Greetings from Cairns. It is flat and green here. And hot. Oh so very hot. First off, apologies for the lack of updates. This is mainly because I no longer have easy access to free internet and lack the necessary funds to use an internet cafe. In fact there's a lot of things I lack the funds for at the minute, having reached a truly epic level of skintness.
This is down to an inability to find paying work. Me and my companions have had the bad fortune to land in the area at a time when the new fruit picking season has been delayed due to environmental factors. To be fair to ourselves I did ring the Harvest information hotline - a government service designed to help people find agricultural work - at least half a dozen times to research conditions in the area and elsewhere, but they must be some of the most obtuse people I've ever spoken with, giving such great gems of non advice as "Yes, fruit is grown in this area" and "you could try looking for work here, but bear in mind other people will also be looking at the same time". Ultimately staying in Sydney simply wasn't an option so we had to make a move regardless and hope that fortune favoured us upon our arrival. Unfortunately I had forgotten that me and fortune are not on speaking terms at the minute.
I should take this opportunity to say that I like Cairns. I really do. Architecturally there's not much to write about, consisting predominately of boxy, prefabricated structures that have an oddly ephemeral feel about them. But the surrounding environment is gorgeous. The city is surrounded on three sides by rain forested hills and mountains, clouds roll lazily over their peaks. On the fourth side is a very blue sea - though, contrary to what you might expect, no beach. Green is everywhere and the sun is so bright it hurts to go out without covered eyes. The city itself is unashamedly a tourist town. There's any number of opportunities for a young, dumb and full of cum backpacker to enjoy him or herself. That is, there is if you're not flat on your arse broke.
After an initial stay at a place called Gilligans (which Bob keeps referring to as "Gillians", which annoys me far more than it really should), which was basically some sort of backpacker super resort, we found work at a hostel on the edge of the city in exchange for free accommodation and an evening meal. Bob now hands out flyers - though he did do some IT work instead yesterday, Korbi works behind the bar at the hostel, which has about three patrons, while I'm doing general grunt work - painting, weeding, lugging rubbish around, gardening etc. It means there's no immediate prospect of us being made homeless or starving to death and it does seem that it's the best we're going to get until the season changes and we can start making money again.
That said, the travel agent Bob hands out flyers in front of asked me to draw up two chalk signs for them. They seemed pleased with the results and paid me fifty bucks for about seven hours work. Although I've had work puplished etc. before, this is, as far as I can recall, the first time in my life that I have been paid for my work as an artist. So, cool beans there then.
Hopefully when I next write, the situation will have changed and I will have left, or be on my way to leaving, the bread and water diet behind me. And if not - hey! - at least I'll be skinny.
Love and Fishes.
Dave Denton
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