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Blank slate for quaint town

081_p1040215TABULA rasa is a lovely snip of Latin. It translates to blank slate and is often used to describe a state of mind.
"An absence of preconceived or predetermined goals,'' the Australian Oxford reckons.
Tabula rasa can be one of the best things to pack on a leisure trip. So it was last week that a drive from Launceston to Hobart included a detour to the historic Southern Midlands town of Oatlands.
A tourist doing the same might arrive tabula rasa, pull over at Lake Dulverton and not think anything of the large body of water proudly guarded by a big, black swanduckgoose.
You can call it that if you're leisure travelling because you don't want  to fill up that blank slate with precise but paltry information.
There is a sign suggesting ducks cross the road here but this is more like your ugly duckling scenario, i.e. a swan.
It's the same lake that over recent decades has gained notoriety for being untroubled by water (we might have to call that aqua rasa) but this day (best called Monday, because that's the day it was), the lake is water rich and looking  vibrant.
A short distance away the Oatlands District Historical Society has a shopfront and museum. I slip in for a quick glance; it's lunchtime and there's no one about except a fellow doing
some handyman-type work in an adjoining room. There's plenty to see, much of it representing the strong agricultural and convict links of the district. A row of  clothes irons slips
from the electric to the fire-heated variety; there's a wooden butter churn, wheat harvesting gear and a chance to meet bootmaker Samuel Seal, or, at least, his likeness.
Seal arrived in Van Diemens Land in 1831, one of the Swing Rioters transported for destroying the machinery they saw as taking away their livelihoods. This Seal was also a much-punished convict but eventually earned his freedom and became a bootmaker.
Outside, the streetscape is spectacular, striking sandstone. Not just a few, but 87 sandstone buildings in the Main Street. The town lays claim to the nation's highest number of pre-1837 sandstone buildings.
Some of the stand-outs are the Commissariat, Oatlands Gaol and Court House, with the town's totemic  Callington Mill bringing a new wave of visitors to Oatlands. But more on that particular success story in the next few weeks.
Back on the highway and travelling south, the hills above Kempton offer a message.  White-painted tyres are arranged on the hillside to spell Save Our School. As testimony to the apparent power of macro graffiti, the school closures are called off that afternoon.
An unconventional protest such as the hill message is an ideal primer for my next stop, the Museum of Old and New Art at Berriedale.
MONA is all about outrage, all about opinion. It's impossible to wander into the sandstone bunker and stay neutral to your surroundings. MONA, David Walsh's $150 million gift to Tasmania, deliberately challenges visitors to react.