WHAT IS BEN DOING RIGHT NOW?
15/2/03
I have a lot of free time and and pocket full of change. It is time for a proper update. Many people would wonder what the Helll am I doing right now.Why the Hell am I doing it. A few weeks ago, I was completley broke. I was out of money and I was bored. I couldn't get work fast enough so I asked the Australian government for money and the stupid bastards gave me some. Well when the guilt and shame of welfare sank in(about five minutes after I realized I was getting money for nothing), I decided I was desperate and found openings for migrant farm work in northern Victoria. I packed my things, said goodbye to my grandparents and went off on the 12 hour bus trip. I arrived early on a Sunday in the early morning. It was hot, it was like a fucking oven and I had to get around on foot with all the 'stuff' that I brought with me. I have a big fucking backpack in comparison to most other backers in the area. It is full to the brim of useless junk that I am going to get rid of as soon as I can drop it off. I have my bike too.
ok, so it was hot, I was bothered and my bike was in pieces and nothing was open, The trip had been uneventful. So, I put my bike together straped my pack on my back (it's so heavy that it leaves bruises on my shoulders most of the time) and went off to find a place to camp. The lonely planet guide had recommended a caravan park about 2k away from the bus station. After two or three loops around the center of town, I finaly found the place. It didn't open until 10am, it was 6am. "Godamn it!" I screamed "what the Hell is this happy Crappy?" I've been on a bus since 4pm yesterday, have had no fucking sleep, it's 95 degrees in th shade at 6am and I can't even set up my tent and sleep until 10 fucking o clock!" After venting, I decided to kill time by sleeping on a park bench and harassing the park ducks and gulls by throwing just enough food that they would fight over it..ah good times.
The caravan park was a good deal, for and unpowered site I paid AU$10 a night. The showers were clean and the people were friendly. There were several other backpackers in the site. Across from me there were three girls from Manchester and a couple from Whales. In the tent next to me there was an irish trio of two guys and a girl and a ways a way there was another guy from the UK. Australia is full of the English, 90 percent of the backpackers I have met so far have been from the UK and any North American I have met has been Canadian. In comparison, I have met very few Australia backpackers... anyway on with the story.
Since it was the a holiday weekend, most people int the park were just waiting for the employment office to open to find fruit picking work in the area. Everyone was broke... but the most was made. The girls from Manchester came over and introduced themselves and informwed me that I should be careful, because one of them had had a pack, or rucksack as they called it, stolen. we made use of the free electric grill in the park an finished a four liter of red wine. It was the typical backpacker conversation... where ya from... blah blah ..what are ..you doing... were've ya been ..blah blah blah..where ya ..going. ..politics politics..beer ..wasted.. wallet stolen in thailand. When the employment office opened, myself , the three girls, and the other guy from England.. found ourselves headed to Cobram to work at Pullars picking pears. After a 45 minute bus ride we pulled in, signed up, and went off to the onsite camping. It was a shithole.After about two hours after arrival.. the girls left to go telemarketing in Melborne. I was determined to last a week before I would leave. Dave, the guy that was at the park.. made the same agreement.
7am, the next morning.. the picking bags were collected and the sunscreen applied. The hats were firmly placed on the heads as we got on the people carriere attached to the tracter. The company pays on commision.. that is they pay $30 a bin. The bin's a 4X4X3, they seem huge on a first day. Picking wasn't just taking all the pears off a tree. You had to pick a certain size..this creates a problem when there are only small pears on your tree. It was two o'clock before the bin was even close to full. My luck changed at two o'clock. Someone pulled up in a jeep and walked out to the superviser words were spoken and Dave and I found ourselves working in the factory at an hourly rate of $13 an hour for baby sitting pear grading machines.
That's what I have been doing the past two and half weeks . I pay $14 a week in accomadation and I've been teaching myself to cook. Life has been uneventful and girls seem to leave every few days. But the money is good and I'll be leaving in couple of weeks to be a tourist again. I must go but I'll keep everyone updated.
Ben
Date forgotten and deleted..oops
well, I've met quite a few people here and have been hanging out with an english guy that I met at the caravan park I was staying at. The girls that come through don't stay long.. damn I got get back to work. 5/2/03 I am now at a fruit picking farm in cobram victoria Aust.. I work in the factory and sleep in a tent.. the pay is ok and the accomadation is about 90 percent cheaper than staying in a city.. so it really works out well. UI'll be here for at least a month.. then it's off to more traveling.. there are plenty of other backpackers here and I'm getting along well.. thats all for now. I'll write more when I have time 25/1/03 I'm off to go fruit picking in Shepparton Victoria.. I need the money. I won't be next to my faithful computer for a while.. But I'll try to keep this updated via a public library or Internet cafe. I'm off to work in 100 degree weather
Bye
WHAT AM I DOING?
14/1/03 What I was doing last night, was writing the following. There was an ad in a backpacking magazine about travelers tales for cash.. Being desperate for cash I out one together in hopes of winning. This is it.. it's all true except my crotch never actually touched on the bar. This was added to make the story a little more entertaing. Nothings funnier than hearing about a guy who gets his equipment damaged.Cursing in a high pitched voice
I love bicycling cross-country when I get the chance. You can see so much more than what you would see from a car and you will never be able to coast down a hill with the wind in your hair if you�re on foot. There is something to say about getting around on your own power that is infinitely satisfying�Ewell, most of the time anyway.
The last time I went further than down the street on my bike, was when I went to Newcastle. I�d come over to Australia from the US about a month before to visit relatives and do some backpacking around the country. I�d basically spent that month sitting on my ass, enjoying Grandma�s cooking and going down to the local library to get onto the Internet. It wasn�t my most productive time spent and it wasn�t soon before I realized I should at least find some work to fund any further travels. This was the same time I realized I needed a little more than an Australian passport to be able to work. �I�m a total dumbshit�EI thought, �What the hell was a Tax file number?�EI made the appropriate calls and found out that I could have a number in no less than a month if I submitted an application at an ATO office. The closest were in Newcastle and Sydney and I�d been to Sydney. My bored mind searched for ways to complicate matters. How can I turn this simple errand into something that won�t require an antidepressant? In the end, I decided on a bike trip. There was no real need to be back on the same day so I could stay a few days in Newcastle despite the fact it was less than a three hour ride up there. So, around noon on a blazing hot day on the central coast I got my slowly expanding body onto bicycle and left.
It wasn�t too hard going at first. I�m not really much of an athlete and the closest thing I�d had to exercise recently was when I�d gotten lost around Darling Harbor and found myself in Kings Cross. I pumped the pedals hard as I thought I could keep up for a few hours . I was anxious to make sure I made the trip in less than the three maximum I gave myself. I knew I was out of shape but surely ,I couldn�t be that bad. There was a slight wobble along my left leg when I pedaled. �Ignore it�EI told myself, �it will right itself sooner or later.�E The hills were getting bigger and I�d have rather concentrated on keeping a decent speed and looking at the scenery than minor problems.
The stretch of road I was on had some fabulous views. There were so many picturesque scenes I knew I would have sped past if I were in car or missed completely if I were in a train. �This is worth every drop of sweat�E I reflected as I topped another hill to view more than the last. I threw everything I could into going up the next hill. There was no way I�d let my speed drop on this one! I had flew down the previous hill and I had no plans of losing gained momentum. I sweated and grunted as the incline became greater and I was forced to switch gears. I pedaled faster, harder; I could feel the adrenaline running through my system. The road curved and I could see I was nearing the top! The wobble in my left leg suddenly got a little worse. I dutifully ignored it, stood up and pedaled harder.
In the next few seconds I found myself lying on the side of the road in so much pain I could barely speak. The side of my leg had a trickle of blood running down the side of it and my dreams of ever having children seemed to be over. When I had made the well thought out decision to hope my problems would right themselves, I had missed the fact that the left pedal was slightly loose. When I had missed the fact that the pedal was loose, the pedal started to grind away at the inside of the crank and when I had stood up with exuberance to speed up another hill, the pedal had fallen out and I fell straight onto the bar, wiped out and found myself finding cursing in a high pitched voice.
The damage to the bike couldn�t be fixed with my tool kit. I needed to replace the crank and pedal and I there wasn�t anything I could do about it. I was about halfway to Newcastle and I had no idea were the closest bike shop was. The closest town was a little place called Nord�s Wharf. It was one of those places that had a general store and maybe a post office. They did not have a bike shop. I was told there might be a place in Swansea, about 11 kilometers down the road. I sighed heavily at this information and pushed my disabled bicycle back onto the main road for a disheartening trip. The next part of the journey I do not remember fondly. I was pleased to find that was at a point where the most of the trip to Swansea was downhill. I could manage one pedal on flat land but uphill might as well have been impossible. It wasn�t long before I coasted into Swansea.
Some local kids directed me to a place where they thought I could acquire the parts to make my journey less painful. I walked in, asked if they sold cranks for my bike, and walked out to travel another 6k up the road to see if the next shop had any. After more cursing, a scraped ankle and lots of stares from cars and pedestrians I made it to the next shop. They told me they could get me the part I needed if I waited around for a few days. I asked for directions to the next shop.
I didn�t get the bike fixed that day. By the time I got to the next bike shop, it was closed and my destination was less than 10k away. Somehow, between all the breaks and walking after the broken crank, my three hour trip had turned into a seven and a half hour trip and I had completely forgotten why I hadn�t just taken a train or sent away for the number in the mail and spent more time on the beach. It took me about ten minutes in the morning to put in an application for my tax file number and three days to get another crank for my bike. The pedals are now fastened quite securely.
2-1-2003
Yo! I really should change this section's name to.. news or..updates something . I'm still in the same place and I will be for a while. i'm in a local public library right now and my time is limited on how much time I can soend on the net doing stuff. Since my tyoing is vey slow, I will get right to my update.
I spent New Years in Sydney and watched the fireworks at the Sydney Harbour bridge. I went down looking for a relaxing time. I though, I'll have a few drinks and mingle with other party goers(the place was packed) And thats what I did for the most part. I'll go back a bit
DEC 30th
I went down to Sydney early in the morning with two thoughts in mind. Find a place to stay overnight and perhaps look for work. Surely, I thought, There must be some Youth hostel with some vacancy! There are dozens in the city and they can't ALL be full. By noon I decided to screw both my plans and do some more site-seeing. It was a beautiful day, I went to Chinatown, left as quickly as I went.
Later, I was wandering and I cam e upon a street called Oxford street. I'd heard a bit of a buzz about the area and my aunt said it was a good place for backpackers. I decided to explore a bit. Something bugged me a bit about the area maybe it was the pastel buildings with the dramatic artwork in the windows or maybe it was all the bondage shops or the giant rainbow painted in the middle of the street. It just seemed a little.... gay. I wandered out after this realization not my ideal place to look for a hostel or work. I'm tolerent but I get a bit uncomfortable when guys hit on me. The rest of the day wa spent wandering around. I took the ferry across to Manly and enjoyed the breeze that always seems to blowing in from the water there. The ferry is always a nice trip and you get a beautiful look at the Harbor. By 7pm the day was lost and Iwas forced to head back north despite my plan to stay a few days for New Year. I'd just come back the next day for New Year's Fireworks. I did that
DEC 31st
So there I was back again..in Sydney. I arrived around 8pm on a train sparsely filled with young people of the same intentions. Most of them fully equipped with cooler full of beer and other drinks. I viewed the fireworks at midnight from the botanical gardens next to the opera house
I got back home at 9am. I'd intended to be back earlier but I was delayed by getting lost after joing partiers in Hyde park. At around 4 am I decide it was time to go. I left and relied on my instinct t get me the bacj to central station to take the two hour train ride. I missed it completle after dong a huge half circle in the city. I fond myself at redfern(quite a shady area windows were all barred and the place in shambles) after finding a hill to find myself looking back at the city I had wandered away from in the dark of night. Luckily, there was a train station in redfern and I made my way back quickly with very sore feet and a headache. That's my New Years. and I have to go