Well it’s been a dramatic and then boring last few weeks in Berri. About two weeks ago somebody decided to organise some sports games in the hostel in the form of a Berri Olympics. At the last minute despite a long day in work, I decided to take part. It was fun – sack races, wheelbarrow races and all that. The last game we played was the schoolboy’s favourite of snatch the bacon.  Needless to say it was a bit more hands-on than when played at school and when my number was called I snatched the bacon and quickly received a dislocated arm when a big German friend fell on it.

I heard a loud cracking sound and looked back at my elbow, which had formed itself into some implausible shape. I collapsed onto the sand and it took everyone a few seconds to realise exactly what had happened. Somebody called an ambulance immediately while Marie made some effort to comfort me. I just remember trying to focus on anything except the pain. It took about 15 minutes for the paramedics to arrive, but if felt like an hour. The first thing they did was give me a painkiller inhaler which made me a little giddy, promptly followed by a shot of morphine which changed my mood completely. I looked around for the first time and saw about 10 people all standing looking at me which seemed like the funniest thing in the world. More drugs and a very slow walk to the ambulance followed, while somebody held my shoulder and somebody else held my limp arm. I got a message on facebook later from a friend who said it was the most “brutal and entertaining” thing to happen in Berri all month.

I lay in the A&E of the tiny Berri hospital with Marie by my side quite amused by my predicament, and pleased that at least I’d get the next day off work (or maybe it was the morphine). There was no x-ray operator on duty so he had to be called in. When the x-ray was finally ready the doctor switched on the light box and said “bloody hell”. It’s included in the pictures below. There was some talk of flying me to Adelaide because they do not have an operating theatre in Berri, but in the end the night-time doctor decided, thankfully, to perform a “reduction” there and then. They filled me up with even more drugs (ketamine) which lulled me off to a surreal dreamland where all the doctors and the hospital itself were made of sand. I woke up, rather dazed, but with a more normal looking arm.

What was brilliant about the whole incident was the immediate helpfulness of everybody in the hostel. I was being supported from behind for about 20 minutes while the paramedics did their stuff and I didn’t even realise it. I looked around and it was Tom, whom I’d only met that day, holding me up. Everybody offered words of support throughout (while in some cases it was obvious from their voices that they were really thinking “F**king hell!”) Mitsu, another friend from the hostel, drove Marie down the hospital three times that night to collect various things and insisted on waiting while Marie was in with me. He came down to the hospital the next day off his own bat to collect me but I was asleep. When I finally returned to the hostel he had bought me a case of cold beer. Heart-warming stuff.

So with a banjaxed arm I wasn’t able to work the last two weeks of my job. I’ve been sitting around the hostel killing time and waiting for Marie to get home. Now the car is repaired with a purring refurbished engine, my arm is somewhat functional and Marie’s work is finished. We’re finally ready to escape the Berri Prison. It’s about time too. We intended to stay here for 3 months but ended up staying for 5. A lot of our good friends have left. New people have arrived to take their place, mind you, and they’re nice too but it just ain’t the same.

The last few days of work were amusing if heavy-going. The Greek supervisor mentioned in the previous blog entry has major problems with the English language despite living in Australia for 20 years. The Greeks live in close-nit communities and speak only Greek to each other. He never learned the difference between “who” and “where”. When he found out that one of the pickers had a Korean girlfriend he decided that this was the reason that he wasn’t picking the best fruit. “Too much jiggy jiggy last night and now you no see the colours. This is problem. Look at in the colours. No more jiggy jiggy night before work.” he would say every morning.

Not being able to work for the final two weeks, $800 in hospital bills yet to be re-paid by the VHI, and the extra grand it cost to fix the car have hit us a bit financially and we have less money than we thought we’d have. The original idea was to spend a month just travelling, and then settle in one of the cities to find proper jobs. Now it looks like we’ll have to work as we travel. We’re set for a 6-day drive across the Nullabor desert taking us 3,000km west to Perth. We’ll drive when it’s light and camp each evening. An Irish Times travel journalist recently described Perth as “the place in the world where I’d most like to live.” I’m looking forward to restaurants with good food and table service (within budget of course), proper pubs (the two pubs in Berri are like the surface of Pluto: cold and devoid of atmosphere or life signs), public transport, busy streets, cinemas, live music, non-religious bookshops, Asian supermarkets, better internet access any places with a bit of charm and character because, despite the TV advertisements we talked about a few months ago, the Riverland has f**k all.

So here we go. I just hope the car holds out. Next update from the other side.x