Orange is the new Stan: An intimate week in Melbourne.
We're now many months into our (hopefully first) year in Australia, so far in fact that the whole "going home" thing is starting to pop up in conversations. I'm not going to lie, I don't like it. I know everyone says that the year will go quickly but we both still hoped it wouldn't and while time on the farm passed astronomically slowly, here we are finding ourselves on our way to 8 months.
So far, the most prominent thing to come to mind as I'm writing this out is "How did we get this so wrong?". Aussies sure don't like their drama but somehow, we've managed to lap it up and I can't help but scratch my head in confusion as I don't quite remember signing up for that. What drama? You might find yourself asking and at this point, one of those "Last time on..." introductions would appear and you would see various clips of us getting into pickle after pickle in a bid to achieve the challenge set. It would also feature us still clad head to toe in our "winter gear" as the weather has yet to actually warm up for us! We unfortunately don't have a camera crew with us to record these testing times and we're actually not that interesting. Instead, I'll try and give you an insight into our post-farm life. It goes a little bit like this.
We left the farm. It was a glorious day, for many reasons.
1. We were leaving.
2. It was a beautiful, hot day.
3. We helped organise and carry out The Great [Farm] Escape.
Our time on the farm had been made 50 million times worse by the full-timers so by the point of leaving, we didn't mind sharing our troubles. This included a lovely couple who had arrived in Australia merely a week before accepting the positions that we had just left. With the job itself lending a strong hand in helping to secure their feelings, they decided to make a quick escape so Kjel bundled them and their bags into Stan and made a dash for the nearest train station before returning to help finish our own packing. It's certainly not something we'd have ever done in the UK but given the circumstances and their wish for freedom after not even a week, we were happy to help and made for an enjoyable exit of our own.
We started our own adventure in Melbourne. I'm still not quite sure about the city. It's less "Suits" than Sydney but somehow it's not quite as easy to forget the businessness; it's more interesting than Brisbane but much colder. So as I say, I've still not quite made up my mind. Our time there was spent flushing out all aspects of farm-y-ness from our souls: massages, pancakes from The Pancake Parlour (which were ruddy 'ansome), retail therapy, a trip to the Eureka Skydeck- not very "cultural, make me a better person" but completely necessary after many, many weeks working with the cows.
We felt delightfully dairy free and ready for some travelling. As we are due to head to Bali for Christmas from Brisbane, we didn't want to make any U-turns back towards the west of Melbourne once we were on the way. As we were already so close, we wanted to make a quick stop to Werribee Open Range Zoo and Werribee Gorge National Park.
Werribee Zoo was quaint and enjoyable; it's main perk was a free 40 minute open safari bus tour that took us close to their more exotic animals. We even had a giraffe parade as 5 or 6 slowly strolled past the bus giving us a very close up viewing.
We never made it to Werribee Gorge. Stan had thrown his final wobbly with us before we got there and thus began 10ish days of unplanned waiting. We'd barely made it 10 kilometres on the freeway back to Melbourne when he blew. I think myself rather fortunate that my little Aygo has never caused me any issues and I've always felt terribly for the poor souls on the hard shoulder, bonnets raised, smoke raising and felt glad that that's never been me. But here we were. On the hard shoulder. Bonnet up. Only a bit of smoke from the engine bay but oil pouring from underneath. After our oil warnings in Queensland and the transmission issues in South Australia, we were once again on pause from our planned road trip.
As we weren't close enough to the city, our tow took us to what even Aussie himself Adam Hills refers to as "the middle of nowhere" Bacchus Marsh. We can now confirm that we now know this town like the back of our hand. After a couple of nights staying in Stan outside of the garage, we had to vacate in order for work to start. We weren't in the best of spirits but thought that we at least needed to make the most of being " van-free" so decided to stay in St Kilda for a few nights.
Given the situation, it was definitely the right choice. We decided to venture to the pier at sunset to at least attempt to see its famous fairy penguins- in all honesty, I wasn't all that hopeful. I needn't have worried. We had a wonderful evening spotting 7 or 8 little penguins in and on the rocks by the water. The forecast was looking good for the Friday evening so we planned to return then. Even though the warmer weather brought out more people, we ended up having an even better time. We must have seen at least 20 or more penguins by the time we left on Friday night, even catching glimpses of them swimming around the bay. Unlike Wednesday, they were really vocal, calling out across the harbour. Two or three were brave enough to walk in front of us on the paths and we even caught sight of two tiny babies hiding between the rocks. It was the lift we needed after a difficult few days.
We spent the following day relocating to an outer-suburb Air BnB as the Halloween weekend had meant literally all the hostels in and around Melbourne were booked up. Although a royal pain to travel to and from, we made it up to ourselves by attending the "Say Cheese Cheese Festival" that we discovered from signs on a tram in St Kilda. It was amazing. We stuffed our faces with as much taster cheese as we could find and indulged ourselves with the highly praised "Milk the Cow" fondue. We stayed until the stalls started closing down and decided to make the short rendezvous to Brighton beach to see the famous brightly coloured huts. The view was lovely (when we could actually see, it was so blustery that we were being stung left, right and centre by flying sand). Still stuffed full of cheese, we made our way back to the garage to see where Stan had got to in the process of mending him.
Not far. It turns out. With the wrong part ordered and being busy, nothing was done by the time we got back on the Monday (a week since we broke down). I can't say I was too happy but we were at least allowed to stay in Stan that night. His new oil-cooler was fitted and the flushing process started early on Tuesday to get his pipes and cooler free of oil. We were hopeful that we would be back on the road by the evening. How wrong we were. Barely an hour or two later and we got a phone call to say that Stan had blown his radiator, he was on his way back on the back of the tow-truck.
We were given the rough costs of a new radiator, hoses and labour to mend his new break but it was just too much. We couldn't risk spending out on that with the chance that something else could go on the way to Brisbane. Painfully, we made the choice to leave him behind and made arrangements to hire a car instead. The events that follow this scene would have indeed made it onto the "Last time on..." reel.
We hired a car. The diagram on the website said it would fit a double mattress. The guy on the phone said it would fit a double mattress. The lady on the phone said it would fit a double mattress. We drove the car to Stan. We hauled the mattress out of Stan. We put the mattress into the car. It didn't fit. Cue many phone calls. We haul the mattress out of the car and back into Stan.
The next day. We take the car back. We switch it for a 2007 Mitsubishi Van, dressed in the garish orange of the Traveller's Autobarn branding. We haul the mattress out of Stan. It fits- Hoorah! We move all of our stuff from Stan into the new van, Sanchez (not our choice of name, but one already stuck to the side of our garish new set of wheels). It was progress. We were happy. We said our woeful goodbyes to Stanley and we finally left. It had gotten pretty late so made camp not too far away.
The following day. We make our acquaintance with Sanchez, our tango amigo. We decide to do some road-tripping. We set the Sat-Nav to head to the Dandenong Ranges, avoiding the toll roads in Melbourne. We overtake a tow-truck parked on the side of the road that leads to a steep hill. We slow down, we wait until it's clear, we start to drive round, we change to second gear and BANG. No less than TWENTY-FOUR hours after picking up the van, Sanchez's fan shatters across the road and coolant pours from underneath and we again await a tow-truck.
For the third time in 3 consecutive days, we made our way back to the Melbourne hire depot, awaiting our next move. We were fortunately given a newer model of the van, hauled the mattress out of Sanchez and put it into our currently unnamed new-new orange coated van and switched our belongings over, yet again.
And so I will end this saga of drama. It's taken a good two week chunk out of our travelling time; a good chunk out of our travel money; and a good chunk out of our sanity. It may be more tangerine inside and out than Stan and stick out in the street like a sore thumb, but we at least have a working set of wheels and, once again, have set forth on our travels!
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