Ever since arriving in Hobart we’ve made a concerted effort to investigate our new surroundings. Countless hours have been spent with our necks craned, pointing gormlessly at various landmarks and beauty spots.

When you come here, I encourage you to sneak a glance sideways. You’ll be awestruck by the local’s great protective grandfather, Mt Wellington. The omnipresent beast stands tall, looming grandly over the town. It’s our friend, it keeps the rain away, and lets you know what the days weather will be like each morning. Walking through Battery Point, the oldest suburb in Australia is such a treat. The sort of place you’d immediately show your mother. Workers cottages dot the tree-lined streets overlooking the ever-present shiny blue harbour. Meandering around the streets conjures up images of Glasgow, Cardiff… Just name a British town and Battery Point is the best example of it.

We’re currently on a mission to investigate every pub in town and rank them, based on the occasion. “Knoppies” is a landmark in itself. It’s in Salamanca and each Friday it unites tradies in fluorescent vests with the briefcase brigade. We appreciate it for this reason. The biggest treat about all Hobart’s pubs is the beer selection. Forget Steinlager Pure, that isn’t a patch on James Squire’s Sundowner. We’ve already been to one Beer Festival here, the wonderful Micro-Brew Beer Fest. Despite it being a rainy, cold day people turned out in droves to sample new and familiar craft beers. Champagne Cider is a concept I thoroughly approve of. Very drinkable and thankfully not as sweet as a standard cider.

The annual Tasmanian Beer Festival is on this weekend. We missed it by about three hours when we came to Hobart for a holiday last year. We won’t be making the same mistake again!

We’ve been getting out of Hobart to explore the surrounding areas as much as we can as well. When we first arrived we took a trip along the South-East coast to Port Arthur. As it turns out, the places you drive through to get to the historic convict site are spectacular and warrant several day trips in themselves. I’d like to rent a “shack” at the promisingly named “Sunset Beach” and explore the Tasman Peninsula at length. On our brief stop we discovered the tessellated pavement, a freak of nature. It’s flat rocks with deep lines in them made not by man nor beast. I’ve included a photo of them because you have to see them to attempt to believe it.

Port Arthur reminded us both of our visit to the Museum of Welsh Life, in Cardiff but with a slightly more sinister feel. Both places allow you to transport yourself back in time by walking through actual prison buildings and officer’s homes. The English garden, designed for the pleasure of officer’s wives is a highlight. It’s also a great example of British stoicism. All the plants and trees were brought over from England for the ladies garden. Never mind the abundance of beautiful plants and trees already here!

More recently, we travelled up the middle of the island, along the Midland Highway. People I work with told me this was a boring drive. Ha! Boy are they wrong! Every town is an absolute gem. Oatlands has an old windmill, Ross has red London telephone boxes. I was starting to think perhaps the endless hours spent on a plane from Paris to Australia was actually a figment of my imagination and we were in fact still in the Peak District. We ended our road trip in Launceston. The state’s other major city and the home of James Boags. We’re already planning a weekend away to “Lonny” in aid of an extended visit to the Boag’s Brewery. The best part about Launceston is it’s parks. City Park is spectacular. It reminds me of going to the Christchurch Botanic Gardens as a child. It took all my reserve not to whip off my “thongs” and run through the meadow-like grass collecting daisies.

My experience of Hobart so far is that it’s inspiring. When the sun shines, it truly shines. The sky is a perfect, deep blue and the harbour is crystal clear. Everyone we meet is doing something they want to do. Whether it be starting an electrical apprenticeship at 32, serving beer and sausages at a school fair, or setting up their own art gallery. I can’t wait to venture further around the island and make my own little mark on the place. But right now, as we sit on our front porch with the sun still searing us at 6pm, I can’t help but think we are absolutely living the dream.