Bowen, Queensland

I bid my new friends farewell and left the Backpackers By the Bay, heading 40 minutes north to Bowen where I had finally acquired the accommodations I was waiting on.

Driving into Bowen, I felt really positive and inspired by my wonderful week as a re-born traveller in Airlie Beach. Upon arriving in Bowen it was clear to see how small, secluded and working class status the town is, but I set my big city standards aside and dragged myself and my bags towards Bowen Backpackers. It was only 3pm and already there were old, sun stroked drunks stumbling in the streets outside the bar, leering and whistling in my general direction. Hooray.

I was greeted by a sign that said: “We’re out picking up the workers, be back at 3:45.” I waited until 4pm and then noticed there was a buzzer, which I promptly pressed and out popped Sian (pronounced Shan, of Welsh background, apparently), one of the owners. She handed me paperwork to fill out: my name, my citizenship and my signature stating that I would not leave the hostel and go elsewhere if I was given work, or else a 150$ finders fee would apply. Sure, why not.

The hostel itself is much like a campground. You enter the ‘lot’ by key access and there are a number of bunk houses that 88 workers call home. Some units have fans, some have air conditioning (10$ more per week), most are 4 beds per room, some 8. I am led to room 18 where I am shown my top bunk and ‘shelving unit’ (a plank of wood which is completely useless) and am introduced to my new roommates. Kristina and Kristy are both Estonian and have lived here for over 4 months, Pam is from Zimbabwe and looks nothing like I might expect a Zimbabwean to look like.

I drop off my belongings and Sian shows me the kitchen, a large room with 7 refrigerators (hardly enough for 88 people to live out of), a freezer, 3 stovetops, 2 ovens and 3 sinks. She insists we must wash our own dishes, something she is clearly adamant about seeing as there are signs everywhere threatening to kick people out if the surveillance camera catches them not doing there dishes. How very Big Brother.

Then, and only then, am I shown the work list and told that I am 8th in line on the waiting list. It appears the season has been slow and a few of the farms have shut down for a few weeks, leaving many of the backpackers out of work. Apparently some of the girls at the top of the list have been here for 3 weeks and since people keep losing work because farms closing down, they keep getting bumped back down and having to wait for others to find new position. I find myself stunned and annoyed that I hadn’t been warned of this situation before having to pay my non-refundable 145$ week’s rent.

I head back to my room in dismay. The premises are dirty and, aside from 3 picnic tables outside the kitchen, there is nowhere to socialize or read outside of the bunk houses. The facilities clearly don’t cater to a community experience and the rules enforced by signs everywhere make it clear that people are expected to stay within their rooms and be quiet. Then suddenly an announcement comes through a speaker in the ceiling: “Sophia! Sophia, please come to the office immediately.” How very Big Brother.

I slightly unpack my things thinking that I might not be here for long and then go out to the picnic tables. Everyone is in groups and no one notices my presence. I feel insecure and introverted for the first time in many years, all I want to do is curl up in a ball and cry. I can’t help but think that I’m trapped in this place for at least a week and have no way of going about finding agricultural work for myself, which is what I came here to do. I call my love, he is supportive and shows concern, reassures me that there’s always a solution and that we’ll find one. We talk things out and I feel much better knowing that there is surely a way to figure this all out and I head to bed to sleep on it.

To be continued…