Rockhampton.
I was tired, after 500km northwards there was a
decision to be made. Finding a place to stay in the next city or purchasing a
coffee or five and keep driving all the way to Arlie. Or Mackay at least. Rockhampton
sounded nice, and I was deeply exhausted so I did what responsible people do;)
There is not much to say about Rocky. Or the Hamptons:) It was Sunday, all shops were closed, not many people on
the streets and I didn’t found anything really exiting down there. I was a bit
pissed that I lost my lonely planet to get some more information about this
city.
I found a hostel close to the centre, parked the van and tried to relax a bit.
There was no one around and I was wondering if I was the only one there this
night. I wasn’t. This location felt I bit like a ghost town within a ghost city and the weather fit in
perfectly this scenery. After a short walk through in city and an even shorter
run along the river (forgot the name again) I met some backpackers in the
kitchen and arranged a gathering for
some beers after diner. And astonishingly it became a remarkable night. They came from England, Czech
Republic and Germany and they were working the
local meat factory and I was so glad to hear all those nice ‘n’ eerie stories about working in
a slaughter house.
When these guys get bored they start throwing cattle eyes at each other. After
theirs shifts of 8 hours some of them are soaking wet with blood all over their
bodies and even their undies are blood-red and so on. It’s just crazy when you
hear that they are not allowed to
talk or to listen to their MP3 player and that they only get 17,10 per hour for
this kind of work. Before tax of course. But it’s as always: You get used to almost
everything. And that’s what they told me too. They got used that smell and the
blood and at the end of the day it’s a job that needs to get done. Damn right.
By the way…I LOVE MY JOB!!!!:)
Next stop: Arlie Beach.
