Time off! Who would have thought it was just for the deserving? After staring down the barrel of work, which by definition is so back breaking that I sweat and cramp up at the thought of it, Adam, I, and 90% of the Oasis Farms workforce is being spared from such hardship. Only my wallet has grounds for complaint at a one day on – two days off schedule. A schedule that will give way to12-14 hour days, 7 days a week, once the season starts in earnest. A cold streak, unseasonal for Brisbane in winter time, is stopping the strawberry's from reaching their full potential. With the amount of natural and chemical encouragement they get, it is surprising the fruit even notices what temperature it is.
After bolting from Mr Personality's demented idea of hospitality, we arrived at the Oasis village expecting a quagmire to pitch our tent in until the cabins were ready. Fate must have a crush on us though, as the 10 days of work needed to finish the cabins, somehow got completed in 2. Away went the tiny canvas tent and into a slightly larger plywood cabin we moved. Well appointed with mini fridge, desk, cupboard, my bed and Adams bunk above, and enough space if you are prepared to Waltz passed each other. “A hamster with the key to his own cage”, Adam opines. A huge kitchen sits in the centre of the 40 odd cabin complex, which the largely Korean population seem unsure how to use properly, and totally miffed about how to clean. Bottled water is the go too, as even after filtering, it still feels like drinking a H2O smoothie. The less said about the toilets the better, and the shower block is at the other end of the farm until the amenities block is finished in the village. It is still a steal at $70 a week each but!
And how did the first day in the fields go for both Adam and Harry? Unfortunately we were separated, tearfully, as one had to work the other paddocks a few kms down the road. Adam got nominated for this, and spent the entire day grabbing the strawberry's the pickers missed. Adam's role was reduced when he confessed to having no forklift experience, the same problem of my own that I was told not to be a sissy about and just drive the bloody thing. So I did a lot of what Adam did, but also got to drive the trucks around, weigh the fruits of the pickers labour, and enforce a degree of quality control whose acceptable limits I had no idea of myself. Lunch breaks are for wimps it seems, and the cloudless sky added sunburn to the muscle soreness I am currently savouring. Two of my toes have doubled in size with mutant blisters, possibly storing water there like a camel (No camel toe jokes please!), and gone forever are my dreams of being a hand model.
Even still, I cannot say strongly enough just how much potential there is here for an amazing experience. The work seems hard, a concept I never baulked at in my younger years, and having to eat cereal out of disposable bowls with a fork or wooden spoon will only last until the first pay packet arrives. In the absence of light pollution, the celestial extravaganza is an absolute feast for the eyes every night. All reports indicate that the boss takes good care of his hard workers, and compensates them well for a full season of hard yakka. I love being out amongst it, living like a back packer but being paid like royalty. Washing our clothes in the sink, enjoying a tinny of XXXX beer around a campfire, and having the need to regularly use most of the features on my Swiss army knife, (even the fish scaler might get christened if someone catches something in the nearby lake that the Koreans fear is inhabited by crocodiles!).
The bane and the benediction of most workplaces is your fellow employees, and Oasis is no exception. Three distinct categories have made themselves abundantly clear already. About 5 Australians and 2 British backpackers have shown themselves to be the nicest people you would want to be in this situation with. Always ready to make life easy for you, and here to have a good time as well as making money. Then there is the Korean 'picking and packing' contingent that keeps largely to itself, but are approachable enough to have their often crazy cooking ideas explained or translation issues sorted out. Then there is the reason why Fate may have a crush on us, but is yet unwilling to demonstrate that love by providing a work place free from dickheads that would sooner shank you with a boning knife, than help you lift an empty pellet onto a truck. 3 local guys that economically combine the redneck, racist, drug fucked, and totally unstable characteristics they epitomize. They alone are the reason for the tough anti-drug stance, a stance that is routinely ignored by everyone here, much to Adams financial advantage.
Adam was stuck with 2 of them at the other farm, but was spared from dealing with them for most of the day. The nutbox loose on the farm I was working, considered himself important enough to wander around doing bugger all except to berate people who weren't prepared to do the work he should have been doing. Moves are afoot to get the unstable working together on one farm, and have the cool crew throwing down some funky karma on the other. If that eventually comes to pass, the next four months will be a time to remember indeed.
