June 2:
Kangaroos hopping around aimlessly. Trees heavy with oranges. The grape vines are starting to bud and shoot. The skies are polluted with black faced and wide billed storks. The trees are filled with cockitels of every colour you could imagine. Every corner carries a new surprise. I have even begun to apply the Australian nonchalance towards the myriad of spiders that infest every non-spider filled crevice. Seriously, nothing is sacred to those eight legged death monsters.
This adventure has taken a turn towards the surreal. I am earning an international relations degree simply by breathing. As I have mentioned before, this country is rife with international backpackers. Last night the Frenchmen who are staying here taught us all how to make crepes. The instructions came with the expected level of French flamboyance and shouting. The Frenchmen are soon bound for home but they said that they never missed it because throughout their journeys they could always prepare a dish from their mothers cookbook and suddenly they would be home. The Italians hummed and hawed but ultimately agreed. The Italians also inform me that lentil soup is a lucky soup and if you eat it you will have good luck. Food and laughter need no translation.
June 3/4:
The moisture is finally retreating which is a welcome relief for the backpackers. In the past two days their ranks have swelled with the addition of two Germans. I feel a little guilty because I'm am currently stabled with them but I am not employed in the same capacity as them. All my years fighting with and cursing that little Nissan are finally paying dividends. The majority of the vehicles down here are Nissans and Toyotas in the 1/4 ton body size. The only real difference is that they almost exclusivly run small four cylinder diesel engines. It feels really good to be doing something I know and helping in a field I can thrive in.
It also helps that this international melting pot is full of characters. Quinton, from France, has more energy than a puppy and about the same attention span. He waves his arms like a helicopter whenever he tells a story. Remy is another Frenchman but he is quiet and reserved. He usually keeps his hands occupied by rolling cigarettes. He says that his English is no good but he has delivered some of the funniest and wittiest one liners I have ever heard. Mabel is Michàels young wife. They are both from Italy and I like them the best. Mabel is your prototypical doting Italian wife, always offering you food or drink and always caring or cleaning. Michàel is a butcher and a carpenter. The first is his trade the second a hobby. His talents and hard working attitude are humbling because of the stories he tells about his home.
For example, the norm in Italy is to work for one month then spend the second month petitioning your employer for your due wages. The number one thing I have picked up from these Europeans is that much of destination Europe, is broken. These young men and women I am living with all agree. Europe needs drastic changes if she is going to survive. They look towards North America as a beacon of hope and prosperity. All of them speak English to a degree and I am throughly embarrassed because I have failed to learn another language. But dear friends, it is late and the dawn comes early. Until I see you again,
Take it easy.
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