Perth: 4pm on Tuesday.
Total funds: about $500.
Might keep me going for
a week, if I'm lucky.
The government think I
came here with $5000 and enough for a return flight. No chance.
And you know what?
Anxiety hit.
Travelling's not all fun and games, especially when the money runs out.
At least the sun was
out. And as the city bus (I'm still a backpacker, no taxis for me)
rolled through streets that seemed far too American for my liking
(the road signs that is – they have roundabouts here), I wondered
what on earth I was letting myself in for.
3 nights booked into a
backpackers, and of course the wifi barely worked.
So I applied for a TFN
and went for a $5 Domino's with Nolan, a French guy I met on the
bus. First meal: pizza of champions.
I would describe the
various menial tasks I did the next day, and really excite the three
people who read my blog on a regular basis, but quite frankly, I'd
rather trim my toenails. I was a bit stressed about jobs, and spent
far too long on Gumtree. And got abused by the English manager about
my apparent antics involving sheep.
Of course.
It paid off though: I
was awoken the next day to a phonecall (on my new Aussie number, of
course) being offered an interview for a milkman job.
Sounds good.
And for some reason, I
liked the feel of Australia already. I don't know what it was, but
there was something that, through the anxiety, I liked.
I was actually going to
head out to see the kangaroos on the island around the corner, but
then someone reminded me that they don't come out at midday and that
I should probably wait for the evening.
So I headed for a job
agency instead: the Job Shop in Northbridge.
I'd applied for a few
roadhouse jobs with them, so I thought I'd show my face.
The receptionist stood
up, checked my height, thought I was smaller than I actually was (no,
I'm definitely not 5'7-5'8 thank you very much), fairly fit (thanks
mate), and asked if I wanted some regional work 150km south of Perth.
That started tomorrow.
Yes.
Money and my second
year visa: sorted.
Picking melons. Which I
didn't realise grew on the ground until someone at the hostel told me
to enjoy my future back problems.
I'd have to get the
train the next morning, and had a fairly long list of things I needed
to grab.
The army surplus store
never did so well off me.
By evening I was
knackered, but thought I should probably see something of Perth that
wasn't the CBD.
So I went down to the
Swan River, and took photos of the CBD from the outside instead.
The CBD: yeah, that's it |
The real reason was to
go and see the sunset, which I hadn't done in far too long. I have
far too many photographer genes in me: not so sure about them.
I had a good wander
back after the free city bus that I thought would take me to the
centre actually deposited me further out of town than I'd been when I
started – but there we go, serves me right for not reading the
display on the front.
Happens to the best of
us.
Colonial architecture:
check.
Lit up CBD: check.
It was all so good that
I had to be interrupted by the French guys from the hostel who were
coming the other way. They were heading for an Indian buffet where
you could pay as much as you like.
An..... Indian
buffet....... where you can pay...... as much as you like.
You can guess where I
went.
And I pretended to
speak French, as only I do. It was good fun.
Oh, and the food was good. I even tried to pay in rupees, which confused yet amused the poor staff, who had quite clearly not seen Indian currency in far too long.
I'm not sure what it is
about the last few cities I'd been to, but maybe I'm mellowing. I
liked Perth too. People who've stayed there a while have mixed
opinions, but there's a fairly compact CBD, then it's got a
provincial town feel, then you hit the suburbs. All sounds good by
me.
That said, I never
really saw anything of Perth. I was looking for jobs. I'm boring like
that.
Train to Waroona: let's
do this job thing.
There's going to be more posts, even when I'm sat around working. I have to mindvomit sometimes. Oh, and I'm still travelling. Travelling never stops. There's always a next trip - or in my case, another destination on my escape from home for as long as is possible.