The first few days in Perth and Fremantle were the last for Devin’s west coast jaunt, and sadly also for our merry band of itinerant miscreants. Therefore our time was spent primarily in frenzy, reorganizing and looking for accommodation, post offices, and the means to mail two unwieldy didgeridoos across the world. Our first night in the caravan park near town was fairly low-key. There we befriended a pair of young Quebecers over dinner and some free, boxed wine that was thrust upon us by departing retirees. We noticed this particular phenomenon during our stay there – apparently, the more destitute you look as a weary backpacker, the more handouts you receive. As we sat in the camp kitchen that night, we had no less than four different people approach us with bags of food and supplies. Thank you Australia, we are not below free food.
In addition to this catastrophe, we were experiencing mental and emotional panic about where we should be staying (city or country), how we were going to sell our car, and how we were going to forestall our upcoming bankruptcy, among other things. Triple suck. Anyway, no need to go into detail about all of this. It’s boring, it’s not fun, and you don’t want to read it. To sum up: It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. I think I’ll move to Austral… wait crap. (Childhood literature reference anyone?)