Salamanca, Samplers and Sangria.

While the skies remained grey, there was a distinct lack of rain about the place this morning, allowing us to head to the Salamanca Markets. We got there via one of the free Hobart Hopper buses that turn up every 10 minutes on a set route. The bus that picked us up appeared to be almost entirely populated by ladies called Gladys and Mavis. While they discussed the latest Royal visit, we viewed the sights of down-town Hobart.

Within minutes of arriving at the markets, Hamish was roped in by an enterprising magician in flannelette with a pubescent voice. Josh was sufficiently moved by the performance to deposit a coin in the young man's collection box while sporting a very serious expression. 

The place was packed, the lines of stalls most impressive (kind of like other large markets - only without the grime and shonky merchandise). We picked up some milkshakes from Viking Cones, who made use of Valhalla ice-cream in a Nordic theme over-kill.   

On our return trip on the Hopper, one vociferous elderly lady marvelled to the long-suffering bus driver how polite people were to cyclists in Hobart compared to Sydney (implying drivers there viewed them as speed-bumps). Charming.

After a brief stop at Melville Street to collect our car - we set off for the Cascade Brewery. Lily managed to wander into some strangers group photos in the gardens, while Joshie encroached on a couple seeking alone-time on a bench.  

Where the magic happens.

At the restaurant, I reluctantly agreed to try the Cascade Beer Sampler, and found both the Bright and Pale Ales very tasty indeed.

Taking advantage of the continuing break in the weather, we made for the Royal Tasmanian Botanical Gardens. The place includes a Subantarctic Plant House, which houses specimens from Heard and Macquarie Islands (the only gardens on the planet to do so) in a specially-chilled storage unit. Hamish thought it a clever idea to stick his face in front of the high-powered fans designed to simulate wind-chill.

There was a Japanese Garden, as well as the vegetable patch made famous (at least in the Martin house-hold) by one Peter Cundall, the cardigan-wearing ex-host of Gardening Australia. It looked in pretty good shape, but I couldn't help feeling slightly disappointed that he wasn't there digging his hands through decomposing manure proclaiming it 'blooming marvellous'. 

Perhaps more important than the rare collections of palms from South Africa, or the teeny Antarctic cabbages from Heard Island - was the space. Lots and lots of grass for the Martin kiddies to race about on, fortunately missing a Bridal party gathered under the weighty branches of an ancient tree.

This game is entitled, 'Run around screaming - at length'.

We made our way back to Melville Street, and nearly burnt the place down after setting fire to a lovely looking cake to commiserate celebrate some old guys birthday. A tasty Mexican meal along Elizabeth Street (packed full of restaurants and cafes) rounded out the day rather well.

Tomorrow will hopefully see us head south and brave the Tahune Airwalk (spans of walk-ways, perched high in the trees). As someone that grows a little shaky on anything above the second rung on a ladder - I am looking forward to this immensely.