If this story didn't exist I couldn't have made it up. I'm going to tell you about my start at the farm; it begins in late May 2017.

Hey there,

It was time to find somewhere to do my farm work so I could get a second year in Australia. I was in touch with two former Sydney flatmates; they'd found a place where there was some going. After a stop in Byron Bay, I head over.

Wednesday 24 May

Here I am, arrived in Gatton (Queensland) to do my farm work. I settle into the Caravan Park, a campground of caravans and mobile homes worn down to the bone. As luck would have it I get the height of luxury, a 3-person mobile home, but it isn't quite level, there are bits missing from the floor and the beds aren't very comfy (I have to put my cooler under my bed to get a roughly flat base, but it could be worse)… Anyway, a bit of a shock arriving in this dump. But hey, there's work and the people are cool, so let's give the adventure a shot.

Thursday 25 May

The campground managers hand out a list of contractors to call to find work; I give it a go in my finest English but no answer. I chat with the people around me to get a sense of how farm work goes. Basically: very hard work and not far off being treated like a slave (the farmers hold the power, because if you want to extend the visa by a year you absolutely have to do 88 days of farm work). I wasn't motivated to begin with, so that doesn't help, but oh well, it'll be one more experience.

Friday 26 May

I try again with loads of texts but still no answer. Since there isn't much to do in town, time passes pretty slowly. With the weekend coming up, little chance of getting work on Saturday; that's when I start editing my great Byron Bay video that you've already seen.

The weekend passes and on Sunday I get a message from one of the contractors to work the next day, woohoo! Leaving at 5:15am to go cut celery and cauliflower!

Monday 29 May

In the morning, way too early, the contractor shows up in his 4x4. First contact with this guy: exactly the big cliché of the racist, sexist farmer, always with his cigarette (everything I love)… Anyway, 6 people from the camp climb in, the back seats running parallel to the road, army style! He swings by to pick up more people along the way and we end up about 15 in a car that must be designed for half that. After a little over an hour (and frozen stiff (it's nearly winter), the contractor left his window open the whole way) we get to the farm. We get the lay of the land, and off we go to cut celery! After a quick lesson, the contractor already starts ramping up the pace and yelling at us (it's paid by the task and not by the hour, so the faster we are the more money he makes). The afternoon is more chill for me, I handle boxing up the cauliflower on the tractor. I'd been warned that celery can burn you when you cut it (some diseased parts); a bit of skin on my little finger is already gone, I'll have to be careful. So, a mixed first day; to be continued.

Tuesday 30 May

In the morning at the same time, here we go again in the 4x4 with, on top of the cigarette smell, the smell of exhaust fumes inside the car, for 1 hour (but with fewer people)… Once at the farm, it'll be cauliflower to cut today. It's a bit trickier to cut because you have to pick the good ones, but there's no one behind you yelling, so I prefer it. 1pm, end of the day, cool!

Wednesday 31 May - 5:15am

It's the return of the celery-cutting and still with the same lovely morning routine, fuck! To avoid burning my hand again I bought gloves. After going round the shops I knew, I only found gardening ones, so a bit too bulky to be precise. The contractor sees my gloves and tells me to take them off because I won't be fast enough with them. I reply that it's too cold, that I don't fancy getting burned just yet and that we'll see whether I'm fast or not. At the same time I ask if he knows where I can buy better ones. He has no idea (couldn't care less) and lets others answer. We start cutting and indeed my gloves aren't very handy. I'm lagging behind the others, the way I cut is never right, basically 90% of the time the contractor is yelling at me. Morning break, a bit of respite and energy to gather. Someone passes me plastic gloves for the rest, and yeah, that's better. I get into a good rhythm and I'm among the front-runners; the contractor is still yelling, but a bit less at me. By lunchtime, the whole team (except me) had decided to skip it (30 minutes…) to get back to the slammer earlier. Naturally, with my old age and cardboard body I start to tire and end up among the last. My friend the contractor starts yelling at me again. I tell him I'm tired and that a break would be cool, but he couldn't care less (plenty of others were starting to tire too but kept their mouths shut).

Wednesday 31 May - 3:00pm

Done cutting and end of the day? No, the farm does its presentation with various slides. Actual end of the day, and despite my gloves (with a vented side) I have many, many burns on my hands. Tough day; I chat with my colleagues and tell them I'll finish the week and try to find another contractor with something other than celery to cut. Later I get the message of deliverance (every evening the contractor sends a message saying what time it'll be the next day (because it's not always the same farm)): "no work tomorrow" (I don't like you either). I reply "okay", really not wanting to push it and far too happy not to start the same thing all over again the next day.

Thursday 1 June - 8:00am

A day of comfort? I had until Saturday to go collect my automatic toll-payment tag from the post office on the Sunshine Coast (2.5 hours' drive). Why so far? Because this tag takes ages to arrive and I'd put down an address roughly near where I thought I'd be. And it's the beach and surf, so it'll make for a good day. I leave early in the morning and the car radio stops working, ugh, nothing left but to sing in my head. Once there I pick up my parcel and look for a cool beach. 1st, 2nd, meh. The weather's nice but there's a lot of wind so it's a bit chilly. Nobody on the beach and even fewer surfing. 3rd beach, I throw myself in. Since there's no one on the beach I'd rather not leave my bag and keep my car key on me. Since it's all plastic and there's no electronics it'll be fine. A pretty rubbish surf session but being in the water always does me good, so I'm happy anyway. I get changed, rinse my wetsuit and go squat a free public wifi 50m away to save data (no wifi at my camp). After a little over an hour catching up on everything I'd missed, I decide to head home.

Thursday 1 June - 4:30pm

I get in my car and start it up… or not. Noooooo, one of my biggest fears comes true and the world has collapsed. That's it, I've been ripped off, I bought a junk car, $150 in my account, this is going to be ruin upon ruin, I'm 200km from my camp, it'll be dark soon, panic stations. I call my insurer but they can't do anything for me. I search online (thanks Google) for various mechanics but you have to bring the car in for them to look at it. I try several mobile mechanics but none are available. After begging, one finally agrees. Half an hour later there he is; he tests the fuel supply, various things, everything works fine. He sits in the driver's seat, shows me a red dot and tells me that if it doesn't go out, the immobilizer safety isn't deactivated. He calls a mate to consult and tells me it might be coming from the key. What? In this bit of plastic (and a 1999 car) there's electronics? He says it's worth trying the second key and that otherwise we'll have to put the car on a flatbed to take it to his garage and probably dismantle the electronics, onboard computer, etc. The dollars tick by far too fast for my heart. I tell him I'll try the second key before doing anything else, but of course, the key is back at camp. The mechanic offers to drop me at a train station, cool, that's already something. $100 later, here I am at the station.

(In the meantime I was in a panic conversation with the Hamelins on WhatsApp; an emergency transfer was made by my parents, thanks ❤️)

Thursday 1 June - 5:30pm

The train to Brisbane is delayed and I don't know when it'll arrive. I've only got 20% battery left and I don't know how I can get home or where I'll sleep. 45 minutes later (well done French railways… oh wait, no) I get on and ask the conductor for info on getting back to my backwater. He tells me I can go as far as Ipswich on the same train (1 hour after Brisbane) but that the 85-minute drive after that will only be doable the next day. Might as well sleep in Brisbane and head back the next day, since there isn't much in Ipswich, he tells me. I try to see if some people from my camp can come get me (it'll be cheaper than a hostel) but the train isn't very fast and I'd only arrive at 10pm. Since everyone gets up around 4-5am that's a bit late. At the same time I'm chatting with mates and they tell me the mechanic's a clown, that there's never any electronics in those keys (dollaaaaars). I try the number of an Uber someone gave me, hoping he can come get me at Ipswich, but no answer.

Thursday 1 June - 6:30pm

Energy is a rare commodity, so I set off in search of an iPhone cable on the train (I had a power bank in my bag but the cable had stayed in the car on the cigarette lighter). After several requests someone lends me their cable; they're pretty well-lubricated folks yelling loudly, but hey, no choice. I plug in my phone, which was at 13%. I do some research on hostels in Brisbane, which station to get off at, etc. The drunk crowd starts making a lot of noise, and all of a sudden 2 women stand up and one lands a massive punch in the other's face, her mouth bleeding. The one who'd lent me her cable is a friend of the attacker. Naturally they clear off and she takes her cable back, 20%, that's already something. We were stopped at a station and someone presses the emergency button to report the assault. The police arrive, then the ambulance. The officers question me on what I saw, statement, all that, and the train still isn't moving. An hour later the train sets off again. Once in Brisbane I decide to grab a hostel right next to the station. There are spots left and it's not too bad. I get to the room, settle in and find a charger, yeah! I'm pretty exhausted, I start to sleep.

Thursday 1 June - 10:00pm

Some roommates come into the room and, seeing that 2 people were already asleep, they start playing guitar and talking loudly. They head out partying long minutes later, finally some peace! Unfortunately my roommate in the bunk below brought back his conquest of the evening and decides to have sex like there's nobody around (an 8-bed room). So I get woken up by moaning and earthquakes coming from my bed. A few minutes later I can finish my night.

Friday 2 June - 7:00am

I wake up. I'd planned to take the 10:30am train but since I'm up I might as well take the 7:30 one. I get dressed, check out of the hostel and head to the station. Now I need to buy a ticket. I go to a machine for a single ticket but it's a bit pricey. With the Brisbane transport card it'll be cheaper, so I buy one. Time ticks on and I'm not too sure where to go to catch my train. I finally find the platform, I get there and just watch the doors close… fuck! 10 seconds too late. 3 hours to kill, a little walk around Brisbane is in order. I had my camera but wasn't really in the mood. I head back to the station to finally catch my train and after long hours and 2 changes + a bus, I get to Gatton.

Friday 2 June - 1:00pm

If I want to be back on the Sunshine Coast tonight I need to hurry up and eat (I'd only eaten 2 cereal bars since the previous morning) and grab a few things, but first, the second key! I retrieve it and see there's a piece of plastic missing; could this be that famous electronic part? At the same time I'm chatting with my roommate and he tells me he had the same problem in New Zealand. Dead electronics and impossible to start. The car problem could be simpler than it looks; I'm a bit relieved, but it'll be pointless going back to the Sunshine Coast because I won't be able to start the car, no more electronics in either key. The mechanic had told me a locksmith could make me new keys if needed. I set off in search of this locksmith in Gatton to get more info, but I only find ordinary lock-cutters who can't do much for me. I try calling the Subaru dealership near me but they don't know whether they can fix my key or not. I try another Subaru dealership on the Sunshine Coast and they tell me they can't do anything and that I need to see a locksmith; they give me a number and tell me he's cool. So I call him and he confirms he can indeed help me. First I need to bring them the key, they'll see if they can fix it and if not, off to the car to reprogram the key's electronics (the car is mandatory). Cool! And are you open at the weekend, Mr Locksmith? Nope. Well then, nothing to do but wait until Monday, with high hopes that the problem really is the key and that nobody stole anything from the car… like a drone. My car is in the beach car park with hardly anyone around.

The weekend goes by, always with a nagging thought for my lovely car. There was the party but I wasn't really in the mood.

Monday 5 June - 7:30am

I booked a bus to go from Gatton to Brisbane and from Brisbane to the Sunshine Coast. It's pricier but faster than public transport and I don't have 5 changes to make. It'd be silly to get to the Sunshine Coast and find the locksmith closed. Arriving at 12:20pm and even though I'm passing right by the locksmith, I want to see if the car is OK. I take the bus, get off at the stop closest to the beach, just 1km left on foot, the pressure rises. Near the end I'm running, I was so eager to know. I look at the car park entrance and don't see a car… I walk on and on and it turns out a big tree was completely hiding my car, phew, all good! I test whether the key would work by some miracle (I'd put it in a bag of rice to dry it out), but no. Off to the locksmith for real this time. He looks at my key and opens the electronic part; it was a warzone. Everything was wrecked. A glass part is supposed to protect it all but it was well and truly broken. He tells me that to replace the key it'll be $300. He sees my face and says, ok fine, $200. I say OK, and with the 2nd key? $250. Ok, deal! One of the employees had just finished his lunch break, I get into his car and we drive to mine. He plugs a mini computer into my car and reprograms the 2 new keys in 2 minutes. The red light goes out nicely, a good sign. He tries to start it but it doesn't work, the battery was dead from all the attempts the other day. He hooks up a jump-start battery and there it staaaaarrrts. I was so happy and relieved, I nearly gave the guy a hug 😀

Monday 5 June - 3:00pm

I get a message from another contractor telling me he has work for the next day, "shed work", cool, I've no idea what that is but I accept! Time to hit the road and 15 minutes later my car radio works again, what the fuck? But cool! Back in Gatton I ask my roommate what "shed work" is and he tells me it's probably packing boxes in a building, cool.

Tuesday 6 June

The contractor picks me up at my camp at 6:00am and takes us to the farm. It turns out what we have to do is help build a greenhouse, even better! After a day, the people are cool, the work is interesting and not too hard, cool!

Wednesday 7 June

Same again! The prospect of work for 3-4 weeks, so cool! I so much prefer doing this to cutting vegetables (and it counts towards my 88 days), lots of work (40-50h a week) but it's not too badly paid. If I do a month I should clear a profit of $2,000, so cool!

Final words

There you go, to sum up. A big old stress fest. A $500 mistake with $150 in the account. Long live the internet; it was a real struggle handling everything on my own and thank goodness I could chat with the Hamelins and find specialists to call. My English is starting to hold up. Not dead yet.

Was it better afterwards? Not really… but maybe I'll talk about that soon!

Hugs