Sore Backs and Tidbits

First off, an update on the strawberries. We've put in several “days” so far, but this does not exactly mean full eight-hour days. Planting usually starts at 6 or 6:30 am, and will go anywhere from mid-morning til late afternoon depending on how many plants are available. Each farm has a pile of “runner” plants, as the seed stock are called, when the crews of between twenty-five and thirty-five people show up; these piles are usually from 20,000 to 50,000 plants, but can be up to 80,000. The whole crew of close to forty is due to put in 120,000 tomorrow. Pay is per thousand runners planted by each group, and three people can typically plant between one and two thousand an hour, give or take. One morning about 35 people put in 23,000 in an hour.

The fields have rows covered in plastic and holes are punched in the plastic where the plants go. Groups of three or four take turns dropping plants along their row and planting. Planting requires a lot of time spent bent over, which gets old quickly. It gets warm, but nowhere near as oppressively hot as our days in Emerald. Even the fastest groups don't make a lot of money, but at least it pays the bills.

This really has turned out to be rather tough work, especially for the low pay. It isn't difficult to get it right, but bending over all day and rushing to keep up can be strenuous. Some of these kids work like they're training for the Strawberry Planting event in the Olympics.

As this sort of work is very seasonal, doesn't require much skill, and is hardly something Australians would suffer themselves to be caught doing, all the planters are backpackers. I noticed just how diverse the crews were when I listened to chatter in Japanese, French, German, I think Mandarin, Danish, Italian, and English with Irish, Northern Irish, American, Aussie (the bosses), and British accents. Quite multinational. Most everybody has at least a little bit of a sense of humor and is pretty friendly, and there's a bit of camaraderie among backpackers, something we haven't gotten to experience at our other jobs. They say that not many Americans plant strawberries, and Larry and I are the only ones in this bunch. I get a kick out of the fact that we wear our big cowboy hats to the strawberry fields, especially since we're in our shorts and bare feet. One of the bosses calls Larry “Tex”. All that should paint quite a mental picture, eh? Editor's Note: Though I forgot about it while writing this post, also add Larry and I singing 'Swing Low, Sweet Chariot' to the mental imagery painted above. We felt it was a fitting song for hot afternoons spent doing menial, low-pay field work.

At this point in the trip, I thought it'd be appropriate to throw in a few scattered tidbits:

Australia is very expensive. Minimum wage may seem high, but the cost of living is roughly double what we would pay in Montana. Prices drop a bit as you get away from the big cities and anywhere near a coal mine, where money is a'plentiful. A pint could be had in Brisbane for $10. A beer out in the hinterlands is worth maybe $6, depending on happy hours. Oh how I long for thee, Molly Brown.

I've seen a few kangaroos, lots of kookaburras, bugs, and spiders, one deadly snake, a couple harmless snakes, geckos, and little lizards. I'm still looking for platypi, koalas, and echidnas. I hear there are penguins down near Melbourne in the winter, and I would like to see a Tasmanian Tiger.

Australian rules football is really just loosely contained mayhem. Cricket is without a doubt the most boring and confusing sport ever. I mean really, are the mattresses they strap to their legs necessary? Does a match need to last up to five days?

In general, grammar is terrible in Australia, and some might say that bad grammar is a pet peeve of mine. For example, nouns are often used as adjectives, and the term “drink-driving” is used instead of “drunk-driving”. That just doesn't sound right.

I've gotten back into drinking way too much tea. I'm probably up to three or four cups a day at least.

Apart from the Ihles, I met a girl from Tennessee in Newcastle and we overheard a girl in Tamworth who might have been American. Other than that, we've seen no Americans since we got here.

Despite this, neither Larry nor I have even a hint of an accent. I might use a local phrase once in a great while, but I can't even attempt an accent without sounding ridiculous.