Here’s the link to the audio version of what is written below – http://soundcloud.com/chopsuey-roaming-radio/roaming-rasela
Pop the kettle on and turn the volume up for a seven minute nibble on the ear of the Outback. The track in the background is Jamaican Mule by Oka and can be found on their latest album Milk and Honey – http://okamusic.bandcamp.com/music
Talofa … sister Rasela the wandering bellysister here, checking in from about 2,000 km’s away at the moment, in the Outback of Mt Isa, currently en route into the very centre of this humongous country, to discover some of the magic it holds. I thought it was about time i ventured away from the golden frills of the East coast, that’s been my version of Australia up until now, and started to head as far into the centre of this giant island as possible … that’s right … I’m heading for its belly button.
To say my journey began at a specific time or place would be misleading, I feel as though I’ve been travelling my whole life to get to this point. I’m awake AND alive within my personal dream to travel on endless roads, laid out ahead, with minimal definition as to where the side of the road ends, and the flat, vastness of the land around me begins. Out here, the dusty crust of the earth, appears to melt into the cracked surfaces on the land, creating a sunbaked haze that rises much like the blur above bonfire flames. It’s as though nothing lives out here, or even could, but it does and it did.
There’s a rather alarming amount of roadkill between Townsville and Mt Isa, heartbreakingly left in all manner of conditions. Some of it’s still fresh and being eaten by other wildlife as we pass, others remains, frozen, like fossils, their skeletons depicting the shape of the animal they once were.
I guess it’s an accepted part of driving on a desert road, I mean, I wouldn’t be here without such a road, and accidents happen I know, some pretty serious, but I just can’t help but feel more for these creatures out here, killed in their own home, than I do for a dented or damaged vehicle. Maybe it’s the vegetarian in me !!
Speaking of vegetarianism …. It’s like a foreign language in Queensland’s outback. I daren’t ask for a polenta bake or quinoa patty or a fresh organic salad with an apple cider vinegar and virgin olive oil dressing in any of the roadhouses along the way. There’d be no point anyway. There’s a part of me that wants to stand in the middle of the fried food roadhouse and scream out for my right to eat healthy, wholesome food … but I know my efforts would be either entirely futile or totally misunderstood. I might be taken for some looney that has gone bonkers through lack of meat … YES !!, THAT’S IT !!, the poooor girl hasn’t eaten meat for over thirty years … this was bound to happen. Take her away before this healthy disease spreads like a bed of basil and others out here start talking in that crazed vegetarian language … hmmmm … Lucky I packed my own lunch for the drive in.
I popped into the local shops in the small towns whenever we had a food break, just to look around you know, and see what kind of selection is on offer. I found alfalfa sprouts in one and some rice cakes in another, but my love of wholefoods prevents me from getting excited about too much else I’m afraid. I grabbed some bananas and a couple of not so shrivelled mandarins but it soon becomes clear to me that the further you come in, the older and more decrepit the fruit and veg gets in the small shops. Who knows where it’s come from or even when it got here. When a few of the locals appear to be struggling to exist in these trying conditions, I wonder what chance a fruit tree or vege patch might have. This is barren land, where some day’s the only thing that ever changes, is the actual name of the day !!
Some of the small towns we pass through are no more than a concrete strip of road, framed by some old wooden shop fronts, a pub, and the bus stop. They’re reminiscent of unvisited gravestones, left with no other option but to slowly deteriorate in the sweltering heat, that at this time of the year, has nowhere near reached its full and blistering potential.
People out here mention that their seasons are, interestingly, quite reversed. The winter months are still hot in the low to mid twenties so it doesn’t prevent people from enjoying all the outdoor activities that we do during our coastal summer. The evenings are cold enough to snuggle under a duvet and still fancy hot meals, soups and warm drinks. When the summer arrives though, it’s a different story. Too hot to even breath at times, in temperatures soaring well above forty, it’s a time to hibernate in
the airconditioning of either a car, workplace or at home and drink plenty of everything, with plenty of ice.
Food is a big issue out here if you want to eat organically and you don’t have your own garden. As a traveller, I don’t have time to start up a garden every place I land, so for the first time in many years, I am buying my veges and ingredients from ……. wait for it …… a supermarket. I have to admit that I am pleased to know that one in particular has a great organic isle where I can still get some of my favourite unpronounceable ingredients to whip up a meal. The choices are really limited though, and on certain days of the week there’s hardly anything left to choose from. The majority of people here, do their grocery shopping on a Saturday morning, and the traffic down those isles, is horrendous. The atmosphere is one of near desperation, with people bumping trolleys and politely fighting for the produce that has just arrived in trucks
from far far-away land. I kind of wander through, observing behaviour and clocking what people load into their baskets and trolleys … it’s not a pretty sight most of the time, let me tell you.
On a fresh note though, I came across facebook group here, called Mt Isa Fruit and Vege Swap, which is basically a group of people who either grow their own food or have fruit trees growing in their gardens. They post what they have an excess of, online, and leave an address so that you can pop over and grab what you need … for free. How many times have you walked past someones garden and wanted to jump the fence and hoe into a tree, laden with lemons or oranges, grapefruits or even mulberries ? People also swap gardening tips and herbs, an excess of basil perhaps ? A garden full of mint ? or even fruit that’s too high for the owner to pick … BYO ladder !! Fantastic community project. Byron needs one too I reckon !!
Mt Isa itself has a small fortnightly market. If you like homemade cakes made by little old ladies, fudge, handmade chocolates, and all manner of sweet treats you’re sorted, but there’s also glass jewellery, beads, doileys, knitted this and crochet that, and children’s clothes and toys. Frying away, right in the doorway to these inside stalls is the habitual sausage sizzle, the smell alone is enough to make me want to puke but I persevere with my near retching motions and make my way outside to, my now favourite stallholder …. the paw paw and honey man. Laid out on his table beneath the shade cloth, is a small but impressive array of fruits and produce from his garden, tangelos, paw paw, lemons and a variety of herbs. Even though he’s quick to verbalise the organic nature of his goods, I can’t help but question it just quietly, when not that far away – in fact right smack bang in the centre of this mining town – three chimney stacks pelt out some ungodly substance into the environment. Surely this must settle, in varying degrees, on and around the town and into the surrounding soil. I think what he really means is that he doesn’t use pesticides … either way his paw paws are superb … not quite as good as the ones in Samoa, but close … kind of …
There’s a part of me that didn’t want to eat anything when I first arrived here, I didn’t even want to breath in the air or swim in the pool for fear of being contaminated by the mining debris that the people here make endless excuses for. It’s a little too close for comfort for me and it’s times like this that I accept my circumstances, even if I don’t agree with them, and realise that there are many ways to live in this world, many choices to be made along the way, and my choice, at the moment, is to experience something out of the bubble I have been enclosed in for the past three and a half years in Byron Bay. In order to know that I have made the right choices, I’m choosing to put myself in different situations, where I have to find an alternative way to survive. I need to eat, so I have to find the best way to do that, against unusual odds at times. It’s a great instinct to develop, and it’s also refreshing to step out of a bubble and be reminded of how other people live, in order to really know that I’ve made the righ choices for ME … In MY life … and for MY body. What you chose to do with ours is entirely 100% up to YOU.
I’m outta here in a few days time anyway, leaving behind the smoking stacks, and following the road further inland on my quest to reach Alice Springs and Uluru. From there I’ll send word of fruitful discoveries and hopefully some organic love if I find some.
Meanwhile, if you’re in your vege patch this week, say hello to the herbs and the veges for me won’t you ? Giggle with the ginger, be grateful for the green beans, caress a carrot or two, stroke the silverbeet and spinach, kiss the cauliflower and be thankful for the feast that is available to you in that rich and fragrant soil of the Shire. While you’re at it … give that ocean a good long stare for me, drink in all of it’s hydrating happiness and whisper to it … that I’ll be back soon. Lots of love xoxo