Bouddi Bouddi Bouddi Bouddi Rockin' Everywhere

Easter long weekend featured a lot of sitting, a lot of napping, and a lot of movies on the couch.  I desperately needed that.

But it also featured a day trip up to Bouddi National Park on the Central Coast.  I’m pretty sure “Bouddi” is pronounced like “Booty” so I pretty much giggled whenever I said it.  The Central Coast is an area north of the Sydney Metropolitan Area but south of the next biggest city, Newcastle.  The Central Coast is full of retirees and people who wanted to buy a house but couldn’t afford one in the city so they purchased one for a lot cheaper in the Central Coast and don’t mind sitting on a train for 90 minutes each way every day.

I’ll take my 8 minute walk to work, thank you very much.

The Central Coast is also full of bogans – Australia’s answer to the redneck.  If you want an idea of what the Central Coast is like, here is a video which pretty much sums it up.  If you’re not from Australia, and particular not from the Sydney area, you’ll probably only get about 20% of what they’re saying.  I myself only get about 60%, and I think that’s about as high as I want to go.  Ignorance is bliss.

We spent most of our day at Bouddi National Park doing hiking trails down to a few of the beaches.  While the 92 kilometre drive to the Central Coast takes around an hour and a half mostly on highway, it’s just across the water from Palm Beach – which is 50 kilometres closer to Sydney by road and less than an hour from the Sydney CBD on busy city streets.  It’s because the Central Coast is separated from the Sydney metropolitan area by Broken Bay – a large inlet of water comparable to but probably somewhat larger than Sydney Harbour.  As there is no bridge over Broken Bay like there is over Sydney Harbour, you have to drive all the way around.  It seems a bit ridiculous that we drove so far just to end up right next to Palm Beach.  We could see the Barrenjoey Lighthouse on Palm Beach from Bouddi National Park:

The trip was a mini Tassie reunion as I went with Cade, Michael, and Vince.  We wandered around on the beach in the sun before heading to our next trail.

Next up:  another corner of the national park which was the site of a shipwreck.  A monument at the park’s visitor centre memorializes the sinking of the S.S. Maitland, which was flung onto the rocks by gale force winds in May 1898.

26 passengers perished with the ship.  114 years later, pieces of the ship actually remain on the rocks.  I ventured out on the slippery surface to see if I could find anything.  Surprisingly I did.  Right there on the rocks was a rusted out something from the ship:

I named this piece of the ship Tetanus.  What a cute name.  And I’m pretty sure this may have been an anchor... or some other piece of a ship... probably:

Further out – where it was too slippery to walk – sat a larger piece of the ship.  If you look right at the middle of this photo, you’ll see what looks like a big slab of wood sticking up from the rocks.

That’s a piece of the ship 114 years later.  Amazing.

We headed up to the top of the headland to check out the views:

When we had enough of the outdoors, we headed to the town of Avoca to check out their popular beach, and then to a town called The Entrance for dinner in a trashy pub.  That’s real Australia.  There is a renowned Mexican restaurant on the Central Coast, but it was fully booked that night.  I think we’re going to have to make another trip.

I’ll make sure to pack the bogan repellent.

Flo Becomes A Kitty

She was probably the biggest celebrity in America when I left.  No, no.  It wasn’t Oprah.  It wasn’t Ellen.  It wasn’t even Taylor Swift.

It was Flo.

You know:  Flo…

The Progressive Girl!

Oh yes.  You know her too well.  You love her too much.  But you still probably aren’t moving your insurance away from Geico.  Though, I must say, Flo is way more attractive than that gross little gecko or those unkempt cavemen.

We all love watching Flo on TV, and the year she debuted saw 60% of all females and 20% of all males in America dress up as her for Halloween.  Oh, it takes me back:

I noticed something amazing a few weeks ago.  All of a sudden, Flo has a cousin who lives in Australia!  No way!  Her name:  Kitty.

Hehe.  Kitty.  I wonder if Progressive is choosing quasi-vaginally-related names on purpose or are they just totally clueless?

Or maybe  Kitty isn’t Flo’s cousin.  Maybe she’s her sister.  Maybe the CEO of Progressive separated the fraternal twins at birth sending Kitty off to a faraway land to be raised by strangers as part of an evil scheme of world domination involving the sale of low cost car insurance to people all over the world.

Mwahahahahahahaha!!!

Or maybe not.

Or maybe Progressive is making a go at the Australian car insurance market and they’ve taken all of their American advertising expertise and mimicked it with an Aussie twist:

I like my first theory better.

First it was Costco, then Peter Pan peanut butter, and now Progressive.  The Americanization of Australia continues.

All we need now is Entenmann’s and a decent bagel and we’ll be good to go.

National Anthem of Naps

I hadn’t really heard much of the Australia’s national anthem until Glen’s citizenship ceremony in February.  I didn’t really think anything of it, but a few weeks later, Vince and I were chatting about it one night in Tasmania and it occurred to me that Australia’s national anthem is… completely uninspiring.

Sorry, Australia.

Chosen as the national anthem by popular vote as recently as 1977, Advance Australia Fair wasn’t formally adopted until 1984.  Let’s take a look at the lyrics:

Australians all let us rejoice,

For we are young and free;

We've golden soil and wealth for toil;

Our home is girt by sea;

Our land abounds in nature's gifts

Of beauty rich and rare;

In history's page, let every stage

Advance Australia Fair.

In joyful strains then let us sing,

Advance Australia Fair.

Beneath our radiant Southern Cross

We'll toil with hearts and hands;

To make this Commonwealth of ours

Renowned of all the lands;

For those who've come across the seas

We've boundless plains to share;

With courage let us all combine

To Advance Australia Fair.

In joyful strains then let us sing,

Advance Australia Fair.

Snooze-a-palooza.  Wake me up when it’s over?

Ok, a national anthem should be a bit more inspiring than that – something that riles the masses and builds patriotism – not the musical version of a landscape painting.  Let’s examine what an awesome national anthem should be like.  Note that all translations are rough translations according to Wikipedia.

Vietnam’s national anthem starts out strong with their soldiers marching, united in determination to save the country.  Later, the anthem says that the country’s flag is red because it’s dyed with the blood of victory, and that their glorious path is built on the corpses of their foes.   I thought the road was a little bit bumpy.

Now, that’s a bit direct if you ask me.  I mean, paving your roads with your dead enemies is quite harsh.  Let’s take a more metaphorical approach, shall we?  And maybe something that invokes the great history of a nation?

Italy’s national anthem invokes the name of Scipio, one of Rome’s finest military commanders who lived well over 2,000 years ago.  In the anthem, Italy awakens with Scipio’s helmet on her head.  But never fear a battle, for the lyrics also say that victory is Rome’s slave.  So yeah, looks like Italy is going to win this one.  But even if victory wasn’t Italy’s bitch, their foes may be scared shitless by the screaming “We are ready to die!” over and over again in the last verse.  Either way, this anthem leaves Italy sitting pretty on top.

Next door, France has a similar concept, but they invoke more scare tactics.  I love scare tactics.  The French national anthem starts with something along the lines of the enemy coming to kill your wife and children, and then goes on to insist that, in lieu of letting the enemy kill our families, we should water our fields with their blood instead.  That will teach them.

Is the guillotine ready?

And speaking of France, Algeria’s national anthem is a direct assault on the French, which of course I just have to like.  Winning independence from their colonial rulers in 1962 after a bloody war, the Algerian national anthem explicitly says: “O France, the time of reproach has passed” and “O France, the day of reckoning is at hand”.  Them’s fightin’ words.

Furthermore, the Algerians “have risen to revolution in life or death” and they “have taken the drum of gunpowder as their rhythm and the sound of machine guns as their melody”.  Holy shit they are angry.  And afterward do they each get 70 virgins?

Ok, finally, let’s tone it down because all of these murderous anthems are going to give me nightmares.  How about America?  The good ole U S of A!  I hate to admit it, but The Star-Spangled Banner is pretty frickin’ awesome as far as national anthems go. 

O! say can you see by the dawn's early light,
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming,
Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight,
O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming?
And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there;
O! say does that star-spangled banner yet wave,
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

It’s not at all violent or murderous, but still manages to rouse patriotism in every American – even the not-so-patriotic people like me.  Telling the story of a battle during the War of 1812 against Britain, Francis Scott Key writes about how, through the light produced by bombs and rockets, he is still able to see his country’s flag flying high – the British never able to capture it.  Awesome!

Now, I understand that Australia – though having fought alongside its allies’ troops in various wars – has never really fought a war itself.  It hasn’t really been attacked and hasn’t invaded another sovereign state since its independence from Britain in 1901.  Also, Australia’s independence was completely peaceful (Britain learned its lesson after the whole American thing went horribly awry for them…)  So I guess there really isn’t much in history to inspire some incredible, war-filled national anthem.  But still, every line of Advance Australia Fair may be totally true about this great land, but it doesn’t make up for the fact that it makes me want to take a nap.

Let’s compare:

Summary of the French national anthem:  “Our enemies are coming to kill us, but we will kill them instead and use their blood to water our fields.  They have evil plans for us, but we will never give up!”

Summary of the Vietnamese national anthem:  “United and determined to save the country, we are spirited and will pave our roads with our enemies.  We will never stop fighting!  We are everlasting!

Summary of the Australian national anthem:  “Our land is really pretty and big, so we should be happy. Let’s say it louder!”

Which one of these is not like the others?

Or maybe instead of the lyrics, let’s compare the authors:

American national anthem:  Written by a patriot witnessing a bloody battle between his nation and an evil imperial power.

Algerian national them:  Written by a nationalist imprisoned by the French… on the wall of his prison cell… in his own blood.

Australian national anthem:  Written by a Scottish composer.  Probably wearing a kilt.

Again, I ask:  which one of these is not like the others?

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get to work on my proposed new national anthem for Australia, titled “It’s A Tough Place”.

Australians all let us rejoice

For we have come from far

To conquer land where the sun burns man

And the drought can kill us all

Our land abounds in nature's gifts

But also species rare

Snakes, spiders, sharks, and cassowaries

Will kill you so beware

Apply more sunscreen or the sun

Will kill you so beware

Beneath our radiant Southern Cross

We wander treacherous terrain

Our ancestors shipwrecked the coast

Many perished - could not be saved

The Japanese bombed us once

So we interned them all

Stay away when bushfires blaze, they

Will kill you so beware

Dingoes will eat your favourite child, they

Will kill you so beware

I fully expect Ms. Gillard will be calling me soon to discuss this.

Vegemite In 8 Easy Steps

Look – there on that toast!  It’s an oil spill!  It’s battery acid!  No!

It’s Vegemite.

2 years, 2 months, and 10 days after arriving in Australia, I finally broke down and tried Vegemite.  I had resisted trying what is basically Australia’s national food for so long because of all of the horrible things I’d heard about it – from everybody who isn’t Australian.  Aussies, on the other hand, love the stuff and will defend its honour no matter what the cost.  They’ll tell you it’s like the Aussie version of peanut butter or Nutella.  And maybe based on popularity it is.  But I can say with 100% confidence that Vegemite is not peanut butter.  It’s not Nutella.  It’s not even close to either.  In fact, I’d say that a comparison between peanut butter and Vegemite is about as appropriate as a comparison between pizza and sewage.

So, let’s start with the basics: what is Vegemite?  Vegemite is a spread made from yeast extract.  And by “yeast extract”, I mean the by-products of the brewing process.  So, basically, when brewers make beer, all the nasty shit at the bottom of the vat at the end gets scraped up and becomes Vegemite.

I’m not even shitting you.  See – read the ingredients:

Then, they take the leftover beer gunk and add a bunch of vitamins and minerals to it, and then pour in a few dump trucks full of salt to mask the taste.  So, in all fairness, Vegemite is one of the world’s best sources of B vitamins.  It’s also one of the world’s worst smelling foods.  Step 1:  Open the jar.  Step 2:  Take a whiff.

OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT SMELL???

Heinous really.  I’ve never smelled anything like it before.  Now, the smell is somewhat reminiscent of a brewery – that stale, quasi-feet odor that makes you gag anywhere else other than a brewery.  But with Vegemite, it’s slightly off.  It’s sort of like some evil former Soviet republic invaded and hid their nuclear waste in the brewery, and the two smells fused together to create a newer, more foul odor.  I imagine that smell would be similar to Vegemite.

Now, I told a few people about my plan to try Vegemite, and they all said the same thing:  eat as little as possible.  For first timers, you’re supposed to get a piece of bread, add enough butter to make pre-diabetes Paula Deen proud, and then add the thinnest layer of Vegemite imaginable.  That goes in direct contradiction to the serving suggestion on the side of the Vegemite jar.  That looks like a lot of Vegemite to me:

Step 3:  Have a backup plan.  Now, I prepared a whole spread for an afternoon tea party – complete with fancy breads, crackers,  cheddar, feta, labnah, pita chips, hummus, nuts, honey, tea, bubbles, and of course, Vegemite.  If I was going to suffer through this, I was going to ensure I had plenty of other foods to eat to assist in ridding my mouth of the flavour.  Step 4:  Invite friends for moral support.  I was joined by Paul and Charlotte:

And Bojan and Adam:

Step 5:  Proceed with the preparation of the bread.  I put on an overly zealous amount of butter and then tried to go for a thin layer of the beer gunk – I mean Vegemite.  See this:  the Vegemite really does look like an oil spill:

Step 6:  Take a bite.

Step 7:  Make a face like you’ve just witnessed some kinky sex act performed by a group of senior citizens.

Step 8:  Question your decision to take a bite.

Ever since I arrived in Australia, I’ve been told that Vegemite tastes like a long list of different, gross things:  battery acid, bugs, aluminum, sadness, etc.  To me, any flavour in there was masked by the ungodly amount of salt in the small amount of Vegemite on my bread.  I can definitely see where people would say battery acid or aluminum, but the thing that came to my mind first was really salty water.  You know when you’re at the beach and you go for a swim and a wave catches you unaware and you end up with a mouth full of nasty saltwater with traces of whale piss?  That was what Vegemite reminded me of.  It wasn’t the world’s most horrible experience, but it was definitely unpleasant, uncomfortable, and it took a few seconds to recover from.  And I had a headache later that night and I can only guess it was due to the unusually high amount of salt in my body.

Seriously, the level of salt in this thing should classify it as semi-edible.  Though I’ve never tried it, I imagine a salt lick would be similar to Vegemite.  And you know why I’ve never tried a salt lick?

Because I’m not a fucking horse.

The Vegemite section should be moved to the pet food aisle.

  

Cancerous Advertising

Today was the first “cold” day we’ve had in Sydney – a sure sign that winter is on its way.  That means that all of the summer advertisements will soon be coming down.  In the lead up to summer every year, Sydney suddenly becomes invaded by advertisements for all things summery:  cold beer, flip-flops, cocktails, sunglasses, and more.  It seems every billboard, every bus, every bus stop, and even public toilets become prime targets to place an ad to boost summer sales.  Let’s take a look at a few ads that I snapped photos of this season.

Summer isn’t summer without this main ingredient:

Ice cream!  Oh yeah taste – explode in my mouth!

Who said that?

Fancy something with more of a kick?  How about a nice chilled bottle of bubbles to “spritz your summer”?

Or maybe something with a bit of a stronger kick?  I was recently informed that Midori was “my mix for summer”.

And for the kids?  Well, they might want a nice refreshing something after a long day of playing out in the heat.  How about a slurpee?

Notice the beach scene there on the slurpee ad.  It’s amazing how many posters featuring beach scenes are splashed all over a city where you can very easily see beaches in person.  But still, I suppose they are pretty to look at and boost sales.  Take this one for example:

Pretty beach, topless dude, and perfect conditions for… wait a minute.  What?

That’s right.  For every advertisement you see for ice cream or alcohol or slurpees or flip-flops or board shorts or whatever, there’s probably one nearby for skin cancer as well.  Is that really necessary?

Absolutely.

Australia and New Zealand have the highest rates of skin cancer in the world, including the highest instance rates and mortality rates for deadly melanoma.  Skin cancer rates in Australia are four times that of the rates in the United States, United Kingdom, or Canada.  80% of all cancers in Australia are skin cancer, and 2 in 3 Australians will be diagnosed with some sort of skin cancer by the time they are 70.  Doctors in Australia have over 1,000,000 patient consultations for skin cancer per year, and roughly 450,000 people are treated for one or more skin cancers every year.  Those are incredibly high numbers for a country with fewer than 23,000,000 people.  For super deadly melanoma, the figures are equally as frightening.  1 in 24 males and 1 in 34 females will develop melanoma before the age of 75, and melanoma is the most common form of cancer in Australians aged 15 – 44 years.  Scary.  But why?

An ozone hole located over eastern Australia and New Zealand lets through more UV rays than in other parts of the populated world.  This makes prolonged unprotected sun exposure very dangerous.  To add to the problem, both Australia and New Zealand are full of fair (pale) people of northern European ancestry.  Migration patterns over the past few centuries have moved all of these people to a place that their skin pigmentation just isn’t suited for.  Being pale and pasty in cloudy Britain is fine, but bring ‘em to a sunny climate and they burn to a crisp in no time at all.

For these reasons, every summer without fail the Cancer Council puts up advertisements everywhere – including on the radio and TV.  The goal is to educate the public that they need to be wearing sunblock and that broad-brimmed hats and long sleeves are ok in summer.  Sometimes the ads are fairly standard like the one on the bus above.  Last year, however, they weren’t nearly so subtle.  Previous versions featured pictures of stitches from moles that had to be removed, with an explanation of why each stitch was there and an indication that the person on the photograph was going to have more cancer down the line.  And let us not forget the television.  Everybody in New South Wales who owns a television probably knows the name Wes Bonney.  Wes was a 26 year old Australian who died of melanoma in 2010.  A series of TV commercials told his story, featuring tearful testimonials from his family and friends about the dangers of not properly protecting yourself from the sun.

So, friends, when you come to Australia to visit me, please come prepared.  Bring a hat, sunglasses, and plenty of sunblock, and don’t hesitate to sit in the shade.  Most importantly:  brace yourself.  Every person you meet will ask you if you are wearing sunblock – it’s a standard question posed to visitors here.  And when I say every person, I truly mean every person.  You’ll be asked several times during any given day.  And if you say no, you’re sure to get a story about how someone they know lost an ear or a nose or died because of skin cancer.  It’s real.

It’s not just the sharks, rip tides, snakes, spiders, heat, and jellyfish that will get you in Australia.  It’s the sun too.  This only adds to my postulation that everything in Australia wants you to die.

Rough place.  But having to apply sunscreen every day is still way better than having to deal with Republicans.  Australia still wins.

Tassie Foodie Heaven

Tasmania is foodie heaven.  Seriously.  It’s also wine snob heaven and beer lover heaven.  Basically, if you enjoy eating or drinking then you’ll enjoy Tasmania.  However many calories Tasmanians burn with all their hiking and outdoorsiness, they make up for with the incredible food and drink produced on the island.

Wine wine wine!  Tassie has a few great small wine regions.  Unfortunately, we didn’t have time to check out any wineries, but we made up for it with beer.  Beer beer beer!  We visited the Cascade Brewery – Australia’s oldest brewery – for a tour of the facilities followed by a tasting.  I have been to many microbreweries in the Seattle and Vancouver areas, but I had never toured a big commercial brewery like this.  It was pretty cool to see all of the beer being bottled so quickly:

Tasting time!  Pinkies up, boys…

We didn’t get a chance to visit Tasmania’s other big brewery – Boag’s in Launceston – but we did make sure to drink some while we were in its home state:

The Iron House Brewery was a small microbrewery in the middle of nowhere on Tasmania’s east coast.  While the brewery is new and small, it has a big restaurant area and great views over the water.

Cascade wasn’t the only big name factory we went to.  Cadbury’s produces the bulk of their Australian chocolate in Tassie, and while factory tours aren’t available, they have a visitor centre with a brief presentation on chocolate and a big ass chocolate shop with discount prices.  I got to pose with the Freddo Frog and Caramello Koala:

And Michael took his turn on the chocolate catwalk, sporting the purple bag of chocolates which is sure to be in season this fall.

The Salamanca Markets were another great place to get sweets.  We started the day off right with a jam doughnut and coffee:

The markets also featured fresh produce.  Tassie is famous for its apples, and more varieties exist here than on the mainland.  Living in Washington state for so long, I was spoiled by the apple selection.  In Tassie, I was pleasantly surprised to find my favourite Honeycrisp apples for purchase, and I quickly devoured one.  But for the full fruit experience, we went to Eureka Farm.  We got there too late to pick our own fruit, but we definitely partook in the eating of it.  Cade got himself a fancy, fruity, decadent dessert:

While Vince and I opted for the award-winning apricot ice cream.

And no, it wasn’t sorbet.  It was legit ice cream!

The apricot ice cream wasn’t the only ice cream we had on the trip.  We popped into the Melita Honey Farm to taste their honey ice cream.  We each got a little cup and devoured them quickly.  Delicioso!

Inside, there were walls of honey – dozens of varieties – and we tasted as many as we could (and purchased quite a few too).

For the option of sweet or savoury, we had lunch at the famous Mt Elephant Pancakes.  I obviously choose sweet!

And even the local cafes and restaurants had their own sweet concoctions, like this lime pop rocks cheesecake that I had on our night in Strahan.

Now, I’ve been focusing on the sweet treats here, but it wasn’t all sugary and delicious.  For every honey farmer and fruit grower, there was as small family-owned cheese maker or artisan bread baker to add to the Tassie foodie mix.  We cleaned up well on day one with our spread of breads, cheeses, relishes, and garnishes from the stands at the Salamanca Markets:

And while we couldn’t get all the way to the remote yet popular King Island Dairy, we made sure to purchase some of their product in the store for a little pre-dinner snack.

And for our main meal, you ask?  The boys were determined to eat some fried goodness from one of Hobart’s many fish and chips shops.  A cornucopia of fish each, coming right up!

And me?  I don’t eat fish.  But I had something else in mind.  When I think foodie heaven, there is one critical element which the boys successfully avoided when we passed by it in Hobart on our first night in town, but I was determined.  I made them go back to fulfill my wishes with some taco-flavoured kisses on night two.

Despite the strange carrot and purple cabbage garnish, the Mexican food is Tassie wasn’t half bad.

Taco, taco.

Burrito, burrito.

Cutest Little Devil

One of the first things we were told to do in Tasmania was to get off the road before dusk.  Tasmania has an abundance of wildlife and an abundance of road kill.  We saw our fair share of recently departed animals along the side of the road all across the island.  Lucky for us, we weren’t responsible for any of it.  Seeing so much road kill made me super determined to see more live specimens than dead ones.  Unfortunately, we didn’t see all that much in the wild since most marsupials are nocturnal.  The only exceptions were the handful of wallabies that we saw in various places, like this little cutie eating an apple core on the beach at Wineglass Bay:

We made up for our lack of animals in the wild with a stop at the Bonorong Wildlife Sanctuary.  The sanctuary had mostly every animal I had wanted to see in Tasmania with the sad exception of the monotremes (egg-laying mammals).  The park had neither platypuses nor echidnas.  Platypuses are hard to find in the wild, but we did manage to catch a glimpse of a live echidna wandering along the roadside somewhere between Cradle Mountain and Strahan.

Bonorong takes in injured and orphaned animals from Tasmania and the mainland.  Many of the animals come with sad stories, but the sanctuary recuperates them to be released back into the wild or cares for them if they are unfit to be returned to nature.  The park was dominated by kangaroos. 

The kangaroos at Bonorong were quite docile and domesticated.  They came close to us with no issue.  Even from up close though, I had no idea how this mother fit this very large joey in her pouch.

The best part was getting to feed and pet the kangaroos!  Kangaroos can’t reach the area under their necks, so we were told to give them a good rub there.  Vince followed orders:

My hand went out full of kangaroo food and came back full of kangaroo slobber:

Michael’s milkshake brings all the kangaroos to the yard.  (milkshake = kangaroo food pellets)

We got a little bit closer and…

Looks like this kangaroo wanted something a little more than what Vince was offering.  Oh my.  Let’s move on to the birds!  The kookaburra, with its crazy laugh, is probably the most famous of all Australian birds:

But it’s certainly not the prettiest.  Colourful parrots, lorikeets, cockatoos, and the like abound in Australia and Tasmania.  One example is the galah.  The sign said that this one’s name is Bob.  I’m not even joking.

The little row of five tawny frogmouths were all blind in one eye and won’t be released back into the wild.  It’s a sad story, but you have to admit:  these little guys all in a row are quite possibly the most adorable thing ever.

Cape Barren Geese wandered freely around the park.  Cade decided to give them a little nibble as well:

The park also had emus, but they aren’t native to Tasmania so I won’t post them.  Another species not found in Tassie is the koala.  The park had several imported koalas as well, and I was super excited to get to pet one!  The photo of me petting the koala, however, was photobombed by Michael with a big ass grin in the background.  He knew what he was doing.  I will say one thing:  after petting a koala, my hand reeked of eucalyptus, which smells surprisingly like marijuana.  Who knew?

While the koala isn’t found in Tassie, its closest relative is.  Meet the wombat!

This wombat was nothing short of fucking adorable.  Seriously adorable.  Random facts for you:  wombat’s poop is cubic and they stack the cubes to mark their territory.  Also, the wombat has a big ass plate of cartilage in its backside.  When being chased by a predator, it runs into its narrow burrow and then lets the hunter put its head between its rump and the top of its burrow.  It then uses massive force to smash the intruder’s skull between its big butt bone and the ceiling.  Awesome!  So, moral of the story:  never put your hand in a wombat burrow.

Also, we saw various types of quolls, but they were all asleep.

Now, of all species in Tasmania, none are more characteristic than the ones that are named after Tassie:  the Tasmanian tiger and the Tasmanian devil.  The Tasmanian tiger, more formally called the thylacine, was Tasmania’s answer to the tiger:  a carnivore that sits on the top of the food chain.  A marsupial, it wasn’t at all related to an actual tiger.  Tasmanian tiger memorabilia, signs, exhibits, and more abound all across the state despite the thylacine being extinct since 1936.  It still remains on Tasmania’s official emblem:

Early European settlers named the other species the Tasmanian devil because of the devilish growling sound that it makes.  Like the thylacine, the devil is a carnivore – not common in marsupials – and survives on a combination of hunting and scavenging.  Fortunately, the Tassie devil is still around.  Early settlers believed that the devil was a threat to livestock and hunted it.  How could anything this cute be a threat??? Come on!!!

The devil earned protected status in the 1940’s, and its reputation was fixed after researches announced that it was really never a threat to livestock.  It then became an iconic symbol of Tasmania.  Then, in 1996, scientists discovered devil facial tumour disease, a type of cancer that is being passed from devil to devil around the island.  It has caused massive population declines and led to the devil being placed on the endangered species list in 2008.  Efforts to protect the devil are underway, and a breeding program is working to increase the size of the healthy captive population in case the species goes extinct in the wild.

Awwww!  Look at him!  With the little wallaby tail in his mouth… who wants lunch?

So, if you want to see a devil in person, you’ll need to come to Australia.  The only devils outside of Australia are at a zoo in Copenhagen (a gift from the Tasmanian government after the Prince of Denmark’s wife, a Tasmanian woman, gave birth to their first son), but it’s best to see them here – in their native habitat – in Tasmania – just in case they aren’t around too much longer.  Until you get to see one in person, here is a video of one wandering around in an adorable fashion.

It scratches itself like a dog!  How cute!!!!