As a child, where I grew up in north-west Tasmania was simply the place I grew up. On school holidays my siblings and I played at home, went to the local beach, went on outings with our parents, or stayed at our grandparents’ shack. At the time these were nothing special, they were just what we did.
At the start of Year 3 our class went through the usual ‘what I did on my summer holidays’ reports, and one classmate excitedly reported that they had gone to Coffs Harbour and visited the Big Banana. It was so big you could walk through it! Our family never travelled outside of Tasmania, and the Big Banana sounded like the ultimate in excitement. I was green with envy and incredibly disappointed that their holiday was more exciting than mine.
Fast forward 30 years. I was living in Sydney, and my partner’s nephew was getting married, in, wait for it, Coffs Harbour. At age 39 I was finally going to go there. All those childhood memories came rushing back, now with delayed memory enhancement. Coffs Harbour and the Big Banana had without conscious thought assumed the proportions of the biggest, the most exciting, the most exotic holiday ever! I could hardly contain my excitement.
After a six hour drive up the Pacific Highway from Sydney, we arrived at our budget motel in Coffs Harbour to pouring rain, which kept up all weekend. Entering town, the three lanes of traffic in each direction were bounded by resorts, houses, motels, and shops. I was tired and bored, and my cursory glances didn’t locate the Big Banana. Could this town seriously be the location of the ultimate exotic holiday from my childhood imagination?
Next day, as we drove back down the road toward the wedding venue, there it was right in front of us – the Big Banana. My jaw dropped and my brain had to work hard to reconcile impression and reality. I couldn’t stop saying, “Is that it? Is that IT? Is THAT IT? Seriously, IS THAT IT?” Was this really the place of the biggest, most exciting, most exotic holiday ever? The in-laws couldn’t understand why I was flabbergasted. With each “Is that it?” they responded with a most bemused “Yes”. No doubt I irritated them immensely over the weekend, as I couldn’t stop saying “I can’t believe that’s it!” every time we drove past.
It has taken years for that conflict between impression and reality to settle into acknowledgment. Now I drive to Coffs Harbour a couple of times each year for work. Invariably, as I drive past the Big Banana, I smile and notice it still brings up a lot of memories. The initial shock has faded to wry amusement, and with it conscious realisation of how special and wonderful my own childhood holidays were. More on that in Part 2 in a few weeks.
In reality the Big Banana is big – certainly much, much, bigger than a real banana – just nowhere near as big as the Big Banana of my imagination. And while I’ve never been in there, it looks pretty good from their website: http://www.bigbanana.com/. Please don’t let my memories put you off visiting.