My Peeps
The setting is not a location that we ever thought would feel comfortable.
Mobile houses crammed in with tents and swags and gazebos taking up the remaining space. A community with unspoken rules that you dare not break for threat of eviction.
A sense of privacy created by strategically parking cars and hanging washing on a mobile clothesline. Just enough to shield fellow holidaymakers from any tiffs that inevitably ensue when living close together.
But not too much because this is communal living and you do not wish to appear rude.
Amenities with clearly signed COVID-19 rules encouraging us all to look after each other by cleaning the sink, mopping the floor, and washing your hands. It is such common courtesy and commonsense that it should have been happening for years not just because of a global pandemic.
There is a friendliness that, not uncommon to Tasmanian's way of life, is a constant.
People have time, they share a joke and help each other out assisting with reversing or setting up or when in need of an adjustable spanner or when a child stubs their toe, riding a bike, in thongs.
For many, we hope that they want to continue to help others, an innate and natural reaction, particularly when children are hurt or injured or sick.
It should remain a community duty rather than the offering of assistance setting off alarm bells or posing danger.
It feels rude not to say "g'day" or "hello" or "cracking day" when passing a fellow traveller.
"Brian Wightman as I live and breathe," offers a former soccer foe returning home from the mainland for summer. We reminisce including telling lies of how good we were and check in on family and sporting club responsibilities and schools and teachers and the future. We acknowledge each other and continue our chats but we do not invade the semblance of space.
There is a contentment in being jampacked; a notion like you feel in larger cities where masses of people create an ironic sense of safety. On reflection, that was before 2020.
We are all in this together has never been more apt when holidaying next to new neighbors.
The East Coast has always been busy at this time of year, but the summer of 2020/21 will be remembered for being even more frenzied.
There are no ski trips to Europe or summer holidays to Bali. No conga lines of caravans heading up the mainland's Pacific Highway where raising a finger to acknowledge adventure on wheels happens as regularly as passing trucks carrying hay bales. No famous rail trip adventures due to border closures. And, thankfully, there are not all-engulfing bushfires that dominated our thoughts and my writing at this time last year.
Tourists are about, but it is locals filling the void; happy to be holidaying at home.
There has been a further coming of age and realization that we are blessed to live in Tasmania; no place like it, difficult to compare and important to cherish with our legacy being an even better place to pass onto our loved ones.
There are blokes having a break at the local supermarket, one bearded atop stacked milkcrates with cigarette in hand in conversation with another diligent worker keeping him company. Bearded worker with cigarette informs passersby who enquire about the current working environment: "hectic".
A youngster experiencing the joys of a part time summer job, a rite of passage, at a local coffee shop that is more Melbourne laneway hipster than surf coast offers that she had not even had time for a drink of water.
The café is a converted trendy shipping crate with two baristas continuously grinding, extracting, and steaming.
The coffees are great, and we are ready to continue; refreshed by a rest, the buzz of the coffee, and thoughts of a super cool establishment doing well after a difficult year.
It is a truism that we now crave coffee like a Landcruiser craves diesel. We choose cafes based on the coffee they are grinding and whether they use real honey chai for a soy latte.
Could we really tell the difference between an Ethiopian bean and a blend?
There are Akubra hats, once the standard of hardworking farmers, drovers, The Man from Snowy River, and politicians attempting to look rural and of the people.
But not now, they are for beachgoers; all shorts and tank tops and tattoos and sunglasses and leather bracelets topped off with a Stylemaster or Cattleman or a Traveller. Shoes remain optional.
They look fit and healthy and enjoying life. There is happiness in finding your space to relax. Relaxing is hard work and challenging for many but with hard work comes reward.
They chat about the future, their dreams, and aspirations.
One is engaged and wants a big wedding. However, that is more easily said than done. Guest lists will need to be modified; numbers lowered without causing conflict and long term hurt.
It had us thinking: In 2021 it does not matter where you are if you are with your peeps.