Welcome to Petrovski

(The blue/yellow bins we fill with pears and the house I eat, pee, and drink tea in)

Hi,
Today I hope to introduce you to my picking family at the current farm.
You already met good old frenchie Justin and Stan the man.
Here are our new family:

Victor The Victorious
Another german-russian man, very energic, once, we were aiming to do 6 bins (of pears) each for the day (our top score, achieved only once), on the last bins, he started talking to pears and told us "the pears are saying PICK ME, NO PICK ME, ME ME ME!" of course he is not insane, but definitly crazy. We have lots of fun making stupid jokes and faces.

Jimmy The Big Boss
An old man, the father of Arthuer (see below), goes around the farm while we are picking with his motor bike and tells us what to do, he is really funny, when he gets frustrated and angry he throws fucks and bastards together and then keeps on talking, confusing, for example he would be talking about trees that had two varieties of pears and would suddenly say "fucking bastard fuck" and then say "those jewish people make these trees". He likes talking with us, and mentioning "jiggy-jiggy" from time to time.

Arthuer The Boss
The owner of the farm, always working, from 7-8 in the morning till 8-9 at night, drinks coffee and smokes ciggirates all day. Really good boss, he takes everyone into consideration. Sometimes when I smile at him while he is working he would shout "WHAT!" and i would shrink and make up something to say or just say "nothing... how are you?" He is pretty cool, I might come back and work for him. He also gives us beer sometimes after work!

Trevor The Helper
Trever is a funny-fun old lad, in his 50s, yet still full of energy, a high funny voice, and a tendancey to talk to himself. He always makes a joke about him not doing anything and still getting paid, and gives a little devil's chuckle, its hiliarous, awesome dude. He wants to travel around with a fancy caravan when he finishes. I always tell him "Don't work too hard!" and he would reply "ha ha! yeaaaa right!" (he works as much as Arthur).

Jimmy The Clean
As I mentioned before, most men and woman here are Macedonians, and Jimmy is one that lives in Melbourne. We always sit with him at work, and talk about bins and picking. He likes Victor, and he would shout over the fields of pear trees "VICTOR! Too slow!" and will everyday, twice, say to Victor "If Hitler win, all speak German!" I think Victor is really tired of that. He is called The Clean because he picks 7 bins a day of pure pears, no leaves, no branches, nothing but pears.

Viki The Cats' Lady
She loves cats, and we have plenty of them under the house, "I come here every year, for 20 years (or something long like that), they are my babies!" she told me once about the cats. Every morning she would wake up and call "Puss puss poss" to feed the cats. She is the mother of the family, always taking care of everyone and providing help for who needs it.

Nicola The Confusing
The only words I understand from him are Yes, Hello, Good morning, Is Ok, and No. The rest of his words are either Macedonian and Russian, but he keeps talking, thinking that we (mostly me) would understand him, I can't, one word I would always mention to him is "What?!" He is a good man though, and has a joyful laugh.

Meitrai The Giant
A giant man with giant feet, picks 10 bins a day, and ONLY eats instant noodles, tomoato sauce, and curry powder everyday, every meal! We were all trying to figure out how he does it, but its really illogical.

Nygeal The Dreamer
I sleep in my tent, and he sleeps in his car, and I always hear him dreaming, mostly nightmares, they dont sound very good. I love his laugh and his laugh-face, espacially when he gets drunk on french brandy, he talks a lot and tells us some funny stories. He is fun to talk to.

Omar The Storyteller
As his name suggests, he loves talking stories, history, and politics. He doesn't live with us in the farm, but he comes over after work sometimes. "I never say please" one time he said, and he talks until we have to sneak out to go to bed. But I love his talks, I always find it interesting to listen to his view of politics and the history of countries.

And that is all, it's not a bad family, but I like it. I love how everyone is different and always love listening to all of them.

I am finishing work soon, my skin is full of scratches, my back feels like an old man, my bones are aching with pain, and my mind is aching for a thai massage. At the end of the Williams (the pears we are picking) picking season, the Big Boss organizes a barbaque for all the pickers with good food and beer, I am looking forward for that!

Melbourne, here I come! again...

Pears, pears, bin, pears, pears.

That's all I am thinking about now, "today I have to pick 4 bins, I gotta pick the pears this way so I can get maximum speed!" "4 bins a day, 10 days to go, $31 per bin, $27 after tax, multiply 4 and 10, and then $27... that would be enough money then... what if I got 5 bins? what if I had 12 days instead?" my mind races and calculates.

But before I got on with the pears, I must try to rewind and start at where I stopped last time.

Butch and Ross came, drunk, and said "We've got you a job boys! picking pears! stripping! you don't have to think about which ones you pick, you just take everything and throw it in your bag! it's good money!" our eyes twinkled, we were a bit tired from the farm we were at, we had to wait a while until we picked plums, pears sounded better, and easier, and a new place would be a nice change.

A day ago, Butch came and sat with us, and he said "Respect each other, help each other out, stick together, and look at the world right in the fucking eyes."

So we decided we would go, the next day.
The day before "the next day" Butch and Ross came again and said "come to Ross' place! we going to have a BBQ!" I knew what that involved, lots of smoking, drinking, and senseless talking, and a bit of food. So we did, slept in Ross' house, woke up in the morning (5am, because we had to work at 6.30pm) went back to our place, got ready, and went to do some weeding in that vegetables farm we worked in before. It was really hot, and very tiring.

We went back home and packed our stuff, waited for Butch and Ross for 6 hours, and they didn't come (we found out later that they were getting drunk again that day)
So we called a friend of ours with a car (this is me, Justin, and Stan by the way) and she drove us to the new farm.

Filled with Macedonians, the farm was huge with many pears and small amount of apples. We camped outside a half-house (which contained 2 rooms and a kitchen in between them) The old men (most of the pickers here were old Macedonian men and woman) told us immediately not to touch their stuff, clean the "eating table" after eating, don't cook before 9pm, and go to sleep at 10. We didn't feel very welcomed, and it was a bit strange. Stan stayed at another house, which was a bit bigger.

So started the first day of picking pears, it was not bad, you pick the pears by pulling it up upwards (not downwards), from 6am to 5pm (but we get to choose when to start/finish) and we have to fill a bin with 500kg of pears. First day was not bad for a start, 8 bins for three people, but that would be boring to write about.

Sadly, there isn't much more to say. All I can add is I sleep on a veranda with my tent on hard wood, the ground has been wet (and wet again today) and muddy, it's either really hot or raining here (some days it's nice, but doesn't last long, it comes in between the hot day and the rainy day), I have been dance-picking (picking pears while dancing), I go crazy after 3pm (when picking) and start making animal noises, climbing the trees, pick with passionate rage, and run around like a ninja.

In the end, I will come back to Brisbane soon, after a week of Melbourne, possibly in the start of March.
End transmission.