Looking Forward To...

With my return to the States in just a few days, I often think about home and what I've missed most about it:

• Mexican food. It's one of my favorites, but it's not very popular down here and is thus hard to find. I'm especially excited about getting the more authentic stuff in Arizona. Actually, I'll be pretty happy with most American foods, especially spicy stuff. Several times I was looked at like I had three heads because I ate something painfully spicy to Aussies and didn't bat an eye.
• Working for people who don't treat me like I'm 7. Several of my employers in the last four months talked to their workers like they were children, which I absolutely hated. This was partly because a large portion of the workers spoke only shaky English, but I never found this to be much of an excuse to be so condescending. Not that I don't do dumb things when working at home, but at least I get the benefit of the doubt about my abilities to comprehend simple instructions.
• Driving. I can't even imagine right now just how easy it will be to just get into a vehicle and go wherever I want, whenever I want. Though mass transit can get you around, it gets to be terribly inconvenient to rely on it and have to plan your life around timetables. Adjusting to driving on the right again might be interesting...
• Cheap beer. I'm 23, so opportunities to have a brew or two are naturally hardly ever passed up. Australians have the same range of qualities of beer, but all of them are preposterously expensive. A case of the worst-tasting, Milwaukee Ice-caliber beers still gouge a guy out of at least $40. Back in Wamuran during my strawberry-planting days, I bought my landlord's dad a case of Coronas to thank him for sharing his with Larry and me, and I just about had to take out a loan to afford $55 for 24 beers. I considered buying a six-pack for him instead, but even they were $23. Ridiculous. I'm gonna be pumped to pay $8 for a six of tasty, Montana micro-brew or all of $16 for a cube of always-delightful Pabst.
• Sessions. Getting back to Riley's, the 317, and the Bacchus will be high on my to-do list once I get home. I have to say I've been disappointed about how little music I've found here. Melbourne was very active and welcoming, but Brisbane I'm told has only one session a week lately, and Sydney somehow has none at all at the moment. I admit the fault was mine for not getting out to the pubs as much as I could have, but this wasn't always under my control.
• Not being homeless. Living out of a bag really is a huge pain, and constantly thinking about having too much stuff to haul around on your back is nothing but a hassle. Though I am uncertain what I will be doing nor where I will be doing it after the next few months, I will be thrilled to unpack all of my stuff and live in my old bunkhouse for awhile. Even having a room to myself will be a novelty.
• Family and Friends. It goes without saying that I'm more excited about seeing friends and family than anything else.

Larry and I are still in Sydney at the McCarrolls'. Larry's plans have changed quite a lot recently, and those interested should maybe get the story from him instead of me, if you haven't already. Our work around their place has included clearing rocks, sticks, and weeds out of five small horse pastures; pressure-washing a tennis court; splitting and stacking about a half-cord of wood; and digging a fifteen-foot by three-foot trench for some wiring to go in. I would have been on my way back to Brisbane today, but they need some help moving some furniture tomorrow, so I will fly north on Tuesday.

I'll start my long journey homeward on Wednesday afternoon. I fly from Brisbane to Auckland, where I have my excessively long layover. I won't complain too much about that yet; I'll just make sure I have plenty of entertainment options. From there I fly to San Francisco, and then to Phoenix to see my sisters, then back to MT after a week. It feels like I've got a million miles to cover, but it'll be over and done within a few days any way around it.

Will Work for Food

With nowhere in particular to be after I found out I had no reason to head north just yet, with the complication of not having the strongest funds, Phil and Sheridan suggested I stay with them and help them out with a few things they need done on their five-acre property. This sounded thoroughly compelling, as working for room and board would be the best situation I would have any hope of finding anywhere, and Phil and Sheridan's place is very comfortable. I was also thrilled with the return of Larry, who called his career as a sailor on account of dirtbag hippie boat captains with moldy hats, extremely slow progress due to unfavorable winds, exhaustion, and seasickness. He gave it more than a fair go, and no one can say he didn't try.

Phil and Sheridan have five horse pastures that needed some rocks picked and sticks picked up, and I have to admit I'm as accomplished at such work as anybody. Larry and I tag-teamed it for four days, and everyone is very impressed with our paddock clearing abilities. We're in the middle of pressure-washing their tennis court, which somehow feels weirder to say and see written than to actually do.

Though the week was spent almost entirely at work, Sheridan lined up an outing for us this weekend. She and her late husband had been very accomplished mountaineers and climbers. A friend of hers, whom she had taught to climb, is my age and climbs regularly in the Sydney area and in the Blue Mountains out from the city. He and some buddies of his went climbing this weekend, and Larry and I got to tag along.

We went to the Hawkesbury Lake area north of Sydney on Saturday afternoon. Luke had been there before, but missed the trail on the way in. His buddies were already at the climbing area, so we "bush-bashed" for two hours to find them. Scrambling back out again only took ten minutes. The scenery was great, but the climbing was beyond my humble abilities. Everybody else could climb most of the routes, but were annoyed by disproportionately tough spots.

We crashed at the house of 'Big Bird', a long-time spearfisherman. We had some of his own Wahoo catch waiting in the fridge, and it was some of the finest fish I've ever had; money couldn't have bought better fish. It was a fine evening, spent bantering and playing poker.

We headed for Joll's Bridge Sunday morning. Getting to this climbing area required walking along a busy hill road, climbing under a motorway bridge and up to the road, walking along the motorway, scrambling down a ways, then rappelling down. I climbed a little bit here, rather pathetically, but I enjoyed it and in my defense I haven't climbed in about two years. Again, the banter ran rampant, and I couldn't help but smile and shake my head during the day's several shady moments. This was a fun bunch. On a side note, it was also pointed out to me by a friend that these activities, except for maybe the rappelling, make me sound like a hobo. This makes sense, because that's pretty much what I am.

It's looking likely that I'll spend my last full week in Australia right where I am. I don't really have enough cash to go do anything too outrageous, but I'm certainly comfortable and feeling fairly productive. I'll be on my way back to Brissy next weekend or thereabouts, right before I'm set to jet again.

Sydney

I decided last Tuesday that I probably better be on my way north again, swinging through Sydney for a couple days before getting as much time in at the strawberry farms as I could. After saying goodbye to the Timmins family again, I took the train from Melbourne to Sydney, which took about twelve hours. My sister Courtney and her husband Aaron had met Phil McCarroll and his son Simon in 2005 on their trip to the Tour de France. Court had gotten me in contact with them before I left in February, and both the McCarrolls offered to show me around Syd whenever I got here. Simon is in Italy at the moment, but Phil and his partner Sheridan have been extremely gracious to me by letting me stay at their absolutely amazing place for the few days I'm in town, and for pointing me in the right directions on my tours of this iconic city.

Phil met me at Central Station in Syd when I arrived. He immediately took me towards the Rocks area, where I saw the Opera House and Sydney Harbo(u)r Bridge for the first time. I've been in Oz or more than three months, but hadn't felt it as much as I did when I first saw the Opera house. It was especially spectacular at night.

I got a message from Larry the next day saying he hadn't left port north of Sydney yet, so we met up again and toured. I took a ferry from Manly to Circular Quay (just google Sydney to see a map) and met Larry there. We walked around the Opera House, Royal Botanic Gardens, Government House, and Paddy's Markets. Larry sailed the next day, and I'll continue on that below. I hit the National Maritime Museum and the Powerhouse Museum Thursday. On Friday, I saw the famous Bondi Beach, took a ferry back to the city from Watson's Bay, and spent a confused hour in the Museum of Contemporary Art.

Sydney is certainly a must-see for anyone travelling to Australia. The Opera House and the Bridge are two sights that make this city recognizable to almost anyone in the world. There is a lot of history here, not just from the city but from the entire country. The city itself is impressive to see. I didn't enjoy the atmosphere as much as Melbourne's though; my best description is that it feels very business-like and touristy at the same time. I asked around about music, and the session scene is sadly quiet at the moment.

Larry's sailing trip is turning into another adventure. The boat owner is allegedly a bit of a dirtbag hippie; it's only the two of them onboard; facilities are rather rough; equipment may be a little lacking. However, if anybody could come out of yet another questionable situation just laughing and shaking his head, it'd be Larry.

I'm a bit unsure what I will be doing these last couple weeks in Aussieland. I found out yesterday that there is nothing for me to do at the strawberry farms if I got back up there, so there's not much point in going. I'm looking around for anything that would let me work for room and board at this point, and have a couple options, but nothing is very solid at the moment. Seemingly concrete developments appear and fade away again just as quickly. For the moment though, I am quite happy to have had Court's connection to some truly great people.

Snow Peas and the Drunken Poet

I guess I can chalk up one more misadventure to my already long list. Last week Larry and I decided to take jobs picking snow peas near a town called Maffra a couple hours east of Melbourne. I'm getting sick of saying this, but the situation looked shaky from the start. Larry and I would have been living in a very dirty and smelly apartment with the guy who hired us, but Dan, an English guy about our age, had also shown up when we did, and it was thought best to keep us together. We were instead put in a medium sized house with seven Taiwanese and a French guy. This place had a smallish kitchen, one bathroom, and hadn't been cleaned in a long time due to being inhabited solely by migrant workers, yet was more livable than the apartment.

We were supposed to work the day after we got there, but according to the subcontractor who hired us, the van broke down. We found this to be an utter lie the next day, when we were picked up and the other workers said it hadn't been broken down. This was just one example of the subcontractor lying through his teeth to us.

Larry and I had thought we had hit the bottom of the barrel with the strawberries, but we learned that picking snow peas is definitely worse. Not only are you stooped over from about 7am until late afternoon, you're also on your knees the entire time. Worst of all is the pay, which is by weight of produce picked. Larry, Dan, and I each picked about 60kg in a solid day of picking with only a 20-minute lunch and bathroom break. This worked out to be about $48 a piece for a hard day's work. Having to work three times harder to make this ridiculous job pay enough to get by in this country did not seem worth it or even possible. The owner of Maffra's hostel heartily agreed with us that picking veggies was about the worst job out there. It was also noted that we were the only white people in the field, the rest being Asian. One girl even asked us quite frankly, "Why are you here?"

At the end of the day, Larry got a text from a contact from some time ago asking him to be a deckhand on a sailing trip from Sydney to Hobart, Tasmania. Sadly, only one spot was open. He needed to get back to Melbourne immediately to get to Sydney in time to sail. I had no desire to stick around, and came back with him. We got to Melbourne mid-day Friday, and his train left that evening. Dan stuck around, but texted me three hours into the day that he was making about $4 an hour, and was also calling it quits. Dan was a good bloke, and I hope I can catch up to him again at some point, either in Oz or in the States, where he spends half the year as a snowboard instructor.

I am currently at the Timmins' again. I am looking at my options for the next couple weeks, but will most likely make my way north again. About a dozen of the planters are still in Caboolture trimming leaves and putting in a few plants here and there. Picking won't start for another few weeks. The strawberry pimp said I would have a place to stay and stuff to do if I got back up there. I have to head back to Bris eventually anyway, so it may be the best option.

The one bright spot, and a very bright one at that, was the session I played in Friday night. We had to be in the city til evening and I had my fiddle anyway, so I figured it would be worth the effort. The pub was called the Drunken Poet and is owned by a women from County Kilkenny. There were three other fiddles, a guitar, a bodhran, a concertina, and two flutes, all crammed into a corner at the front of the place. They started before I got my fiddle out, but I knew a couple of the tunes in their first set and stepped right in. Because it was so cramped, I wound up sitting on a keg at the edge of the circle. I had learned from the owner that it was indeed an open session, but the sessioneers didn't seem very engaging at first. I didn't know many of their tunes, but I started a few sets, and was nodded at with approval. At the end of the evening, everyone was glad to have had me. They all knew the tunes I played but hadn't heard them in years and were happy to break up their usual sets with refreshing, forgotten tunes. Phones were pulled out, they told me where and when to find Melb's numerous other sessions, and they said they'd keep me in the loop about ceilidhs and house sessions. It was a wonderful feeling to finally get to a session, and a good one at that. Before I left Montana, I had been playing a LOT of music, at least a session a week, with one instance of four sessions in five days, and I hadn't realized how much I missed them. It really makes me wish I could find a way to stay in Melbourne to get to know the session community.

I would like to congratulate all the graduates this spring, especially my classmates and fellow engineers at Montana State. I also need to wish Happy Mothers' Day to all the mothers in my life. My mom, my grandma, my aunt Chris, my aunt Janet, my sister Lic even though she's not a mother, and my sister Court all provide love and support that I couldn't live without. I love you all, and will see you again soon.