Good Morning!
Weeeelcome back to another wonderful week of young, wild Wednesday living-it-up with me. It’s midweek, and I just want to say you’re doing great. You’ve got this. Even if you don’t feel like you got this, (same), but let’s just start today telling ourselves we do. It’s nearly freaking December, I’m freaking out.
But we’ve. got this.
It’s nearing the holidays, life is stressful, it’s the most wonderful, most not-so-wonderful, busy, hectic, loving, beautiful, chaotic, crazy time of the year. I’m just going to embrace it and say it how it is— I never know if I love it or hate it, but we’re all going to get through it. And if you’re feeling all the holiday feels, you’re not alone.
And warning: even if you run away to the furthest possible country, on a completely different hemisphere, with a completely different climate, and join a kiwi orchard cult…. you’ll STILL feel the holiday feels.
No one’s safe. But— we have each other, and this Wednesday we have a throwback story.
Switching it Up
This week’s blog is going to be structured a little differently than usual. And I’m going to keep it real with you guys— my brain this week, is mush.
I spend a lot of time alone in kiwi orchards with my thoughts, and let me tell you—63 hours alone in nature in a single week, with your thoughts… will change you. Or at least will drain you. It’s crazy the range of emotions, thoughts, and realizations you can go through in a single day when you’re doing repetitive, mindless work.
Tonight at dinner I was chatting with my fellow farmers:
“Guys. I want to ask you something.
But I’m scared you’ll think I’m losing my mind.
Which I am.
But does anyone else sometimes think they maybe might see someone walking towards them out of the corner their eye….
like you’re hallucinating shadows?”
Everyone simultaneously, so casually, replied, “oh yeah all the time.” They even proceeded to tell me that’s why Todd, our supervisor, tries to approach us head on so he doesn’t scare us. Because after hours and hours of this work we’re so lost in our own little bubble, that this has become normal. Going crazy is now normal :)
ANYWAYS.
My point is, I’ve spent a lot of time in my little bubble reflecting this week, and found myself thinking a lot about my time on the banana farm. There are so many similarities between the work I’m doing, the lifestyles, the culture—all of it. It’s hard not to think about, and compare, and reflect. And really, I just want to reminisce.
SO Instead of a coffee catch up, or taking you into the world of my life in Te Puke (kiwifruit land), this week, I’m taking you to Tully.
Pull up your google maps, type in Tully, Queensland, and you’ll find yourself located somewhere between Townsville and Cairns, in the tropical far northern parts of sunny Australia.
Today we’re all teleporting to Tully; the land of cassowaries, crocs, and a sea full of stinging jellies. But most importantly of all, it’s the land of banana farming.
“In my perception, the world wasn't a graph or formula or an equation. It was a story.”
- Cheryl Strayed
Yep, it’s a story, and today we’re having story time. I’ve dug this one up straight from the archives, and the OG followers will know. When I joined the banana farm , I couldn’t help but write about my experiences, and this is one of the first ones I ever shared.
Reading this back, it amazed me just how similarly I talk about both these farm experiences. From relating them both to a “game”, to sharing my purpose for choosing to work on a farm in the first place— I think you’ll all feel just how similar these experiences really are for me.
I hope you enjoy this read! It makes me feel so nostalgic, and I can truly say my life has never been the same, since joining the banana farm.
(Side note: please forgive the writing, I’m pretty sure I remember typing this up laying in the top bunk of an 8-bed dorm at the YHA hostel— ha.)
Straight from the Archives: Bri Goes Bananas
February 1, 2020
Isn’t it crazy— how all the little moments in our life have led up to this very one we’re in right now?
I was sitting in the van on the way to my first day of farm work, thinking about all the little moments that added up to bring me here. I was nervous.. but I also knew because of where I’d been, I was prepared, and more importantly that I was here for a reason. (You don’t end up on a banana farm without a story behind it, that I know for sure.)
Driving in the van on the way to the farm, brought me back to my high school years playing soccer. Playing soccer, I was part of a team— and it gave me the sense that I was part of something bigger than myself.
And as I sat in the van amongst all of my farmer friends, dressed in our Hi Vis uniforms, playing music to pump us up for the day ahead— I realized this wasn’t all that different. For the first time in 5 years, I was part of a team again… and something, again, that was certainly bigger than myself.
The only difference between soccer and the farm, is that when I played soccer I used to joke about getting a farmers tan… and now I'd really have one… like a real one.
I get why they call it that now.
Some Context
Going into day one, I somewhat knew what to expect. Somewhat.
I’d been living in a hostel with the people who worked on the banana farm for over a week now. I’d heard stories about what goes on, how their day went… I saw them come home day after day in pain.
When my hostel friends found out I was joining the “team”, they sat me down and helped explain what I was really getting myself into. And for context— no one thought I should join. No. one.
For more context— I struggled to get this job. Like I pretty much begged my way onto this farm. They didn’t want Americans, they didn’t want girls, and they most definitely didn’t want me.
I didn’t show up to this hostel with any intentions of ever doing farm work. I had no gear, and no idea what farm work really was. My only motive to join was simply because I wanted to try it. It sounded hard… but the group looked so close and connected like their own little family, and I desperately wanted to be apart of that.
Every single other person there was required to do farm work to extend their visa (which didn’t necessarily apply to American visas… and at the time I had 0 interest in extending my visa at all). But something was drawing me in.
You can imagine then, my boss, felt 0 motive to hire me.
Why would anyone want to do this minimum wage, miserable job… if it wasn’t to extend their visa?
Okay, enough context. Back to the story.
I was nervous, very nervous. And I was very aware, there was still a lot I didn’t know. I felt like I had a lot to prove, but I wasn’t even entirely sure what that was.
In hindsight, I’m starting to think in life, that’s just kinda how I roll— I’m going to dive straight into the deep end, with enough information to get by, leave a little bit of room for surprise, and wing it. Gracefully, just, wing it.
I felt a deep confidence that no matter what lay ahead, I was going to do this… I had to do this. I begged to be here. I didn’t need to know all the challenges, I already accepted them wholeheartedly.
Bring it on.
Day One: My New Normal
The farm is structured routine. A well oiled machine, if you will.
Everyone falls into place as soon as we arrive. They know exactly what they’re doing and where they’re going as soon as we get off the bus. They put on their black gum boots and head into the warehouse filled with a frenzy of people, who are all also a bit seemingly robot-like.
Meanwhile I’m hardly off the bus while everyone else’s auto pilot seems to takes over… and you could say I’m already, quite noticeably, out of place. 🙃
I learn very quickly that every day we do the same thing:
We wear the same thing. These neon shirts (Hi Vis), black shorts, tall socks, and wellies (rain boots).
We wake up between 5:00-5:30am, and have to be in the van by 5:45am.
We must have sunscreen, a hat, an extra pair of socks, at least one (very large) water bottle, and remember to pack a lunch.
We then drive 40 minutes to a town named Tully where the farm is located, and that’s when the fun begins.
The Boss’s name is Butcher. Yes Butcher, the farmer contractor man. This sounds made up but I promise it’s true.
The thing I’ve learned about living and working here is the people of authority aren’t exactly the kindest to travelers. I can explain that in a different post but for now, Butcher has no sympathy for anyone, including me. No smiles or polite words will get me anywhere in Tully and I learned that here very quickly. He wants a farm worker, and won’t be satisfied with anything less than what he expects.
I spoke to Butcher for about 20 seconds when we got there. I handed him my paperwork, he told the girls to show me how things go, and that was that.
The work
Like I said the farm runs like a well oiled machine with a thousand moving parts.. I learned to keep quiet and just follow everyone else. We show up, drop our bags, put our work boots on, and jump into our designated trucks to go to the paddocks (area of trees) we are working in.
Everyone somehow knows exactly which area of trees they’re going to and how to get there, and I still really can’t wrap my head around it. They showed me the map.. but still.. it’s a map of TREES ?? I don’t get it. Either way. I’m just the passenger and for now I don’t need to understand that.
We’re all divided into different teams..I’ll explain mine:
I’m part of the tree-stringing team, there’s 4 of us and it’s all the girls. Our job is to string the banana trees together to prevent the trees from falling over and ruining the fruits. I was given a knife to cut strings, and a clicker to keep count of my work. That’s what I do every day all day, string after string, tying and pulling trees together to hold one another up.
Sounds easy enough, maybe?
But things got interesting when I found out we need to get a minimum of 600 strings a day, or bye bye to you.
The days are divided into 3 sessions, each session is just over 2 hours with two 20 minute breaks in between each. Doing the math that means we aim for 100 strings an hour, or 200 strings per session.
My very first session I got 44 strings.
44.
My very first day I got 223 strings total. That’s less than half the strings I’m supposed to get every day— mind you, I felt I was going as fast as I possibly could.
The girls on the team spent about 15 minutes teaching me how to do it, and then we all went off on our own separate ways.
I was dripping sweat, getting eaten alive by bugs, trying not to step on a snake, stringing as fast as I humanly knew how... and the thing is, I didn’t really know how. I was completely alone messing up time after time, because there’s a certain technique to tying that we must follow, and it’s not as easy as I thought.
The strings are like twine material and my hands were burning unbelievably bad. You can imagine how discouraged I was after the first day. I needed to triple my speed and I couldn’t possibly imagine going any faster than I was. The girls reassured me I was only getting started and that it would be okay... but I have no patience and hated feeling so behind. I felt like I failed.
Flash Forward
By the third day I nearly doubled the amount of strings I did, I was up to 458 strings that day. Briefly, I felt very happy, but still concerned because again, I was running through these paddocks for 6 hours just to still fall short by over 100 strings.
My tying was getting better and better, but even so, there are so many other obstacles in the way. Strings are constantly getting stuck or breaking, and you have to choose the tree that will sensibly hold up the other one… and they’re not always positioned conveniently to one another.
You’re stepping and dodging other trees, leaves, branches, and spider webs all in your face while trying to tie this particular knot high above your head. And not every tree needs stringing.. sometimes they are 10 trees apart, which is when I need to start running to be able to meet my target numbers.
It’s hard work, stressful… and on top of that, it’s seriously uncomfortable. Every day, every session, I’m improving… but my fingers are bleeding, my legs are cut up and the flies may be the worst of all. The ungroomed environment we’re working in, filled with snakes, insects, and tall grass, makes it extremely difficult to adapt, and get the work done.
It’s now day 4, I got 567 strings, and tomorrow is my last day to get to 600 or my time on the farm will be over.
I know I can do it, and I’m determined to.. but even after tomorrow there’s no end in sight. I will then need 600 strings a day, every day, from now on, for the next 3 months of work I have ahead. And that’s almost scarier than failing. It’s hard to wrap my head around.
Staying in the Game
I now understand why we behave, and prepare, for these farm days the same ways I once did for a big soccer game.. because working on the farm is more of a game than I realized. Butcher is our coach, and he plays mind games like all coaches do sometimes. He has expectations and if they’re not met— you’re out, simple.
I’m constantly observing, watching the group, learning the ways to keep up with everyone else… the ways to stay in the game.
Every day my routine is becoming more and more strict. Everything I do now is to set myself up to be the best player I can be. Better meals, earlier bed time, tons of water, packing bandages, icing myself... because without this preparation, none of us would last.
But I realized, I’d been preparing for this long before I ever knew I’d be working on a banana farm. At the root of these challenges, the most important thing we can do is train the mind… to believe we are capable of doing so much more than we ever thought we could.
And in that respect, I know I have what it takes to do this— and now I just need to work on the skills to get the job done.
Banana Farmer Bri, almost 1 week in of 12, and I plan to see this thing through to the very end 💛
Wrapping it Up
And that concludes this weeks blog!
And with the year wrapping up, it all feels very full circle; nearly 4 years later, I’m on another farm, in a new country, with new fruit, and with the same girl who taught me how to string 4 years ago—?? And to think I kind of just ended up here, in another farm situation, with her, somewhat by sheer coincidence.
Isn’t that wild?
That’s wild.
And on that note— I hope you enjoyed one of the very first blogs I ever wrote, and shared! This was a super meaningful one to me for so many reasons, my life has truly never been the same.
Have a wonderfully wild, reflective, positive, happy, fun, Wednesday!
I will chat to you next week!! xxx