No. 3 Tinkle: The Pavilion at Moorilla Estate Tasmania
We read every guide we could get our hands on to plan our jaunt Down Under, consuming so much have-to-see information that we put together an itinerary that resembled the following Circuit of Stupidity juxtaposed onto United States geography:
- Fly to Washington, DC. See as much as possible in three days.
- Fly from DC to Boston. Get on a boat and ride to Nantucket. Spend three days.
- Fly from Boston to Chicago. Spend one day.
- Float down the Mississippi River in a steamboat all the way to New Orleans. Two days. (I know it would take more in real life.)
- Spend two days in New Orleans. Decide to see much of South Louisiana as part of those two days.
- Rent a car and drive along the Gulf Coast to Jacksonville, Florida. Two days, which includes stopping to hike both days.
- Fly from Jacksonville to Cuba for three illegal days.
- Fly from Cuba to DC and head for home.
By the time MTM and I landed in Hobart, Tasmania (Cuba in the above scenario), we were questioning our sanity. Why on earth did we think we could see half of an entire continent in a little over two weeks’ time? Our car labored to carry our weary bodies to Moorilla Estate, the final stop in our “See Australia or Bust” tour.
When we walked over the ridge to our Pavilion, the Derwent River carved a wet gash in front of towering mountains. What they called a cottage was bigger than our house, a two-bedroom wonderland with a working kitchen and a fully stocked wine cellar. The master suite occupied the lower floor of the place, and I traipsed past the inviting bed to use the toilet.
And stopped. Open-mouthed.
The bathroom had the same sweeping river view, with a languorous soaking tub built into a solid sheet of window glass. The heated floor was warm luxury to the pads of my bare feet. Two sinks occupied the back of the space, crowned with a wall of mirror that reflected the view while I brushed my teeth.
The toilet was angled along one wall, its placement ideal for studying the flora and fauna or watching the moonlight reflected in the rippling river at night.
I might still be in that bathroom today if only I could’ve convinced MTM to stay.
This post is part of the series My Top 10 Tinkles. If this is your first visit to this urinary extravaganza, please click here to start the series at the beginning. Thank you for reading my blog, for sharing it, and for spending time here.