Hamerstorf Morning

The New Christmas

I'm spending Christmas with my family at my parents' house, the house I grew up in. Everything seemed to be like every year until my brother arrived yesterday and we had to have the talk. About video games under the Christmas tree. Which were not appreciated last year and will not be allowed this year. 

As a compromise, he moved the living room TV to his bedroom for the duration of the week he is spending here, since this device is apparently the only one that is capable of being connected with the playstation. Now he can blow off people's heads in the privacy of his room. 

Before a different TV could be organized to fill the empty spot, however, my mum did this:

 

The TV spot filled with heaps of gifts, which, admittedly, are more decorative, there is no room left for a replacement TV, and for the first time since the beginning of time we won't be watching TV on Christmas!

But what to do instead? Talk? Play boardgames? Yesterday, we went to the Christmas market in Uelzen with the almost complete family (just one brother still missing). That was fun, especially since my parents paid for all the Glühweins and Bratwursts and sweets, AND my dad drove. But back home again, my dad still looked a bit forlorn, sitting in front of the TV spot, missing the seven o'clock news, looking at Christmas gifts instead, and listening to the radio. Since this is all the excitement that happens in our little village I promise to report about new developments in the TV crisis as soon as they arise.

And in this spirit I generically but genuinely wish everyone a merry Christmas, happy Hannukkah, and stable stomachs for the upcoming feasts.

MONA in Hobart

The MONA is a collection of "new and old art", and the main tourist attraction of Hobart, Tasmania's capital. It is privately owned by David Walsh, a professional poker player and really rich guy who has been in the (Tasmanian) news lately because the Tasmanian government changed their tax law and wanted to backdate it so that Walsh's poker winnings from the past 10 years could be taxed.

Anyway, the museum is a fun place, and Mr. Walsh seems to be obsessed with genitals. I took pictures of the works of art that touched/amused/impressed me.

I really liked Jon Pylypchuk's installation, funny little guys humping trees:

You asked me to come and see your routine, you call this a fucking routine? 2006

Jon Pylypchuk

 Also, Balint Zsako's watercolors which are full of penises and boobs:

Group of Balint Zsako Works 2006–9

Balint Zsako

 

 

This is a bike and paint.

Fahrrad mit Farbe 1995-2003

Roman Signer

These 30 Madonna fans were asked to sing one of her albums solo and a cappella. They do with such passion and facial expression that watching and listening to this must be really painful to other Madonna fans since it is massively ridiculous. I found it hilarious. Apparently, the artist did that to Michael Jackson and John Lennon as well.

 

Queen (a Portrait of Madonna) 2005

Candice Breitz

 Scary:

unwritten #8 2008

Vernon Ah Kee

 

These are real live fish. One is hiding under the knife.

Untitled 1991/2011

Jannis Kounellis

A library full of books with blank pages. They had to put up a sign so that visitors won't write into the open books on the tables.

Untitled (White Library) 2004-6

Wilfredo Prieto

Last day

Luggage storage in Melbourne is expensive and costs between $10 and $12 per day at the airport or bus terminal, and $5 - $8 per day at some hostels. Since I didn't want to bring all my stuff to Tasmania (I should have brought my dancing shoes though...) I got around these storage expenses by sending a parcel with extra clothes, dancing shoes, etc. to the Melbourne general post office, poste restante, where parcels can be picked up up to one month later. That cost me $8 in total.

So, I returned from Tasmania to Melbourne last night, and today, I had only a few hours to get my parcel, pack my backpack, meet up with friends from Germany (!), and get to the airport to fly home. But everything would be fine if the post didn't mess up. Last time I did the poste restante thing they couldn't find my parcel at first, and I had to insist on them searching for it again before they found it. But they did find it. And this time, I had sent it from Melbourne to Melbourne, so it couldn't possibly have gotten lost, right?

The lady at the mail collection counter was slightly less rude than the gentleman I dealt with last time, however, she, too, disappeared for a few minutes in the back, returned, and told me they didn't have my parcel. After insisting that a package sent from 1 km north almost one month ago surely must have reached its destination by now she went and looked again, and voilà, she found it.

This was less complicated than I expected and left me two hours happily spent with packing.

What would you do with 20 hours free of distraction?

That's how much time I'm going to spend tomorrow on flights with Thai Airways and without in-flight entertainment. And I was looking forward to seeing how many movies I could fit in during this period of time!

Go over my CV? Meditate? Write a short-story? Brush up on my French?

Unless I get an upgrade to business class I'm open to suggestions. And no, I usually don't sleep in planes.

Aussie Cuteness

Spending my last hours in Tasmania I'm delighted to overhear the locals mangle their language quite adorably. You've probably heard the Australians being called Aussies. Similarly, Tasmania becomes Tassie, Launceston is Launie, breakfast is brekkies, barbecue is barbie, and the Woolworths supermarket is Woollies :)

One week to go!

Cygnet is the name of a small town in the Huon Valley south of Hobart where I'll be spending a few days chilling and recovering from all the camping and walking excitement. Then, it's a weekend of dancing in Hobart. And after that, heat up the Gluehwein, light the candles, put the cookies in the oven, I'm coming home!

Walking Anxiety #1 - Fear of Pain

In the past 15 months I have done six multi-day walks in Scotland, England, Iceland, and Australia. On one of my last walks there were actually people looking up to me and my walking experience when I had been a rookie myself just a few months ago!

I've always liked the idea of traveling light, being able to carry everything I need, and thus figuring out what it is that I actually need. But I was in awe of people who actually walked all day long with their huge backpacks. Just thinking of a backpack gave me back pain. I have a history of back pain due to my slightly bent spine in combination with a lack of regular exercise.

Therefore, my biggest fear about walking was the fear of back pain.

I don't really know how I overcame this fear, but when Kat suggested to walk the West Highland Way I happily and adventurously agreed. Was it my love for Scotland, the challenge, or the prospect of purchasing a backpack that got me excited? Probably all of it. And it turned out that walking the West Highland Way has been one of my best vacations ever. I didn't have back pain, because I had a great backpack and didn't carry too much extra stuff (although with my current experience I'd bring even less if I was to walk it again).

I didn't get back pain, I got foot pain instead.

Not used to this kind of exertion both my Achilles tendons started to hurt on the third day and hurt for the rest of the walk. So in the end, I did experience pain, but, to my surprise, it didn't make me miserable or spoiled my walk. A few painkillers eased the pain a little bit, and I was still having a great time! Because the landscapes were still beautiful, the fellow hikers still entertaining, the pubs still warm, and the pints still cold. Being in pain while walking was way less of a problem than it had appeared to in my imagination.

Naturally, before my second multi-day walk, in England's Lake District, I was a bit worried about my feet. Reasonably worried though, not irrationally anxious. So I strengthened my ankles beforehand, regularly stretched my feet, and used walking sticks to take the pressure off my joints. This time, my feet were fine, even though the walk might have been even a bit harder at times.

So I guess it's good to question one's anxieties from time to time. Shit happens, but bad things are never as bad as you think they might be.

Walking on Freycinet Peninsular

Once the Australian walking bug had bitten me I wasn't to be stopped anymore and headed off to my next hike just a few days after the last. I took the bus to the Freycinet national park and walked a circuit with two nights camping. The pictures of the first two days turned out to be a bit misty due to smoke from bushfires in the area.

Australia is big, Tasmania is small. After one hour of walking I ran into The Boys, two gentlemen I had met on the Overland Track. Apart from them I didn't see many people, especially once I left the day use area. I ended up at Cooks Beach where there was only one other person, who I had a nice chat with and who shared some of his candy-snakes with me. Later, another couple joined us at the campsite, but it was still lonely enough.

The next day I refilled all my water containers because I wouldn't have water for the next 30 hours. Unfortunately, there was a mountain to cross, and I'd rather haven't had to carry the three extra kilos. But to cross it I had to. On top of the mountain I was panting like a hippo and met one of those annoying trail runners who disrespectfully run your multi-day walk in just one day and thus make it look EASY. But he was actually pretty nice. It took me 7 hours to reach the next campsite which was located at picturesque Wineglass Bay. At the campsite, there were a few anglers, but I found a lonely spot behind the foredune. I was joined by wallabies, all kinds of birds, and two possums who made a lot of noise at night when they played with my pots which I had left outside. Also, I found a biggish spider in my tent which I didn't dare to catch and throw out because I didn't know whether or not it could kill me. The idea to kill it first didn't cross my mind at the time because it was too big not to be considered a sentient being. Someone told me later that these spiders aren't able to kill people but their bites cause big ugly ulcers, so good call to leave it alone.

The last day the sky had cleared up and I could take the standard pictures of Tasmania's East Coast signature view, the Wineglass Bay from Wineglass Bay Lookout. There, I ran into a group of guys I had shared a dorm with in Hobart.

Freycinet peninsular. I walked from the car park via Hazards Beach to Cooks Beach, from there via Mt. Graham to Wineglass Bay and back to the car park.

Blue wren

Right before Hazards Beach.

Hazards Beach.

Sunset at Cooks Beach.

Cooks Beach.

View from Cooks Beach campsite.

Oyster catchers.

It took me 7 hours because of that stupid mountain.

View from the top of Mt. Graham.

Don't I own this boulder?

Wallaby with joey.

 

Wineglass Bay with the Hazards in the background.

Wineglass Bay seen from the lookout.

Overland Track log #4 - Pictures!!

It took me about an hour to reduce the number of pictures to maybe 10%, so that you'll only get to see the prettiest and most important ones to get an impression.

The trail was well marked. Even for people with orientation skills lesser than mine it must be impossible to get lost.

Some romantic boat hut.

Lots of water up here, and it's drinkable. Barn Bluff to the left, another mountain I did not climb.

My first hut. Note the sleeping platforms. Even though the huts are modern and very well maintained they are still very plain.

Forgot the names of these. I think it was Pretty Pink Flowers.

Lake Will. It was chilly, but I felt icky enough to take a dip here and rinse my sweaty clothes.

Even the lichens here are beautiful.

Tannine-stained water.

The only one of my hundred pictures of a wallaby (small kangaroo) with joey (kangaroo-baby) which was in focus. The joey was too lazy to leave mommy's bag and would just eat out of it instead.

I believe this was the second hut. Maybe Pelion Gap Hut. It was freezing at night here, maybe 3 or 4 C.

The day with hail and cold winds on an exposed part of the trail.

One of many waterfalls.

Waratah.

Knee-deep mud. Fun times!

One picture with people in it! These are some of my walking buddies socializing in the hut at night. Most of them retreated to their tents for sleeping though.

Another romantic hut which surely has a name.

Another pretty waterfall.

Me sitting on top of a waterfall, feet in the water, having a great view.

View from Windy Ridge Hut.

Buttongrass and duckboards.

Shaky suspension bridge.

More duckboarded bog.

Lake St. Clair.

Me doing a rain dance. I think.

Echo Point Hut. Tiny, rat- and possum-infested, and best place ever, if only for the view.

View from Echo Point Hut.

Last bit of walk, through enchanted forest.

My muddy shoes.