Sleeping under the stars

I had forgotten how remote much of Tassie is. No wonder they thought it was a great place to dump my convict relatives. Now I get a little stressed when I can’t find a shop to get water (so have to drink tonic minus gin instead), get halfway across a thick forest and realise the Miriam machine churns through fuel, and am not sure where in the hell I am, as there is no mobile coverage. Spare a thought for fair skinned, brown haired, hazel eyed seventeen-year-old Harriet. She arrived on Christmas day 1843 aboard a hellhole of a convict ship and was pushed through the streets with 203 other women to the Cascades Factory.
My biggest stress was finding a park at the Woollies in Sorell for more tonic and fig and olive artisan crackers. My grandmother Harriet’s stress would have been – OMG, where am I and will I die?
I headed up the convict trail through the beautiful towns of Richmond, Oatlands, and Ross. I am sure Harriet was lucky to get bread and water, but I am modeling myself on Miriam. Of course, I stopped at the wood-fired convict bakery in the lovely town of Ross and stuffed a scallop pie in my mouth.
Turned the Miriam machine to the East Coast via Rocky Hills to stomp on the grounds of the badly behaved Henry. The drive took me through the most beautiful but remote landscape. I have no idea how grandfather Henry managed to walk it, as it took me hours in a fuel-guzzling beast. Romantically, I imagine Henry building the stunning colonial bridges dotting the landscape. However, I think he was much more likely out in leg irons cutting roads through the forests that the Miriam machine now travels.
As I watched the fuel gauge drift lower and lower, I had a moment, as no fuel stations for hours. As I edged into the little fuel station in Scamander, I breathed a sigh of relief. I did a turnaround back to the south along the coast. Then another turnaround to the lovely St Helen’s where gin got added to the tonic, and I slept amongst the crashing waves dreaming of my convict past.

The ever sensible Virginia reminded me that if I was going to emulate the fantastic Miriam Margolyes and drive around Australia in a campervan, I needed to dress like her. Virginia reinforced woolly socks and runners, so I sit here resplendent just like Miriam.
I am a camping sort of gal. Well, camping under 5 stars in a swish hotel. Maybe swish hotel pre-COVID as many swish hotels seem to be now little SARS CoV – 2 incubators (especially if you are a tennis star).
So, I was channel flicking a few weeks ago and saw Miriam in her campervan driving the length and breadth of this great country. Miriam was born in 1941, so I did think if Miriam can do this, I can too. I did sort of forget that Miriam had a camera crew and entourage, and probably a chef and hair and makeup. I also forgot Miriam is a wee bit shorter and less likely to whack her head on the roof of a campervan, BUT here I am. Oh, Miriam – what fun this is.
I had my first flight with the kangaroo on my tail for over a year, and I think the pilot was a bit out of practice. Landing at Hobart airport was definitely not smooth. A short Uber to the campervan getting place. The Uber driver was such a lovely man. Had a master’s in hotel management and an MBA. Lost his job at a hotel in Sydney with the COVID crisis. Now driving an Uber in Tassie.
A bit of a wait for the van, but watching a video re how to drive the thing eased my nerves a bit.
Hit the road and realised it is easier than driving a car as you can see so much. Helps that it is auto with cruise control and all the other bits.
Headed south on the convict trail to wonderful Port Arthur. Sort of forgot too that there is not much between Port Arthur and Antarctica – OMG, it was cold. I did think that Miriam would always carry a brolly, so I was very pleased I brought mine.
I set up camp and cooked a lovely dinner – a fat wombat and a group of pademelons watched me from amongst the tree ferns. I have really forgotten how beautiful Tasmania is (and how cold).

After a few days of the most gorgeous people imaginable, I felt like I needed another dose of European fairy tales. My Taurean need for beauty has been slightly challenged by Russian, spy ship hotels so I have been looking lovingly over the water at Tallinn in Estonia. Everyone has told me that if I want fairy tales, Tallinn is the place.  It was an easy tram ride to the ship terminal (did I say how good the Finnish public transport is), and then on to the luxury of the Megastar for my trip to Estonia. I was surrounded by Alex’s country people who started stockpiling bottles and bottles of alcohol of every type the minute we boarded. Checking the prices, after the cost in Finland, very understandable. I think even I might do some shopping on the way back.

Tallinn was really the stuff of fairy tales, but maybe more Rapunzel than Cinderella. I had the loveliest walk through the old town and then stopped for lunch and the largest cider ever. Arriving back into the Port of Helsinki the super-efficient public transport system kicked in again. Within twenty minutes of disembarking I was tucked up in bed thinking of Virginia – Yes, Say Yes to the Dress in Finnish. Virginia would love it!

I don’t even know how to begin to describe the fantastic Helsinki library. The Wi-Fi in the spy thriller hotel has been driving me nuts. It lasts about five minutes and then it cuts off and you get all of these warnings about people trying to steal your identify and everything else. If the phone wifi works, the computer doesn’t. It has been a challenge to try and get any work done but that is where Oodi comes in. I do love a good library and often work in them somewhere in the world, but this one was just amazing. Not terribly amazing for old women but amazing all the same. The building has large curves all through it, so people lie around on the steep curved pine floor that reminded me of a sinking Titanic, or on concrete steps where you sit cross legged with your laptop on your knee. There are lovely mid-century type chairs that sit precariously on the sloping ship deck. There are prams everywhere, screaming children, people sewing, binding books, playing computer games, and sleeping in the sun streaming through the massive Titanic glass structure. I loved the communal sewing machines and the young people bringing their mending in to do. They call it a library, but the subtitle is Helsinki’s community living room. It was definitely that. Oodi fits with the whole philosophy of Finnish culture. Now the buildings might not be beautiful (except for Oodi) but the focus on education, childcare, and health and well-being is inspiring.

I eventually found a sort of conventional desk to work at in one of the lovely coffee shops but felt boringly conservative so packed up, sat on the steps and worked on my knee. The problem was that the people watching was far more interesting than the work and even there, the spies played havoc with my Wi-Fi.

Kristina flew with me to Helsinki where I was doing a keynote at a conference. I don’t know what I was expecting but I think I had this total misconception that Helsinki would be beautiful because the people are so wonderful. I thought Kristina was being negative as she kept telling me how much she dislikes it. Well I am not sure.

After fairy tale, picture perfect spots in all of Europe and fantastic London, Helsinki was a bit of a surprise. It is very grey. Large imposing buildings that reminded me of some of the architecture in China. A bit foreboding and austere.

The hotel that we stayed in was near the station and was a large, and now as I have got used to it, cool, but very austere building that from the outside resembles a large, grey, Russian ship. I keep forgetting that I am so very close to Russia, so I am really not sure why the architecture has surprised me. The austere exterior was carried through to the inside. I did feel like I was caught up in some Russian spy thriller with the original black phone on the very utilitarian desk. I fell into bed and dreamed of submarines and the Hunt for Red October.

When I woke after sleeping in a super comfortable bed, I started to see the cool 1950s architecture and the amazing light fittings and furniture. Yes, all very austere but Jan would love it. Vinyl everywhere and very upright leather, but very 50s stylish seating around the walls in the lobby.

Whilst Helinski has that austere feeling to it, there is nothing austere about the prices. Oh my goodness, it is so expensive. I have just had to close my eyes and wave my card. It has been good for my liver though, as decided paying $40 for more than one G&T was more than my poor dilapidated bank balance could manage. I was keen to try just one of the fabulous Finnish gins with berries and rosemary and it was worth it because of the dark, foreboding bar that made my spy thriller imagination run completely wild.

Finnair was my introduction to Scandi cool. The cleanest plane I have ever seen. Even Mark wouldn’t have had to have the wipes out. There is something about pristine flight attendants that I find reassuringly calming. I always feel the slightest bit nervous on American airlines with tracksuit wearing staff. Nothing about appearance and nothing wrong with a tracksuit, just the Finnair navy military like (but oh so stylish) uniforms made me feel I was very safe.

Although Finland is so close, it still took me about ten hours to get to Oulu. I did have to remind myself  that I was only an hour or so drive from Santa’s home and the Arctic Circle. Three hours to Helsinki and then an airport wait, and then another hour or so flight to Oulu.

I have become quite used to the excellent English of the Finns. They are quite funny really as everyone starts every conversation the same way. Multiple apologies in perfect English for their poor English. Kristina who has hosted me in Finland tells me Finnish women apologise for being alive. I did tell them at my keynote address to stop it.

Oulu is a nice small city with a lovely park. Lots of bikes and felt like an easy place to live. The Finnish city architecture is not at all inspiring (well except for Oodi but more about that later) but the absolutely warm and lovely people make up for it. From the lovely taxi driver waiting patiently at the airport for me, to everyone everywhere – they are all just so lovely. Evie would have been excited as I am sure Santa drove my cab a few times. Lovely older men with the bushiest grey beards and twinkly eyes.

The real stand out in Oulu (apart from fantastic work) was the lovely Lapland hotel. There were reindeers everywhere, including on the menu. When I arrived, I got offered a nice stick of reindeer meat – OMG I cannot eat Rudolph. It was on pizza, and in every meal. Thankfully, I had some of the most stunning vegetarian food that I have ever eaten in the restaurant and did add some amazing salmon one night in a lovely French place that my wonderful colleagues took me to. Work was wonderful as again; the nicest people had flown in from interesting parts of Europe. I left feeling super motivated.

My flight from London to Oulu was long but super easy. I am not sure what happens with suitcases, but they just seem to get heavier and heavier despite minimal – hmmm maybe I did go a bit overboard with Fiona’s jam in Paris – shopping. I have been in and out of London a few times and have stayed at the very convenient Kings Cross Hub so I left half the bags there and would be mightily pleased if I don’t see them again (jam also decanted and I think my sister might want that).

I like the Hubs – tiny rooms, but fantastically creative storage and the most comfortable beds you could ever sleep in. London is not the cheapest city in the world so for the convenience of being so central they are fabulous. I have stayed in Goodge Street a few times and just love Fitzrovia, but think I might have found my new favourite address. This time I stayed just down the side of King’s Cross. Really convenient as an easy 5-minute walk to the station so has been simple to go in different directions. The area is growing and is so fascinating.

It seemed silly to have to do a cab and then the Heathrow Express so just jumped on the Piccadilly Line straight to Heathrow. Once we got out of the main tube stations it was fine – off to the land of Santa and reindeers

I have been overcome with a strong desire to kiss the ground in the last few weeks but last night it was the washing machine. Oh what a totally wonderful sight. After my Irish fuel issues, I eventually got back to London in the middle of the after-work madness. From Gatwick to London, collected the damn bags (wanted to throw them in the Thames) and then the cross-country expedition to Newark and then Lincoln. The first train was one of the lovely new LNER European style trains, the second was the lovely, character filled country single carriage train to Lincoln that rattled endlessly.

Staggered off the train with the damn bags and an easy walk to my totally wonderful new home. Well might be my temporary new home, but I could easily move in permanently tomorrow and I wouldn’t need to buy a single thing. They look after you so well at the University of Lincoln and while it was disappointing to miss Jan and John, the welcome here is almost as good as Ireland. My lovely apartment is huge and beautifully appointed. I am a bit of a fan of Tesco and there is a little Tesco over the road, a sublime washing machine, a lovely stroll to my office, a lovely EA in the office and Netflix – life couldn’t get much better

Well I had the funniest Irish 24 hours. Arrived into Dublin reasonably late in the day and stayed at the lovely Hotel 7 in the centre of the city. Dublin is such a tourist city. There were Americans everywhere and lots of singing of Irish tunes. The Pogues were blaring out of shops and Guinness was running freely. I needed to find some cash as the parking meters only took coins. I must have visited ever single ATM in Dublin before a lovely man explained why they were all out of order. Seems it is a regular occurrence every Sunday night when the machines run out of cash. I climbed back up to the hotel and managed to do an Irish deal to get the precious coins I needed. Of course I had some evil UK currency but I might as well have been trying to pay with rocks.

I strolled out on Monday morning and thought I had walked into some sort of major incident. Well I had, sort of. Boris was in town. I have never ever seen so many men with guns. I stayed well clear and left Dublin headed North again. I got to the airport in plenty of time (thank goodness). I pull up at a brand new fuel station that was self-pay. I put my credit card in and it was rejected. Went through four credit cards all refused. They don’t take cash. I thought it must be the pump. Moved the car to a different spot and then started the whole process again. Still rejected. In desperation I picked up the phone. In the broadest Irish accent ever – ‘oh no luv – we haven’t had time to fix the machines, so they take those foreign cards. The kids have been sick, the wife is tired and I really need to lay off the whiskey’ – Oh I just need to get fuel. He sent me up the road a few miles. By this time I was getting a little angsty about my flight. I found the fuel station, handed over my credit card – oh no – he looked at my card and then the whole Kenny discussion started again. I managed to escape but obviously there was a problem with Easy Jets credit card too – some raving message about no fuel, a flight delay and to have a drink – I literally only understood half of it, the accent was so strong. What a lovely time I had.

My beautiful, temporary little vehicle was turned South. Like a typical Aussie, I planned to see the whole of Ireland in a weekend. I left Limerick and ended up in the main street of Killarney. What a cool place. It looked like a film set from some corny Irish movie, with the main street swung with bunting and Irish pipes blaring. What is clear in Ireland is the people are just fantastic. I have never felt so welcome anywhere. People just talk to you non-stop – standing at the ATM an intense conversation, queuing at the loo, more great conversation, wandering aimlessly,  accosted for half an hour to hear about the relatives in Killarney, Victoria. Made the mistake of saying that I had family in Killarney, Australia who came from the South in Ireland – a three-hour conversation, with everyone on the street pulled into it asking me whether I knew the Murphy’s and every other Irish surname ever known. OMG I made the mistake (when I was asked) and gave my surname  – oh dear they started again. I finally turned the car to the Ring of Kerry after being invited to stay by random people in the street. The drive was lovely. Of course, the Irish weather turned in 5 minutes and I found myself on steep hills completely surrounded by mist. As I stood on ancestral lands my imagination ran wild. I couldn’t see two feet in front of me and then all of a sudden, the sun would break through, with great shards of light. I was totally convinced I could see deannaigh fairy rising from the mounds – I am sure the wee siog were hiding, desperate for a chat.