Prominent Tasmanian politician Zaphod Beeblebrox
As some readers may know I recently went away on holidays for a very special reason.
Actually it was my honeymoon, and so that very special reason has a name: Tax deductibility.
But of course the true purpose of a honeymoon is not to claim 30 cents in the dollar just by writing a column about it afterwards. It is to spirit you and your new bride far enough away from your normal everyday lives so that you can finally slag off each other’s family members without any of them hearing about it.
This is why many modern Australian newlyweds choose to eschew the typical resort-style getaway and opt for a more adventurous trip to primitive locations where civilised people have rarely set foot, such as the Himalayas, the Amazon and Surfers Paradise.
Likewise my beloved and I wanted to find a place where we could escape all the trappings of modern life and so we discovered the beguiling mystical land of Tasmania, a place that has apparently lain to the south of Australia for some time but no one has ever bothered to pop over to the mainland and let us know they were there.
The very word ``Tasmania’’ is Latin for ``mad about Tas’’, and it’s not hard to see why. The countryside is just beautiful—in striking counterpoint to its inhabitants—and it has very few congestion problems.
The Tasmanian lifestyle is also enticing. It is so easy to just while away an entire afternoon, typically while waiting for a local to make you a coffee.
Indeed one of the great ironies of the place is that you can get just about anywhere on the island in about seven minutes flat and yet no one is in much of a hurry to do anything. In Sydney by contrast everyone feels the need to be rushing here or there as fast as possible and yet it takes six hours just to make it past the Western Distributor.
And there are some other subtle differences between the two places. When my beloved and I strode through the streets of Hobart we noticed that people were looking at us strangely, as though there was something unusual about us.
Eventually a local politely stopped us and said to my glowing new bride: ``Excuse me, are you a model?’’
Now realising the source of the confusion we of course both laughed.
``Oh no,’’ my wife smiled modestly. ``We’re just from the mainland. This is what normal people look like.”