A Series of Fortunate Events

Sitting in bed after a delicious meal, full and tired – but happy. Today was our first day off since the 17^th of October. The first chance I have to sit down and put all the stories I have been writing in my head for the last three weeks.

I left off on somewhat of a negative note – no work, overheating car, hot and bothered. So I am all the more excited to finally be writing down our series of fortunate events…

Adios, Hot Momma

All the finger-crossing, knocking-on-wood, hoping-and-praying or mechanical tricks could not save our perfectly equipped but mechanically challenged (to put it nicely) van that we lovingly dubbed Hot Momma. She spent some time at Darren’s (our trusty mechanic here in Katherine), who did everything in his power (except fix the engine for 3000$) to cool her down. The last resorts were some bottles of liquid stuff that is supposed to seal leaks from the inside – to no avail. Her temper(ature) just kept rising every time we took her out.

But due to another very fortunate event (more specifics later), we moved into a real room two weeks ago and decided to try our luck at selling her. Since we never really got the chance to love her, the way a traveler should love his/her home on wheels, that decision came easy. We put an ad up on gumtree.com and two days later met up with a Korean couple who had just arrived in Australia and had realized that having an own means of transportation makes life so much easier. They did not seem interested in all the cool stuff I showed them in and around the van – and just remarked on how camping experienced we must be. Then they test drove it around the block… or more like Moritz test drove it for them, because he didn’t seem to know how to drive a manual car. Hmmm… She was more interested in inviting me to a cup of ice cream in the supermarket (which she visits every day). The second test drive was more of a test hobble hobble croak hobble hobble croak. He tried and decided he needed a bit more practice.

The next day, we brought them Hot Momma and said our goodbyes.

Believe me, we felt like complete jerks and our conscience was killing us. I mean, we know how it feels to be sold a dud. We have already accepted that karma will get to us and we will probably be born as ants in our next life, only to be fried on the pavement by a kid with a looking glass. But oh well… Given our situation – no money and shitty car – and theirs – too much money and no car (and no clue about cars or driving whatsoever) – it also kind of felt like fate was throwing us a bone, here in Katherine, NT.

(New) Wheels Keep On Turning

Although we were alright without a car and knew that people would give us a ride into town every once in a while if we needed to, by some strange coincidence, we ended up with a new set of wheels within the week. One of our fellow shed-workers decided he had had enough of the mangoes and booked a flight to Nepal (jealous!). Once again, the puzzle pieces matched. Us – a little bit more money, no car – him – enough money, car. So he sold us his ‘95 Holden Commodore Acclaim station wagon for 600$. It looks like it belongs onto a junk yard (though there might actually be more attractive vehicles there), but the V6 engine still roars and took us to 140km/h in a flash – without overheating! Of course, it has a few questionable character traits… Such as a trunk that doesn’t stay open without a stick holding it up, a glove compartment that falls into your lap when you open it, the fabric of the ceiling held in place by thumb tacks and a crack or two in the windshield and a seemingly endless amount of dust and dirt left by the previous owner. But the one thing we definitely need to get fixed is the driver’s door. The former owner had had a little run in with a post on the sidewalk, while driving under the influence with the door open. It is a bit bent out of shape and doesn’t really open and close as it should. That wouldn’t be too much of a problem, if it weren’t for the window not closing anymore. So at the moment, Moritz gets to climb in over the passenger side or through the window (though when he does it, it does not look quite as cool as in the Dukes of Hazard).

Tomorrow we will take another quick trip into town (now that we can go into town on our own volition and actually be quick) and look for a wrecker that has an extra door lying around.

Our new wheels - still need a name though...

Night And Day OR Hi Ho Hi Ho, It’s Off To Work We Go

One day, about two and a half weeks ago, Moritz came to me with a proposal from Marie, the owner of Manbulloo and our big boss. She offered us a position on the night shift. Doesn’t sound too enticing, huh? Well, in addition to making us the supervisors of the nightshift (meaning more responsibility and a tad bit more money), she would throw in an air-conditioned room rent-free. So, sleeping in the van for 60$/person/week and working during the hottest hours as a packer (Moritz already was supervisor) VS sleeping in a free air-con room and becoming the bosses of the packers…?

I am not much of a night person. So I was a bit nervous about that, but the deal was just too good to pass up.

So now we live in a room that has a bed and a table in it and a hole in the wall. That hole leads into the kitchen, which all the bosses and managers (our neighbors left and right) use. After a few nights with only a standing up bed frame covered with a blanket between us and the sounds and smells of said kitchen, we covered it with a long piece of cardboard (+ the bedframe and blanket). There’s still a couple of centimeters open at the top, a crack that lets in some light, the occasional conversation between bosses or the mouthwatering smell of a steak we could never afford at the moment – but other than that our improvised sliding door works quite well.

The upside to moving into the room next to the kitchen is that we get to use it. A real stove, an oven, a toaster, a toaster-oven, a microwave and a water boiler and even a little room in the freezer – pure luxury after cooking on butane gas burners in the howling wind. And now that we are earning a bit, we’ve been allowing ourselves the occasional piece of meat and more vegetables (that are not carrots). So this week it was a big pack of ground beef and a giant bell pepper. Just to put this in perspective for you – 1,2kg of ground beef cost around 6$ (the absolute cheapest you can buy, usually beef starts at around 13$/kg) and one single red bell pepper cost us almost 5$! That kind of baffled me, being used to three bell peppers for 80 cents in Berlin… But damn, did that Bolognese taste good. And so did the burritos we made for dinner the next day. And the chili con carne the day after that. And I’m sure we will enjoy the tub of frozen chili some day soon as well. Now that we are really working, good food with real nutrients has become essential. Without a few vitamins, minerals and proteins every once in a while, we would probably shrivel up or collapse or something. We do still eat our fair share of instant noodles, canned stuff and toast, but every once in a while I get to enjoy cooking again and we both can get excited about a bell pepper.

An example of one of our "deluxe" dinners - a tiny steak, potatoes, sauteed onions and a salad (cooked by me)

An example of one of our post-work snacks - canned tuna thai curry style with toast and/or rice (cooked by Moritz:"Here you go, honey. Enjoy!")

But to actually find the time and energy to cook (or clean or read or write or watch a movie or…) has become increasingly difficult. A bit over a week ago, we started working at 7pm (before that is was 4pm). The sun starts setting behind the shed, as we make our way to start our shift.

While Moritz was made supervisor before we moved to the night shift, he basically just does his thing. He was brought in to save the day and turn a bunch of lazy and chaotic stackers into a functioning team – with success. He has some quirky characters to keep in check, but it seems to be going quite well.

I, on the other hand, didn’t really know what to expect. All I had seen of Carol’s job (my supervisor on the day shift), was that she ran around a lot. And after a day of following her footsteps and getting trained in the job, I knew why. My responsibilities range from making sure all the materials are there – providing stickers for the machines, cleaning these machines, lugging boxes of inlets from storage to the tables, having band aids on the ready etc. – to making sure the process of getting the mangoes into the boxes runs smoothly – keeping an eye on the graders and watching that they throw away the bad stuff (and only bad stuff), coordinating with the quality controller (another Berliner girl) who checks the packed boxes, moving around the packers so the bins don’t overflow etc. I also coordinate the clean up, lug around big blue crates of mangoes to bring back to the sizing machine, stand by the conveyor belt, examine the trays and take back the occasional tray to the packer to tell him/her what’s wrong with it. In between I make sure the shed stays tidy, the time sheets are filled out and there is a constant supply of cool drinking water. And finally, I pack. So yes, basically I run around a lot.

We take a 15min break at 9:30, a 30min “lunch” break at midnight and another 15min Smoko between 2:30 and 3:15, depending on how many bins of fruit are left. The last week has been 10-11h of work, meaning up to 12h in the shed. Our muscles are sore, our backs hurt, the soles of my feet protest loudly when I slip on my shoes (though I must say that I am forever grateful for mommy dearest making be buy some good shoes that I would have never ever before bought or worn – they are saving my life! And definitely no longer look like I bought them 2 months ago). We have bruises all over our legs – I have a big fat one that looks like the Australian continent on the top of my thigh from resting boxes of mangoes on it and a few little ones. Moritz’s legs look a little like leopard print from pallet jacks, walking into belts and tables and stuff like that. I spent the last few days working with my wrist bandaged up, because it was getting quite painful to bend (in either direction). And Moritz smashed his thumb with a hammer yesterday. And although it did finally stop bleeding after a few hours, it will probably turn a nice dark shade of purple in the next days.

So you can only imagine how much our bodies are enjoying this evening off, lying in bed, moving nothing but our fingers on the keyboard (and the occasional wave of the hand to get rid of a bug).

But generally, the body can get used to everything. And putting it to the test the way we have been has once again proven this fact. I could have never imagined myself working a night shift, sleeping during the day and doing this 7 days a week. But surprisingly, after a few days, my body clock has done a 180. We wake up in the afternoon – at first automatically between 3pm and 4pm, but lately only thanks to an alarm around 5pm.

Then there’s the question of food… Last week I craved lunch at breakfast time, breakfast after work and it was all very confusing. By now we have cereals at 5:30pm, “real” food at midnight and a snack after work.

And getting errands done – cleaning, laundry, shopping etc. – takes a bit more coordination and planning. A lot of shops close at 5pm (such as the wreckers from which we still need a new car door), so the alarm needs to be set earlier on days we have to head into town. Laundry has to be thrown in the second we finish work, so the few pieces of clothing dedicated to being thrown away after this job can dry till the next shift. And today, our first evening off, was spent finally cleaning up our one table covered in ¾ kitchen and ¼ bathroom.

Only actual “chill time” suffers a bit. I haven’t done yoga in ages, though it would probably do me quite good right now. I am still reading the same book as 2 weeks ago. And our series is progressing in half episode intervals – half an episode at breakfast and half after work ;) And every second day I (and my tired limbs) wish I could just stay in bed for a little while longer…

But work is work and work is good. Another day another (200) dollar(s) ;) And every time it hurts just a bit too much or I just don’t want to get out of bed or I want to curse them mangoes and Northern Territory and the lot, I remind myself that one measly night of work here might mean a few beautiful days traveling Asia. And that is motivation enough.

Sunrises, Bugs, & Rain (for lack of a better title)

An upside to working the night shift is the previously unimaginable amount of sunrises I have experienced in the last weeks. By the time I get out of the shower, the sky behind our container (have I mentioned that our room is in a big blue container) turns all shades of cotton candy. The outline of mango trees on the paddock is still gray, then slowly the colors emerge and we listen to the world waking up, as the still of the night slowly fades. The birds that used to wake us up are now wakened by us. And by the time we lock ourselves into our dark, cold cave to sleep, we have felt the first pleasantly warm (and not brutally hot) rays of sunlight on our faces. Just as pleasantly warm as those, that blind us when we reemerge from hibernation in the late afternoon. (Though I have to say, that the lack of sunlight has kind of drained the nice tan I had before the switch).

Sunrise and mango trees

Our room in the container

Another little thing that comes with turning into a night owl is the whole new set of creatures. The day has flies and the occasional mosquito, we have moths. They are black and white and annoyingly hyperactive. They wait outside our door and flood in when we open it, or hitch a ride on my back, my hair…. They have become little friends who like to come cuddle with me on top of my blanket, only to wake me when I make sudden moves, by flying right around my face. They are all over the place… The roof of the shed, illuminated by big halogen tubes, is covered in them. They dive into the bins and boxes of mangoes. The other day, I’m sitting on the toilet, wondering what that strange noise is – kind of like water in a tin kettle starting to boil – and look up. More moths. They leave their fine dark dust everywhere…and decide to die in the strangest places. Today I found one inside my sock. So I chase them with a Tupperware and notepad and literally throw them out the door – for around 20minutes an evening.

And with the changing weather, there are so many more and diverse insects around – beetles, flying ants (the ones that fly a few circles and then die) and strange bugs I have never seen before, huuuuge, mean looking ones with long antlers. Maybe the large amount of bugs is why the frogs in the bathroom are no longer in the toilet, but all hiding, neatly in a row, in the creases of the corrugated walls.

Slowly but surely the season is changing. The air is getting more humid and the harsh winds have settled. Two nights ago it rained. Heavenly. We were working, when all of a sudden it just poured. Heavenly. It smelled so good. It felt so good. It was like a sudden burst of energy that I haven’t felt in too long. It made me miss the water, being near it and being in it. The sound was deafening, as it beat down on the steel roofing. The wind was cold and everyone woke up instantly. Some had to run to their tents and try and rescue some stuff. Moritz had to run to the car and tape up our window with a garbage bag.

Aside from lifting my spirits, the rain caused a few blackouts in the shed. Though strangely enough, the lights above the packing tables stayed on, so it made for a great atmosphere (I still regret not having my camera on me). Half of the shed wanted candles and romance, the other half started singing and hoping we’d turn it into a party. We just continued working (but with that little tingle of excitement in the corner of our smiles).

When we clocked out, it was still raining. The day shift was just waking up and climbing out of soggy tents to asses the damages (like a guitar filled to the brim with water, for example). No picking. No work the next day/night.

And that’s why I am here, finally getting to tell whoever reads this blog all about our last weeks here. Finally getting the stories out of my head and onto the page.

This morning, the first sunny morning since the rain, the grass is green, there was dew dripping onto us during our end-of-work cigarette, the trees were blooming red and yellow and the skies were blue.

In life, in travels as in nature…“after the sun comes rain, after the rain comes sun again…”.

A day in the life of Waiting-To-Work

Katherine, 19.10.2014

After 19 days of camping on the Manbulloo farm, we are starting to wonder if the mangoes will ever be ripe for the picking. 19 days, of which 1 was an induction, 2 were training and one week as been “work”. Why the parenthesis, you ask? Because I wouldn’t call 3h and a couple of boxes of mangoes work. Our first paycheck won’t even cover food (despite living off the cheapest pasta with the cheapest tomato sauce, rice with canned vegetables and toast) and “rent” for our little camp under the tree.

Our, and by “us” I mean every backpacker living here at the moment, frustration is growing by the day. We were promised up to 60h a week and just can’t see that happening at the moment. There are too many employees, the envisioned day and night shift system apparently failed them last season (one of the many rumors going around camp) and the farm’s decision to try again this year is incomprehensible. But what can we do? Many of us are stuck here, having spent too much time, money and efforts to get here and live here, in the hopes of earning a good salary to continue traveling.

So we stay, work the few hours we are given and grit our teeth, hoping that the next day will bring us more – more hours, more mangos and more perspective.

Enough whining… As promised in the title, I’ll try my best to give you a positive account of our days here – the days in the life of Waiting-To-Work.

7:00am – The alarm clock rings and although I have been awake a few times already – once because it got too cold (turn off the fan), once because it got too hot (turn on the fan), once because the early rays of sunlight shone straight into my eyes (turn around in the van) and once because of the (literal) early birds catching the worm and being much too vocal about it – I don’t really feel like getting up yet. The prospect of getting up, making breakfast and tea, signing in at work and getting signed off, once again, earlier than promised, is just not very enticing. But we do it anyways. The mornings are cool and fresh, but by the time we’re sitting at the table eating cereal with fruit (the only fresh vitamins we allow ourselves to spend on), the sun creeping into our camp is already as warm as Germany’s midday summer sun.

8:00am – We are all at our stations. Moritz organizes his post-pack stacking crew and I pull down two boxes, label them with a sticker that has my personal packer’s number on it, put in two plastic inlays and wait for the first fruit to roll through the grading table, along the sizing-machine and into my bin.

From then on, we work. A steady rhythm of grab two mangoes, place them in the correct spots in the box (to hide blemishes), grab two more etc… till the box is full. A quick shake to see it they are wedged in tight enough and then send it on down the line. There is gets pushed onto the right station, stacked onto pallets, which are wrapped and brought to the cool room, from where they are loaded onto road-trains and dispatched all over the country. And then one day, an unsuspecting customer at Cole’s supermarket will pick up one of the mangoes that a contract-worker from Samoa or Fiji has picked, I have packed, Moe has stacked and some sleep deprived road-train driver has taken halfway around this very large country.

10:00am – Smoke’O is what the Aussies call the 15min paid break that is given twice a day (considering you work a whole day). So we do as they say – have a smoke, share a muesli bar and back to work. Or so we think…

Between 11:00am and 12:00nn – Mid-box all of a sudden the dreaded call echoes through the shed: “Finished!”. We groan, pack up the last box and walk to the table, hand in our packing-tags, grab a few rejected mangoes and trudge back to camp. Yet another day with less than a handful hours and over half a day of time to kill.

12:00nn – Lunch. Because we are not yet under the 30min time pressure of a lunch break, we take our time preparing our pasta/rice/toast and do our best to enjoy it. Our camp neighbors do the same. Conversations around camp circle mostly around the same thing – Why are we not working? Though at some point this subject is given up on and we go on to more enjoyable topics – Where have you traveled to? What are your plans? What does your “normal” life look like back home?

After lunch till bedtime – The day just has too many hours when you’d rather be spending them earning money. But we find ways to pass the time (we have to, to stay sane). During the first week, once of the favorite pastimes was constructing a livable camp. The sounds of hammering and the rustling of tarps created a constant backdrop of busy buzzing. Broken pallets were turned into tables, kitchen counters and shelves. Tarps were hung to create much needed shade. One German couple even built a little shed with old corrugated steel, to shield them off from sun, noise and view. Lanterns and colorful lights make some camps look quite comfortable and fun.

Our little corner of camp, consisting of an English couple, two French guys traveling together, one French guy and his Pajero (which I am totally jealous of) and us, all sleep in their vans/cars and have a tent set up to store food and unnecessary stuff. The clotheslines between the trees look like colorful garlands blowing in the wind. Though they are almost unnecessary, as laundry dries here within 20mins out in the dry hot air.

Some do crossword puzzles, some watch movies. We also play Uno. Many many rounds of Uno. I have read about 4 books – all of the Jo Nesbo series. Detective Harry Hole has become my constant companion. I live vicariously through him, as he brings me the excitement lacking in my day. I read about him solving murders in the snow and ice of Norway, while the sweat drips down my back and the glimmering heat distorts the mango trees along the horizon. Feels a bit odd sometimes.

Every few days I do some yoga. Sweating (a bit more) feels good and productive. And tuning into my breath helps tune out everything else that’s not going as hoped. The heat makes me limber, but the amount of flies (that seems to be increasing by the day) make it harder to concentrate. Also, I don’t think that you’re supposed to breath in, breath out, breath in, puff out to get rid of a fly on your nose, breath in, breath out, breath in, puff out to get rid of a fly in your eyes, and so on… But either way, I am glad that I am not letting that routine slip. Others go running – sheer insanity in this weather if you ask me – or find hollow blocks to use as dumbbells, trees to do pull ups on and do push ups in the dry grass. I wonder how long these exercise routines will be kept up once work gets going.

The occasional trip to town to shop turns into a mission to override boredom and we stroll through the aisles at a leisurely pace. Until we don’t feel like looking at all the yummy stuff we can’t afford anyways and leave.

The hot springs (which aren’t hot, but a nice refreshing coolish-warmish temperature) are good for a little dip on the way home, but kind of lose their charm after the umpteenth time.

Last night, Moritz and Tanis (one of our French campmates) built a sink. After a clogged drainage system sent our facilities into a literal up-whirl (yuck!), the sinks in the toilet and washroom became off limits for dishes. But doing dishes under a little faucet under a palm in our plastic basin was quite the ordeal. So old pallets, our little basin, a hose and some silicone sealant were turned into a little counter with a sink. Highlight of our Saturday evening!

And then it’s time to cook again. Usually before it gets dark. Eating early is supposed to be healthier anyways. And for some reason, doing nothing can make you quite hungry.

I shower around sunset. It’s a strategically well thought out time – early enough not to be tapping around in the dim lighting of the facilities, but late (and cool) enough to enjoy the consistently warm water coming out of the solar power heated pipes (and by that I just mean the sun beating down on them all day). It’s also early enough for the cane toads to still be hiding in their holes, but late enough so you won’t be sweaty and sticky again by the time you go to bed.

The evenings are cool and the last few days even cool enough (for me) to put on a thin sweater and remember what fabric covering your arms feels like. Some nights we bring our chairs to our neighbors, sit around and chat. Some nights we crawl into bed and watch a few episodes. Then it’s lights out and time to dream about different places, active days and ripe mangoes.

Manbulloo Mangos - Pictures

And here, to color in the lines drawn by my previous post, some pictures of 

our camp, workplace and home - the Manbulloo Ltd. Mango Farm.

 Our shady tree in front of the Manbulloo shed.

 The daily sunset spectacular. Red sky. Red earth.

 New record on the girls' bathroom - 10 frogs in 1 toilet!

 Our home sweet home - a storage tent and our van lovingly dubbed "hot momma" with a tarp-terrace

US... sometimes you forget what you look like out here. 

Here we go again...

Katherine, 08.10.2014

The screen of my laptop is being rattled by the hot, dry wind, my own reflection and that of the red earth behind me bouncing up and down, as I try to gather my thoughts and put them on paper – something I haven’t done in a very long time.

I find myself back in Katherine, Northern Territory, Australia. Back on the Manbulloo Ltd. Mango farm. Back to “where it all started” four years ago – when looking at it from “our” point of view. Back to work. Back to the beginning of something new.

Saying bye (again) to the city I have grown to love and call (yet another) home, saying bye to the friends who have filled the last years with forever-cherished memories and finally, saying bye to my little sister, roommate and best friend, whom I cannot thank enough for the shared time, space, life and love… It is never easy to close the book on one chapter and this time was only different in the sense that it was even harder than the last time.

But once those little thoughts start to develop into ideas, evolve into dreams and finally turn into a plan… there is no turning back. And the excitement and anticipation takes over.

Mo and I left Berlin in April and spent 5 wonderful months in the Philippines – at home – in the company of family and friends. From the remote islands of Palawan to the mountain villages of Kalinga,  the everyday life in Manila, a sleep-deprived Football World Cup and day trips to Tagaytay, the underwater world of Anini-y and waves crashing ashore Siargao island – I was once again confronted with the beauty and magnificence that this country has to offer and was proud and excited to be able to share it with Mo and the friends and family that made the journey to the islands to visit us. We experienced the hospitality that Filipinos are famous for with every fiber of our bodies and felt the honesty in the warm smiles welcoming us to our next adventure.

After 8 years of being oceans away from my family, it was comforting and relaxing to feel the nearness and warmth of just having them there. I reconnected with my home in a way that no 4-week vacation leaves room for and am already looking forward to tend to my roots in the future.

And then, just like that, our time there came to an end. Our applications for the Second Year Working Holiday Visa were granted, our first and much needed job was approved and, quicker than expected, our flights were booked and more teary-eyed goodbyes said.

We landed in Darwin at 4:30am on the 16^th of September. And that’s when the rollercoaster up ups and downs, highs and lows, luck and misfortune started… After almost no sleep, the very early check in at the YMCA was heaven sent. Our room resembled a prison cell – bare walls, an iron frame bed and a whirring ceiling fan – quite the change from the comfort we experienced in Manila. But hey, we are backpackers again! Darwin itself was still familiar, so the walk to the supermarket and down to the man-made lagoon felt more like revisiting a former well-known holiday destination instead of the start of a new adventure. Not wanting to spend a lot of time and money in Darwin, we got right on it and within the first 24h we had re-opened our bank accounts, re-activated our tax file numbers and re-adjusted to buying only things on sale and living mostly off pasta.

After 48h we had looked at a handful of camper vans for sale and after 72h we had bought one.

The first night in our ’99 Mazda E2000 was involuntarily spent on a free campsite by the “Window to the Wetlands”. After driving out of Darwin, happy to be checked out of our 75$-a-night cell, we didn’t realize that it was too late to check into a caravan park and had no choice but to drive a few more kilometers. We were greeted by screeching bats and an uncomfortable amount of flying, crawling and stinging creatures. Tired and grumpy about the long drive back into town the next day, I climbed into bed and had a short episode of claustrophobia. Was it just me, or was this bed really close to the ceiling? It must have been, because that night, I had a vivid dream of being locked into the trunk of a car and  woke myself and Mo up because I heard myself say aloud “I don’t want to be in here”. After calming down, curing disorientation and shortness of breath, I meditated myself back to sleep.

For those to whom we haven’t bragged yet – the van is equipped and decked out! Roof rack, bull bar, water tank on the roof with a tap next to the trunk, a second battery system, an electric cool box, a nice little pull-out kitchen filled with new and complete cooking set, loads of storage space and a little commode inside next to the bed – and many more goodies that we found while cleaning. Felt a bit like those “Wundertüten” (surprise goodie bags) I used to buy as a kid, where you never know what you might pull out.

However – and here’s the downside – it needed a bit of work done. We knew that and had bargained with the seller (who was desperate to leave the country and ended up going down over 1000$). So we took it to the mechanic to get the little quirks evened out. It cost surprisingly little and we were elated! After our second stint in our YMCA-cell, we were itching to hit the road. After all, I missed Kakadu and Litchfield National Parks (due to fixing my car, btw) last time around.

But it just wasn’t meant to be. After only 40km or so, the needle of out temperature gauge started climbing and shortly after that we were standing by the side of the road – the engine red hot, the radiator bubbling over and us with our heads in our hands.

And we crawled back to Darwin with our tails between our legs. The receptionists at the YMCA didn’t know if we were checking out or checking in. Luckily, a friendly Aussie staying at the Y, had seen us come and go and heard about our car troubles, offered to take a look and found the problem – a broken thermo fan and the entire grid stuck up with mud. So we bought a new one, hosed everything down and our jolly friend helped install it. Yay!

We still had time for one national park…

Or not. This time, the heat came a bit later, but it still came. Back into the cell.  Back to the mechanic.

Apparently the thermostat was stuck. Easy fix.

By then, time had passed and we had to get to Katherine. Thinking we were finally good to go, we hit the road with a record-breaking 80km/h, only to have to slow it down to 60km/h after an hour due to a rapid increase in temperature. Damnit! This time, we did not/could not turn around. So, we cruised to Katherine. 300km in 7h. Overtaken by everything but our own shadow.

We brought in our van to the mechanic today. Set up a large tent and moved us and everything we own into it. Fingers crossed. This is our last resort and if Darren, the only mechanic in Katherine who even agreed to take a look at it (apparently all workshops here stay away from backpacker cars), can’t find and fix the problem, we will crawl back to Darwin after the season and hopefully sell it to the next poor sucker. Sounds downright evil, I know, but I am not ready to accept that three weeks in Australia and one unlucky decision will cost me a good amount of my savings for this journey.

So now here we are, camped out in front of the Manbulloo shed, our home and workplace for the next 6-8 weeks, waiting for the mangoes to ripen. Luckily, we got here early and set up under a beautiful tree that gives us the much-needed shade for most of the day. Surrounded by very relaxed neighbors we have enjoyed many fun conversations with. Starting a well-paid job in the next days. Watching kangaroos dart in and out of the many rows of mango trees at sunset. And having witnessed a full moon lunar eclipse last night that took my breath away. Life could be worse.

There is no kitchen here and the bathrooms are stalls of corrugated steel, that we share with cane toads, tree frogs and snakes. The toads clumsily jump into the walls and make banging noises that can make you jump yourselves. The tree frogs serenade you from within the toilet bowls, in which they are sitting 5 or 6 at a time, enjoying the cool moist atmosphere. I felt really bad, literally having to pee on them one morning. And then flushing it down with 4 more little green buggers. But if I were a frog, that’s where I’d be spending my time as well. It is getting hotter by the day. 43degrees today. And dry as a bone. My skin drinks oil like a sailor his rum and no matter how much water you drink, that parched feeling in the back of my throat just doesn’t go away. Everything is covered in a fine layer of red dust and the strong gusts of wind blows leaves and branches into our camp all day and night. (Which the little OCD in me sweeps away every morning and afternoon.) It is so hot and dry, your towel becomes superfluous and you can only tell that you are sweating by the strong salty taste left in your mouth after licking your cracking lips.

We are looking forward to working. To being productive. And earning some of the money that will take us one step closer to our trip through Asia.

Training starts Saturday and once the season really gets going, we will be going at it for 10-12h a day. We are excited about the prospects of “real” jobs after this little sentimental and need-for-cash-driven stint…

And with that, I finish this first and next attempt at writing with the words of a song that has been keeping us going… Cause every little thing, is gonna be alright!

melting - an ode to heat and boredom

how fast a solid thought can melt
in the morning blaze of summer sunlight.
the core liquefies, you forget the importance,
the tightly woven net of rational tangles
and the floodgates of fantasy are opened.
sense is overpowered and reality no longer is.

your eyes fixed on the azure above,
your once one and only truth twists into a dream.
so sweet, so honeysuckle sweet, it evokes a smile -
a permanent tattoo of bliss on your face.
as you succumb to the entrancing flow
of your greatest wants and darkest secrets.

in the heat of the afternoon, the heavy air;
no breeze to cool the beads of sweat that drip down your neck.
the dream melts into a velvety smooth pool of subconciousness.
you take a dip. and slowly feels the numbness -
a thousand tiny needle-pricks - spread across your burning skin.
instant relief, instant release.

you are nothing, you are nobody for just a moment,
before your pool overflows and your melted dream
seeps over the edges and through the cracks
of the peach colored clouds.
and you watch, as your morphed reality
rains down on unsuspecting passers-by.

...who, for just a moment, saw a strangers thought
as clear as crystal.