In the summer of '92, myself and 2 friends, Jay and Mark, from Santa Barbara California, were planning a year long trip to the land DownUnder. I met an Australian downtown in Santa Barbara and asked him what Aussies dislike. After a moments thought he said, "Whinging Poms and loudmouth bloody Yanks". Now being one of Her Majesty's expatriates, I could see how an unsuspecting 'Aussie mate' might mistake our party for the above description. If only I knew what a prophetic piece of advice that was.
Being adventurous fellows, we decided to make it a priority to get to know the locals first hand. After spending a few days in Sydney, we decided to hitchhike north to Brisbane. Three guys hitching is definitely a no-no, so after drawing straws, myself and Mark were to travel together and meet up with Jay in Brisbane.
After getting a ride up the coast to Newcastle, we ended up at a freezing truck stop at midnight. Seriously, I had 2 t-shirts, a sweater and a jacket on and I was still shivering. Don't think Australia is always hot and sunny, 'cos it ain't. Pretty soon however, this guy with a cowboy hat pulls over and offers us a ride. He said his name was Fred and was about 35. Fred lived in Toowoomba, to the south west of Brisbane, so we took off up the New England highway in the middle of the night headed for this place with a strange name.
The vehicle we were travelling in was a new-ish 4-wheel drive, that Fred said he had just purchased in Sydney. We spent the passing hours talking about where we were from and the kind of stuff we liked to do. Fred told us his dad owned a ranch so big they used helicopters for rounding up the livestock. After a long night and much chit-chat we pulled into the local truck stop in Toowoomba. Fred had promised us "one of mum's fry-ups" and was about to pick up some supplies. As we pulled into the truck stop an elderly lady had to brake as Fred swerved around her.
"If she gives me any problems, I'll kick her cunt up around her fucking ears.", said Fred. Was this a sign of things to come?
Arriving at the homestead on the edge of Toowoomba, an early morning freshness still hung in the air, this was a natural setting to be sure. Fred introduced us to his mum, Margaret, and all the other assembled relatives who now lived there.
"Hello boys", said Margaret.
"Hello Maam, nice to meet you", was our reply.
"Fuck off, ya little cunts" said Margaret, swatting her grandkids in the head as they mischievously played around us.
A different environment from that which we were used to for sure. Margaret and one of Fred's sisters got into a playful tug of war over who should make the second round of breakfast.
"Oi bitch, how about another bacon sandwich?"
"Get it yourself, cunt." Was the reply.
Mark and I watched in awe as the insults flew effortlessly across the kitchen.
"Get me a fucking cup of tea, bitch," said mum excitedly, "or I'll hit you with this," she said holding up her hair brush.
"What's that, your pussy scratcher?" said Fred's sister without flinching.
In an effort to start a dialogue with the home team, Mark and I told the story of how Fred had picked us up in his new 4-wheel drive. The laughter that followed seemed to define our situation. It turned out that Fred had stolen the 4-wheel drive and in fact had no wealthy father. He was a bullshit artist as good as any we'd met in back in Santa Barbara. His relatives told us that he was a "piss head" (Piss Head Fred) and had even gone so far as falling asleep with a woman on his living room floor at night, only to be found by his wife the next morning.
Wishing to settle into a local's rhythm, we made an effort to adjust our daily rituals to their timetable. So it was, and our days passed something like this:
8.00am - awaken and admire the morning mist.
8.45am - drive to the liquor barn and pick up a "slab of piss" (case of beer).
9.00-9.45am - everybody drinks 3 beers each.
9.45-10.30 - Mum gets the breaky going (greasier the better!)
10.30-12.00 - Go for a drive in the 4-wheeel drives and do our best to kill ourselves.
In outback Australia, there are only single lane roads and the protocol is to put your wheels in the dirt when passing another car. Think a tanked up Aussie is going to move over? No bloody way! Fred and his family drove like Mel Gibson in Mad Max and literally dared anyone to get in their way, climbing hills with the attitude, "there's no cunt around for miles".
1200-2.00 - schlaffen (sleep, 40 winks)
2.00-5.00 - everybody, numbering at least a dozen, kids'n'all, pile into 3 4-wheel drives and off to the local pub. Upon arrival, the bartender gives us a look like, "oh no, not those people again".
While the kids are wreaking havoc on the slot machines, Fred, Mum and everyone else were doing their best to get pissed in a manner which seemed well rehearsed. There were usually only 2 other patrons at the bar, who wisely, at the advice of the bartender, chose to stay well out of the way.
5.30-6.30 - dinner time. Throw 3 jumbo sized meat pies in the oven and wait for their arrival. When they are done, everybody dives into these piping hot pies with bare hands and no plates, as cannibals must have done a few millennia ago, with no other thought than to feed a hungry belly.
8.00-onwards - something of a vague memory. Various people staggering through asking if the dunny (toilet) was being used.
8.00am, a brand new day.
So this was the comfortable rhythm that Mark and I had found ourselves growing accustomed to. We had decided to make a move and connect with our friend Jay, when we heard of Jacob's birthday party.
Jacob, the young husband of Margaret (mum) was eagerly anticipating his birthday bash at the local boozer and of course, we were invited. In fact, we were told not to leave before this momentous event (something like the Kumba Mela festival in India). We were not to be disappointed.
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Fred fires up the Barbie
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Fred, Neville and the boys had arranged that they could hold a barbeque in the grounds of the local boozer. This place that had been a daily ritual, had now become a place of celebration. The bartender warned us against getting too rowdy and we obliged by steadily making trips to the bar while keeping the BBQ going. Sometime later, somebody announced that the food was ready and we dived in. It was typical Aussie fare, steak, sausages etc. but with a gut full of piss, nobody was too picky. I must admit, that with my new family in party mode, it was hard to resist these treats. Late in the evening, Jacob proudly confided in me that he had been "pissed for a fucking week", so much had this occasion meant to him.
Next morning I woke up with a strangely unsettled stomach. As I tried to convince myself that this was just a morning feeling, I came to the abrupt realisation that I had BLOODY FOOD POISONING! Now that Mark and I were on our way to Brisbane, we took advantage of a friend who offered us shelter for a couple of days while I got my guts back.
For two days I lay in house of Ray Peterson, a slave to my intestines. His recipe of Vegemite and hot water, mixed with hot sauce seemed to straighten me out. During this whole experience I had periods of self discovery. The first was when I was vomiting uncontrollably and the second was when I realised that it really was "coming out of both ends". I had to make a choice fast and I chose to take a crap. I'd rather clean up puke than shit and on that decision my future fell. Fortunately I was able to control my insides enough to be able to choreograph the exercise, so no cleaning was necessary.
The next day I was right as rain. Intestines back to normal and no ill feelings towards the undercooked chicken that had dealt me a googly.
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Jacob and Mum
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It was time to leave the nest. Though we had grown close to Fred, Mum, Jacob, Neville and the other members of the cast, we felt it was definitely time to move on. Heading out though, a peculiar feeling came over us and that was even though we really didn't fit in, even though we weren't real Aussies, these folks treated us like we were a part of the gang.
From day one, they never gave us a hard time about our accents or where we were from, they just wanted us to hang with them. For a week of our lives we did and it was a welcome change from the world we were used to. This was "Welcome to Australia" for us and welcome we made ourselves!
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