To farm or not to farm?
It’s somewhat tense to be living in a country on a limited visa. Although I know that I have plenty of time left here in Australia, you subconsciously record the amount of months that you have remaining. Not only counting down days, the working holiday visa also limits employment to 6 months at a time so it also means that I am counting down the days until I need to find my next job (and believe me it’s not easy to find someone to employ you for 6 months). Either way I have found myself at a fork in the road. Despite everything visa related, I have finally built a life here and forged a strong group of friends. We hang out, go to parties, meet new people and even have a group chat - now if that’s not a sign of true (modern day) friendship I don’t know what is. Most importantly I have a routine, a income and everyday I learn something more about my new home. Yet I now face the decision that every traveller must address whilst on the first year of their visa. This decision, of course, is to chose when to go and complete your farm work. For anyone that didn’t know, completing 3 months of rural work means you can extend your Australian work visa for an extra year (and take that year whenever you chose). I’ve heard first hand the regrets that many travellers have by not completing it and not allowing themselves at least the opportunity to return here, and so it’s without doubt I will undertake mine - but the question is when. The concept is simple but the decision is harder than you think. Many talk of the horror stories of workers exploitation, terrible pay and being simply bored out in the countryside. You also have to say goodbye to Melbourne friends, say goodbye to the house you took so long to find and essentially take to the road again. Four months into my visa, I technically have 5 more months remaining before I seriously have to consider leaving Melbourne for the outback - so what’s the rush? I am lucky enough to have devised a plan so perfect that it would be silly for me to not seize this opportunity. Unlike other backpacker farming work I have been posed with the opportunity to learn to be a Sheep Shearer. With a few days of training I can begin to get paid and the best thing about this transferable job is that it will allow me to travel from farm to farm working for contractors. What I am ultimately saying, is that I have the opportunity to spend 3 months circumnavigating the Australian outback on the road trip of a lifetime, with a close friend who has spent his life in this profession. It’s incredibly hard work but the promise of earning around $90 an hour in comparison to my current $25 p/h wage in soul destroying retail would be enough to convince anyone. We’d camp, save money and truly see Australia in a way that many don’t get to experience. The scent of adventure has returned. The prospect of the outback beckons and the knowledge that this is a once in a life-time opportunity to travel and earn money at the same time AND complete my farm work seems too good to be true. So as you can see I really do have a fork in the road. Do I tear myself away from my Melbourne life and embark on this adventure sooner or later? When is the best time to say goodbye to my friends? Is there ever a right time to leave the fine balance that I have carefully constructed here? What would you chose? If you must know, of course, I’ve already decided that I leave. Reminding myself that I am lucky enough not to be committed to my job, or a boyfriend or anyone else here in Melbourne just yet, I’ve decided to leave soon before anything changes my grip on such freedoms. My advice to anyone heading here would be to start your farm work first before you become too comfortable in your Australian home, because even now it’s hard for me to make such a decision and I know many feel the same way. My adventure will start at the beginning of April - I’m just yet to break the news to my group chat.
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Melbourne's White Night Festival
When I think of city-wide festivals, the only real experience I can relate to is London’s Notting Hill Carnival. The booze-fuelled two days sees West London on lock-down as millions of people head there to experience a true taste of London culture. Houses are boarded up, many of West London’s elite stick their noses up at the chaos and it certainly takes a while to clean up. So when I heard that a night long festival was coming up in Melbourne, starting at 7pm and ending at 7am I assumed this might be equally as rowdy an ordeal. Going by the name of White Night, I was pleasantly surprised however by how different the event turned out. The festival is now celebrated in over 20 countries and offers a night long display of art exhibitions and light installations that transform the entire city into a gallery. If you are willing to brace the crowds and fight off a few tourists, this is certainly worth a trip. As the sun began to set I cycled into the city and was quickly greeted by hordes of tourist, entire families and a series of road diversions. I shuddered at the thought of battling the crowds. I headed up to the main strip to find some friends and quickly ran in the opposite direction - it was almost impossible to move through the people - leaving me thinking that I might as well have given up there and then. After several confusing texts, re-grouping and mental preparation we braced ourselves for the ordeal to come and ventured in. It took us a good 10 minutes to cross the tourist traffic roaming across the main road but having made a break for it, we rushed to the nearest bottle shop to calm our nerves with a bottle of wine (naturally hidden in a brown paper bag because street drinking is terribly illegal here). As midnight loomed and the streets were still packed, we finally found what we had been looking for as we entered a large park illuminated with neon lights. Art installations decorated the darkening trees and noises and images were everywhere we turned in this immersive experience. In one corner a vast metal, musical pirate ship completely astounded on-looking crowds, whilst the main hall was projected with an amazing visual video that completely transformed the entire building into a work of modern art. It was mesmerizing and somewhat ‘trippy’ yet the experience was unfortunately dulled by one key factor (and a pet hate of mine). As I have previously mentioned I have become increasingly aware of people living through their phone screens and this experience was no different. As we stood in pitch darkness watching the light installation, it was somewhat thwarted by the thousands of white screens that I could see in front of my eyes filming the experience - even though their tiny screens could never capture the magnitude and magic of what was in front of us. As the night progressed, the wine warmed our bellies and we spent the duration battling crowds and wandering into buildings that had been transformed into art. There were food and market stalls around the city and a general ambience of fun and enjoyment amongst the crowds - I didn’t see a single disruption, or that many police come to think of it. There was swing dancing taking over one street, a big band on the other and various little gigs as the night slowly began to turn into sunrise and the crowds quietly slunk off to their beds. The next morning the city had resumed into its daily gring and white night quickly transformed into clear blue skies. The night had exposed and revived the arts scene of Melbourne and lured in thousands of people in a wonderful experience, one that I simply couldn’t imagine occurring within London (too much red tape). . As I look up I already see advertisements for the next cultural festivals running up in the city - yet again another reason why I love Melbourne. Exercising my freedom of speech on Brexit vs Australia.
It’s a scary revelation isn’t it, that we are now living in a culture where it doesn’t matter if the facts are right or not. Don’t like what you hear? There will probably be another article on google stating whatever will make you feel better. President called out for providing deceiving facts? Just shrug it off and blend it in with the variety of other facts he’s reeling off - and the crowd quickly forgets. I can demonstrate the prevalence of fake information quite quickly. If you were to ask me what’s happening in Syria I couldn’t really answer. Ask me about what’s happening between Russia and Ukraine, I’ve got no idea. Brexit? Well yeah we’re being fucked but I don’t actually know what’s happening there either. I studied politics. I completed a degree. I’ve stood in protests in London and I read multiple newspapers every day but I can’t give you solid answers about any political upheaval because of the way it’s reported. Because I hear new sides every day, more confusing information and before I know it all I can remember is the key facts. Our crisis is an overload of information from so many sources, mainly social media, which allows the ‘fake news’ to slip through easier than ever expected. So anyway based on the small facts that I know, and based on experience, here is my opinion about what’s coming up with Brexit - post fake news campaigns. Throughout the disastrous run up to the referendum I heard many people say we should have an immigration system similar to Australia. ‘Points based’ is what I heard people throw around. For some reason this country was somewhat idealised within the campaign, a fellow commonwealth state who was prospering beyond expectations. Want to be like Australia? Cool. This place is amazing, but also expect the following. 1. As soon as we leave the European Union prices will rocket. Like in Australia, your average groceries are staggering in price (even in Aldi) and as every package proudly states it was ‘Produced in Australia’ us Brits are overlooking one key factor. This country has multiple climates and with each state practically it’s own country and they genuinely have the space to grow all of this produce thanks to climates ranging from England to the tropics. Nonetheless it still costs to be self-sustaining and it is often cheaper to eat out than to buy ingredients and cook at home. So when that comes to England and you fancy nipping out for a cheap Kebab from that place down the road, you certainly should shed a tear at the fact you can’t have a tasty treat whilst the business is struggling with prospective immigration bans. Is that not enough for you? Ok some imports from neighbouring Asian countries might also be cheap, but it sure is a shame that the flight time to England from Asia is a lot longer than to Australia. 2. Australia has an island that holds most immigrants whilst they are processing. Sure, how do you feel about turning the Isle of Wight into a detention centre? Or given that the fake news warns of millions of immigrants, let’s just use Ireland instead. Even a country as vast as Australia is treating immigrants in an inhumane way and you often hear the stories of the detention island - and it’s fucked. Either way the immigrants that my country is so pathetically scared about mainly don’t come from Europe anyway. So how about that - keeping immigrants out won’t be stopped by leaving the EU - and even Australia has a crisis on their hands still, so why idealise that? 3. The word of the year in Australia is ‘Halal Snack Pack’, which is a tasty food that is equally as addictive as it is calorific. So as you can see whatever ‘points based’ system that keeps people out of Australia doesn’t stop a vast and beautiful integration of communities. It doesn’t stop the muslims eating their own food and praying at their mosques, and it certainly doesn’t stop them experiencing a constant battle against racism in their homeland of Australia. Muslims, as many Leave votes think, are not the problem. It’s the negative reporting on the minority of this community that is. And so, as we build a metaphoric wall with Europe and segregate ourselves from the world, and as the old man sitting at home comments at how the streets are whiter, we have more ‘jobs’. And we all quietly feel sorry for how he is harking back to his youth in his head, before the EU, without accepting that time has changed. And whilst we formally separate from the union, to which without I wouldn’t exist (thanks for having a Czech mum) I leave you with one final thought. Our generation has been left with borders we didn’t vote for, without job prospects and without the ability to ever buy a home in this market but we do have one thing. We have the opportunity to travel, to jump on a plane and see the world before those borders close even further. We have the opportunity to meet other cultures, to make new friends and see with our own eyes what the real news is. Enough of this fake bollocks. And when we finally have our chance, as a generation, to run our country and our world - I promise you that we will reverse every racist, backward thinking policy in attempt to better what we have left with. And you’ll be left asking us where the backspace key is on a keyboard made in the European Union. Hosting a Couchsurfer
Having been in Australia almost four months now it appears that I am slowly easing into being a veteran on the traveler trail. On many occasions I have found myself giving advice to new arrivals and often reassuring them that the tedious house and job hunt is temporary - as long as you stick it out. In return I’ve lost count of how many people have told me that I’m brave for making it this far and lucky for really finding a support group of like-minded, well-connected friends. I suppose I am. Yet I am quick to remind commentators that I was incredibly close to leaving if it wasn’t for one single friend urging me to not give up, and reminding me it wasn’t meant to be easy. The truth still remains that finding a comfortable living situation was the toughest leg of my journey and so it felt natural for me to now return the favours that I had so long promised to do. Logging onto Couchsurfing gave me goosebumps at first, as the memories of angst and homelessness came flooding back. But this time with a great big corrugated roof already over my head, it seemed a natural rite of passage to allow some people to stay at my place. The first issue I quickly noticed was that the majority of people who contacted me were lone male travellers. This of course isn’t a bad thing but meant that they required deep social media stalking to make sure they were who they said they were before I welcomed them into my home. Receiving a message from a new Canadian traveller and after adequate screening I agreed to allow the guy to stay indefinitely as he found his feet in Melbourne. Walking up to the train station and spotting a young looking guy with a huge, new backpack brought back even more memories (positive ones of the prospect of being in a new city). I was jealous that he was at the beginning of his trip and found it funny that his clothes were still clean and his backpack was still light - as that was bound to change quite soon. Arriving at my warehouse and ushering him through a tiny Alice in Wonderland style door, I could see his hesitation quickly switch into amazement at the place inside (because yes it’s pretty fucking cool). I couldn’t have timed it better as that evening an impromptu party happened at mine and we spent the time mingling with a large array of Aussies and drinking. Making a bed for him on my sofa we quickly slipped into routine where I would go to work and he would spend the days wandering around the city. We’d cook together in the evenings, discuss where else he could explore and even took a few day trips to places that I was yet to see in Melbourne. In some sense, with our makeshift kitchen and frequent visitors I had prepared him for the excitement of hostel living and he had saved a tonne of money by sleeping on my sofa rent free. It was over a week before my Canadian couchsurfer left for the Great Ocean Road with more people he had met on the app. I admit that I was relieved to finally have my space back and could just lie in bed watching a film without worrying about guests. Although relieved I have also made a friend, learned a little more and feel that I passed on some snippets of travelling advice that he will find useful (I totally felt like the older, wiser sister to him). What I could take from this is that Couchsurfing is easy once you get the hang of it and by messaging people well in advance you tend to find some kind host out there. Sure he would have made more global friends in a hostel, but I argue that couchsurfing still remains the best way to see a city (as long as you find a cool host like me). Indigenous Australians & Negative Stereotypes
‘Get yourself a fucking job!’ a rowdy woman shouted at me, utterly unprovoked, as I quietly sat near the library in Perth. I was stunned and so was everyone around me. As she stumbled off, it became apparent that she was extremely drunk and I guess I was simply an easy target for her to uncontrollably shout at. She walked over to a larger group of aboriginal teens and they continued to drink - they were wearing shabby clothes, smoking, some of them had bad teeth and there was a general air of avoidance from the surrounding public. This was my first direct contact with someone from the aboriginal community and I doubt it will be my last. But what followed from this encounter was an increased awareness of this minority group who often weaved in and out of the festival shouting and laughing at performers, bullying in some senses, yet still maintaining a strong presence within the city. What was most eye-opening was that the indigenous people who hung around the city, without fail, were always drunk and consciously being avoided by everyone (literally a circle of empty seats would usually sit around them). With my previous knowledge of aboriginal culture simmering down to seeing a happy aboriginal side-kick in Crocodile Dundee, I was angry at not knowing more about the history of my second home. I was even angrier that whenever I asked anyone about the indigenous community that they would fall into relaying a negative stigma. I’m left wondering why the city dwelling aboriginals are shunned and why they are living up to a negative stereotype and are always drunk and rowdy? So I thought I’d make myself more informed. Assuming roughly 3% of the population of Australia, it’s impossible not to see vast aboriginal influences throughout every single Australian city. With areas named Werribee and Uluru it is quickly evident that the only thing that hasn’t been stolen from these areas through colonisation is their original names. A quick google however reveals the first massive hurdle this group of people face, as I am greeted with news paper articles of negative headlines that quickly reaffirm the notion of avoiding the drunken people we encounter on the street. The product of the stolen generation, many children were withdrawn from their families (as late as the 1970s) and interned in church missions in an attempt to integrate the children into a westernised way of living. The negative connotations and the abuse that surrounds this is staggering and a part of history that I believe many Australians remain in the dark about. Continue reading and you discover more and more stories about indigenous communities that are hooked on substance abuse, incredibly high unemployment and very sadly low life expectancy. Reluctant to integrate this issue lays open to a vast segregation where the air of avoidance, prejudice and discrimination is rife - leaving me questioning ‘how can this be allowed to happen in 2017?’ Oh wait, need I remind you that this hatred and reluctance is now happening all over the world. The question of why I have only encountered indigenous people who live up to a negative stereotype is incredibly sad, yet a topic that I can’t truly address without more investigation. I could make a sweeping assumption that this exists as a form of rebellion, and an expression of freedom against structures that for so long kept them constrained and restricted in alien regimes. Perhaps it’s clear this is a community still grieving for what happened in the past, still coming to terms with the absolute destruction of their way of life. What I take away from this, at least, is an awareness that this is a deeply complicated topic cannot be ignored. Beer-fueled sightseeing in Perth
I fell in love with Perth almost immediately. It might have been the change in climate, the scenery, the beautiful beaches or the excitement of arriving in a new city that sent me reeling back to former days of travelling but I was certainly enthusiastic. Arriving at my couchsurfing destination I was plunged into a routine of reviewing shows and sitting in countless coffee shops writing to deadlines. When I wasn’t ‘working’ I’d be wandering around the small city and more importantly wandering around Fringeworld. The arts festival takes over most city locations and means that the streets are far more populated than usual (I hear Perth is actually relatively boring when not donned in celebrations and festivals). It meant that I was never bored and never far from a street performer, audiences and plenty of open bars. Yet I was faced with two dilemmas. Firstly, I was curious to see what the city really had to offer when you strip away the Fringe festival and secondly I once again found myself friendless, and not living in a hostel meant it was difficult to get any conversations started. Luckily, both these features were set to change in one quick successive night. After a long day of writing I made my way to the artist bar in hope of speaking to some actors. Grabbing a beer and taking a seat in the corner it quickly dawned on me that it is incredibly daunting to simply approach a group of strangers. I played with that thought for a while. Four beers down and I was yet to even make eye contact with anyone and, spending about an hour playing on Tinder, was a little disheartened that no-one had approached me to ask whether I was alone and wanted to hang out. I was about to give-up and leave when I tried one last ditch attempt and drunkenly walked over to a seated group of guys and without thinking uttered, ‘I’ve got no friends, can I drink with you?’ Of course I was welcomed into the fold quickly and as more drinks unravelled so did an elaborate plan to explore the city in 24 hours. The night was coming to a close around 3am yet one Perth local was adamant that this was not the end of the bar tour. Hopping into his car (he wasn’t drinking) we then took a late night drive to King’s Park which offers panoramic views of the city lights below before breaking into the Tree Top walk which bridges wildlife with more city views. It was incredibly dark and most routes were lined with new, dewy cobwebs (you could feel them sticking to you) but this did not deter our adventure. As the sun began to rise we then headed to our next hidden location which was situated by the coast. Arriving at a derelict powerhouse overlooking the sea was fascinating and also a little disheartening thanks to a series of barbed wire fences and security guards watching the perimeter. It took a while for us to establish a break-in point yet timed it perfectly to slink past, climb under fences and make a dash for the interior and it was totally worth it (despite the risk of a $10,000 fine for trespassing). Like something you’d imagine exists in Berlin, the abandoned power house was totally gutted but also filled with decades of graffiti and shattered glass and if you climb to the roof you can see a fantastic view of the indian ocean in front. After a few hours of galavanting around the abandoned building and keeping a low profile amidst security risks we then drove to a fantastic burger joint resting at the side of a busy road. Famous amongst Perth locals this under-rated spot allows you to order the best burger whilst casually sitting by the side of the road on a bench (and they weren’t wrong). And the day wasn’t over yet. Factoring in how widely spread out the city is, the driving around had taken up most of the day and as the sun began to set again we had one final stop on the whirlwind off-beat Perth tour. Zig Zag is the name of a road that literally does that, from the top of a mountain to the bottom. Popular with boy racers and tourists, we drove up the mountain to catch even better views of the city before quickly falling asleep in the car overlooking the evening lights. A couple of hours later, waking up in a slight confused rush, we zig zagged down the route back to the city and ended in the bar that we had started in 24 hours earlier (onto the next night of adventures). The mini tour taught me so much about the city and it was incredible. I was not only surprised by the generosity of what was then a stranger, I was also quickly reminded how easy it is to make friends in a foreign city when you are honest and also reminded how much easier life would be if I knew how to drive. Either way this set up my week and gave me the group of friends that I had been briefly searching for, and I ultimately had a fantastic experience before heading back to Melbourne (which I had scarily started seeing as ‘home’) as a published writer. On a side note, some of you might think that this is a perfect date day (and I’m sure my tour guide must have done the route before with former guests) but ever to keep you all on your toes and in an ironic turn of events, I actually ended up going on a few dates with the bartender who served me that first lonely beer. Oh I’ll certainly miss Perth. |
Tamara DavisonNepal, China, Malaysia, Australia, Argentina. Archives
November 2017
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