Chapter Thirty Three
June 2003 Tasmania feels like some forgotten wintry part of England. They have free bread in the hostel. I eat nothing but bread for two days. Now I never want to eat bread again. The thought of it sickens me. An elderly English lady is staying in the hostel. She says she's lived in north Queensland for forty years and now she's house hunting in Tasmania because she misses seasons. I can't imagine missing the cold. I go on a tour of the island. There are sandwiches for lunch every day but I take the filling out and eat it without the bread. It's a small group, another English girl, a newly wed Singaporean couple who seem lost and confused, and a Swiss man who is frighteningly serious about cake. I find myself no longer able to eat cake. We go to Freycinet National Park where the air is fresh and looks across the still blue waters of Wineglass Bay. The tour guide points at a distant shape and says it's a humpba...