Oranges make me want to kill myself

Have you ever looked at an orange and wanted to kill yourself? I do… Every damn day. 

  
This is my life now. Living in Mildura VIctoria trying to complete my farming to get my second year visa. Im currently packing oranges… For the devil reincarnated. I’ve never met a more hellish woman. A tiny Italian lady who scrutinises every aspect of your working day wasn’t what I envisaged when I arrived here. 

  
Yes! The work is horrendous. It’s tedious, monotonous and mentally challenging. Who would have thought packing boxes would be so bloody hard. But when your standing with an orange in your left hand and an orange in your right hand and you can’t work out if they are really oranges anymore, you know your in trouble! 

But I always knew this would be hard graft, and it is ridiculously hard graft. What I wasn’t prepared for was the psychopath woman saying, ‘pack faster, pack faster.’ I also didn’t know how bad an orange could be but apparently you need to be some sort of orange guru to get it right. 

  
You must also be prepared for her to pick up the oranges you’re throwing out in order to make sure that they should be thrown out. ‘Don’t pack that it has marks on it’, ‘why didn’t you pack this? It’s only got some marks on it’, ‘why did you pack that orange, it’s ugly.’

Your ugly you crazy Bitch!! 

The straw that broke the camels back was when she took an orange out of a box and replaced it with one that was ten times worse. Then came back a minute later and asked me why the hell I had packed that. I didn’t pack that! You f&@king packed that!! You nutcase! 

It is laughable really, in a I could laugh so much I could cry kinda way. 

I’ve been dreaming about bloody oranges! I smell of oranges! I will never eat an orange ever again!! 

The resemblance to prison here is remarkable. We live in our tiny cell room where people have written on the walls. We wear our prison uniform/ Hi Vis t shirts and pile into the prison van to go to work under the nose of the warden. We then get back in our van and go back to our cell. Lights out at ten o’clock! 

  
Wait… 

Prisons better. You can stay there for free! 

  
So if everyone could say a small prayer for the Mildura Three it would be greatly appreciated. 

Did I mention it’s only been a week? 

P.S. The girl next doors been in psych ward for the last five days… What the hell am I doing here? 

Saying goodbye to Sydney

  So this is my first post in a long time. Originally that was due to lacking inspiration. What a lot of people don’t tell you about travelling are the down days. Days when you wondering what the hell you are doing on the other side of the world. Days where you have no money and you are constantly worrying about how you will pay your rent or where your next meal was coming from. It was those times where my family always pulled me through and kept me moving. The most important thing I learnt during those dark times while I was in Queensland with very little work was that this experience is all about the people you choose to surround yourself with. 

For the past two months I have been living and working in Syndey after I flew back down in the hopes of getting a job. Within that time not only did I get some work in a call centre where I met some awesome people but I’ve been staying in a home away from home and it has been my greatest two months in Australia by far. 

  
When I flew from Brisbane to Sydney on 23rd June, my main emotion was determination. I was determined to make the most of this experience. I was determined to enjoy my trip again. I arrived at the Blue Parrot hostel that evening and noticed a remarkable difference in comparison to other places I had previously stayed. Mostly it was the lovely homely feel of the place. For such a small hostel there were people everywhere. After a few days of becoming accustomed to life in Sydney I had a new job and some amazing new friends. 

The biggest difference was that most people in the hostel were positive happy go lucky individuals. Most of whom were also working in the city and enjoying the vibrant night life in King Cross where the hostel was located. A group of people after my own heart, nights consisted of drinking cheap goon, singing at the top of our voices and partying hard. 

  
When I was in Queensland I had no inspiration to write this blog. Since I’ve been in Sydney I haven’t been writing because I’ve been having too much fun. 

I had soon become a long term resident of the Blue Parrot. No longer needing to spell or explain my ridiculous name to people. Along with the other ‘long termers’ we made the hostel our home. While some other great characters brightened the place up as they passed through. The rooms and halls were constantly filled with laughter. 

  
I’m taking so much away from the past two months, the most important lesson is that you need to surround yourself with positive people. People who can lift you up when you’ve had a rubbish day at work and remind you that you are here to have fun. 

Unfortunately my life at the Blue Parrot is coming to an end and the next step of the adventure is farming in Mildura. I am delighted to say I’m leaving knowing I’ve made some of the greatest friends I’ve ever had.