Jen for this one). The other living one is the bandicoot.
The case presentations were duly followed by a magnificent roast lunch. to say that the starving students stampeded the buffet like bulls at red flags would be a substantial understatement. The room was deathly silent and no attention at all was given to the poor guest
speaker who preached to students (the poorest members of society) about investing wisely and managing financial portfolios. In the time it took him to wrap up his speech, Huddy eliminated three extra large servings of cream chocolate cake and cheese cake. As the applause started for the speaker, he was well into the cheese, fruit and berries whilst I was making the most of the real coffee. Such a change from nescafe! The trip home to Hobart was, needless to say, slow and relaxing. Huddy introduced me to some local Australian bands and the car struggled under the extra weight of our bellies. Sick patients, a great meal, financial advice, and a trip to Launceston all sponsored by a medical insurance company. Who ever said there was no such thing as a free lunch?This brings us up to ANZAC weekend. Three days of freedom. For Jen, Huddy and myself, this equated to two days of study and one day of fun in the form of a day trip to Port Arthur. About one and a half hours south east of Hobart, Port Arthur is a historic settlement used in the early colonial days as,
essentially, a prison camp. Of course there were no physical barriers to escaping, and few guards. After all, in Tasmania, where would you go? In fact, as far as prison settlements go, Port Arthur was not to be sneezed at. Nestled in a beautiful harbor and surrounded by gently rolling hills, the now only partially standing buildings hint at the once lovely village that was once there. The convicts were all put to work, whilst the young boys were put on an island close by and schooled in various trades, often giving them a better life than that they had previously lived in England. The crimes for which many convicts were shipped to Tasmania were shockingly trivial, with such misdemeanors as stealing 5 pounds or bread from the bakery. The most alarming thing was the graveyard island in the photo below. On this small island (and yes, it is as small as it looks) are berried no fewer than 1000 bodies.
Of course life in Port Arthur was not always a charm and the prisoners were worked hard and relentlessly. The hospital was appalling even for its day and the "rooms" therein were only just large enough to fit one man lying down. The patients were stacked, like in cubby holes, an environment neither conducive to good health nor useful in stopping the spread of infection. Perhaps this is why there are so many bodies on graveyard island. It is also said that a young girl, long dead, wanders Port Arthur at night, unwilling to leave. Ghost tours are run every day there and whilst we did not partake in one, we tried hard to spot unusual beings. Word on the street is that they often show up in photographs. Most of the photos I've posted in this post are from Port Arthur, so let me know if you see any ghosties in them!
More interesting to me, however, was Port Arthur's more recent history. On Apil 28, 1996, Martin Bryant entered Port Arthur with a semi automatic and wandered the site, mowing down and killing 35 tourists and staff, injuring 37 others. The worst massacre Australia has ever seen. Since then, of course, conspiracy theories have spread like wildfire and many claim Martin was framed, was forced to do it by spiritual beings, or simply innocent. Whatever the case may be, to know it happened made Port Arthur an eerie place to be, compounding the site's already rich history. The trip there and back was, luckily, a little less sombre and we stopped off for a quick dip in the (chilling) Tasmanian waters and to check out the Tasmanian arch pictured.
Interlude: Your skeleton keeps growing until you are about 35, then you start to shrink. Sorry Mike.
Otherwise, life here in Hobart has been moving steadily forward. I am forever discovering
stylish cafes, cool nooks and good viewpoints around the city. The oldest casino in Australia has been visited, the harbor defense cannons explored, and Salamanca markets experienced many times. I was spoiled silly on my birthday, with blueberry pancakes, chocolate dipped strawberries,
fish and chips and a tour of the local wine region where we chatted lengthily with the owners of a boutique winery and played with their 8 month old daughter and 2 year old son whilst sampling their pinot noire and enjoying a local cheese platter. Huddy baked me a cake and a half (see the photo) which tasted every bit as good as it looked. Later that night I was shouted a few too many drinks and truth be told, I remember little of what happened thereafter. I'm guessing this is just as well.That more or less brings you up to date. Back once more to the couch, the woolly socks and the puffy jacket. What's left of the hot chocolate is now cold and alarmingly, there is only a fragment of the 70% cocoa chocolate left on the table. Time to get to bed. I'm 23 now and far too old for these late nights. With that, I will leave you with a few oppertunistic photos I've snapped with my cell phone. Until next time.
