There’s something special about the way travel humbles us. On Thursday evening, after what had been one of the more surprising days in our many years of wandering this planet, we found ourselves sitting across the table from Fran and Terry, the very landlords of our upcoming March 1 rental in Penguin.
If you didn’t read yesterday’s post, here it is. It tells the story of our unexpected arrival in town… without a place to stay. A simple mix-up in dates, confirmed long ago, somehow unraveled in real time. And just like that, we were in Penguin with our luggage and no holiday home waiting for us, at least not until March 1. The already homeless couple became homeless even further.
But here’s the beautiful part.
Instead of awkwardness or frustration, there was kindness.
Instead of blame, there was grace.
Fran and Terry opened their home to us that first night, and within hours, they had helped us secure a lovely interim property, where we’ll happily stay for the next two weeks, until Sunrise at Penguin becomes available on March 1. We are more than fine. In fact, we’re grateful. These little bumps in the road often turn into the stories we cherish most.
Feeling bad about the mix-up, Fran and Terry insisted on taking us out to dinner on Thursday evening. And not just anywhere.
The Neptune Grand Hotel Bar & Bistro is exactly the kind of place we love discovering in small towns. Warm lighting, friendly faces, a bit of chatter at the bar, and the kind of menu that feels generous without trying too hard. It has that relaxed Tasmanian charm — unpretentious, welcoming, and quietly proud of what it serves.
Dinner was delicious. Fresh, flavorful, beautifully presented without being fussy. There’s something especially enjoyable about dining out when you hadn’t planned to — when the evening takes a turn and becomes something softer and sweeter than expected. Conversation flowed easily. Laughter came naturally. What could have been an uncomfortable situation felt instead like the beginning of a friendship.
And here’s the part that makes us smile: Monday through Thursday, they offer a dinner special for AUD 25, which at today’s exchange rate is about US $17.69. We’ll absolutely be back for that. It feels almost decadent to dine out at those prices after months of carefully cooking at home. We don’t need extravagance, just a cozy table, a good meal, and that gentle hum of community around us.
Being here in Penguin feels… easy.
Yesterday afternoon, instead of driving to the larger supermarket in nearby Devonport, we shopped for groceries right here in town, with the best customer service on the planet. The owner and four of his employees boxed up our groceries and put them in the car’s boot. We’ve always preferred supporting local businesses whenever possible. And Penguin, with its population of only about 4,000, somehow offers nearly everything you could need. Bakeries, cafés, markets, small specialty shops, pubs, restaurants… all tucked into this seaside town with an unassuming confidence.
There’s something comforting about walking into a local grocer where people greet one another by name. Where shelves are modest but thoughtfully stocked. Where life moves just a touch slower.
The rain has been drifting in and out today — soft, on-again off-again showers that leave everything glistening. We haven’t ventured out for many photos yet, but we will. When the skies clear and that Tasmanian light shows itself, we’ll head out with our cameras and wander.
For now, we’re settling in.
And oh, the sounds.
Sheep bleating in the distance. Goats with their curious little calls. Roosters announcing themselves without apology. From our temporary home, we can hear them all. It’s a symphony of rural life that feels grounding and real. After so many months in various environments around the world, it’s delightful to get what we jokingly call our “animal fix.”
Tasmania has already surprised us.
We expected beauty. We expected cool air and coastal charm. We expected good food. But this unexpected layer — the kindness of strangers who quickly become friends, the soundtrack of farm animals, the joy of supporting a small town — feels like a gift.
Travel isn’t always seamless. Even after years of carefully organized itineraries and color-coded calendars, something can slip through the cracks. But what defines the experience isn’t the misstep — it’s how people show up afterward.
Fran and Terry showed up for us.
And now, instead of remembering Penguin as “the place we arrived without a booking,” we’ll remember it as the place where we were welcomed to the table, where a mix-up turned into a memorable meal, and where sheep and roosters serenade us all day.
We’re exactly where we’re meant to be.
Be well.
Photo from ten years ago today, February 14, 2016:
