Looking at the Australian government's website to extend my visa the night before, I saw a lack of information that slightly concerned me.... So I called the government while I picked strawberries, one hand in the strawberry bushes, the other hand with my phone on my ear. I was 18th on the wait list. The jazzy hold music played in my ear, the soundtrack of my anticipation. An hour passed. Finally a representative, with her sweet Australian accent picked up on the other end.
Three months, no piano. Longer than I'd ever gone without touching keys in my life. Three months of breaking my back. Three months to destroy my teeth eating too many strawberries, in which I'm needing dental work (OK totally my fault). Living in filthy conditions where the hot water/the water in general would run out (limiting cooking time, and sometimes going without showers) on a tiny bunk bed with 12 girls in my room, none of whom spoke fluent English (but it was lovely getting to know them, I'm a people person anyway), trash piling up to the point of flies and bugs everywhere and dirt all over because our cleaning lady left unexpectedly. No soap, toilets wouldn't flush, no paper towels, or toilet paper. A bus would take us to the shopping center once or twice a week to get groceries. It felt like prison. There was no where to go. Our room was broken into several times, and girls laptops were taken. I hid mine every day. 12 hour days of picking, 7 days a week during many of the high times in the season. Not much mercy when it came to requesting even one day off per week. Picking in the thunder and pouring rain, in the freezing wind, or in the heat and humidity. Three months of pressure to keep working despite physical injuries. I would sleep on my back and my arms would start falling asleep, because of nerve damage, and it still is happening now a few months later, though it is getting better. I pulled muscles a few times, limping while pushing my trolley around. My fingers and my wrists messed up to the point that it hurt to play guitar, and made me scared to start playing piano again. My joints, my knees, my toes..Need I go on... Physical and emotional trauma, which I'm in recovery mode from, all for the sake of extending my visa one more year to be a volunteer with a mission organization. And the plan failed.
As soon as I got off the phone with the government, I finished my row, just in shock. I pushed my trolley to the weight station where my boss was. He was annoyed. I hadn't turned around to finish the other side of my row. And I lost it. I was done. I finally cracked. And I didn't pick one more strawberry. To this day I avoid eating them best as I can. I had to leave the country 10 days later, because my visa current visa was expiring December 10. So in that moment, I decided to leave the country with as big of a bang as I could. I refused to feel anything that week, but excitement and adrenaline. Check it out yo...
"Hi, I'm Heidi Osborne, I'm looking for the paperwork to extend my working holiday visa, but it doesn't seem to let me do it properly..."
So we talked back and forth, as she walked me through the process. Then, after 5 or 10 minutes, realization struck her when she found out I'm American... "OH! You're on the work AND holiday visa. You can't extend!" -silence- -shock- -tension- "Oh...." "But, I, I can put you on with the tourist visa line, see if they can do something for you but you could probably only stay another 2 months..." She could sense my stress and anxiety on the other side. "n-no, thats find." "are you sure?" "yes, thank you." And the conversation was over.
Three months, no piano. Longer than I'd ever gone without touching keys in my life. Three months of breaking my back. Three months to destroy my teeth eating too many strawberries, in which I'm needing dental work (OK totally my fault). Living in filthy conditions where the hot water/the water in general would run out (limiting cooking time, and sometimes going without showers) on a tiny bunk bed with 12 girls in my room, none of whom spoke fluent English (but it was lovely getting to know them, I'm a people person anyway), trash piling up to the point of flies and bugs everywhere and dirt all over because our cleaning lady left unexpectedly. No soap, toilets wouldn't flush, no paper towels, or toilet paper. A bus would take us to the shopping center once or twice a week to get groceries. It felt like prison. There was no where to go. Our room was broken into several times, and girls laptops were taken. I hid mine every day. 12 hour days of picking, 7 days a week during many of the high times in the season. Not much mercy when it came to requesting even one day off per week. Picking in the thunder and pouring rain, in the freezing wind, or in the heat and humidity. Three months of pressure to keep working despite physical injuries. I would sleep on my back and my arms would start falling asleep, because of nerve damage, and it still is happening now a few months later, though it is getting better. I pulled muscles a few times, limping while pushing my trolley around. My fingers and my wrists messed up to the point that it hurt to play guitar, and made me scared to start playing piano again. My joints, my knees, my toes..Need I go on... Physical and emotional trauma, which I'm in recovery mode from, all for the sake of extending my visa one more year to be a volunteer with a mission organization. And the plan failed.
As soon as I got off the phone with the government, I finished my row, just in shock. I pushed my trolley to the weight station where my boss was. He was annoyed. I hadn't turned around to finish the other side of my row. And I lost it. I was done. I finally cracked. And I didn't pick one more strawberry. To this day I avoid eating them best as I can. I had to leave the country 10 days later, because my visa current visa was expiring December 10. So in that moment, I decided to leave the country with as big of a bang as I could. I refused to feel anything that week, but excitement and adrenaline. Check it out yo...
I didn't think about money for a week. I didn't think about the lives that I could be giving it to. I didn't think about how I could invest my time for other people. I just thought about living it up for my last 10 days in a country that grew to feel like home. I was selfish, and I was OK with it. It even irritated me when people asked for favors, when my time was so limited. What became of me?
I was hosted by a kind gentlemen in South Australia for a few nights who volunteered with the organization I'd been able to donate strawberries to; I recorded a song I had written on the farm, with a friend in South Australia; I went skydiving; I cuddled with koalas and kangaroos, went wine tasting in the Barossa Valley, I surfed, I snorkeled, took a ship cruise to an island resort, fed wild dolphins, explored villages, saw the Sydney Harbor bridge and the opera house, hung out with French and Taiwanese backpacker friends. I only wish I could have made it to the great barrier reef.
I was hosted by a kind gentlemen in South Australia for a few nights who volunteered with the organization I'd been able to donate strawberries to; I recorded a song I had written on the farm, with a friend in South Australia; I went skydiving; I cuddled with koalas and kangaroos, went wine tasting in the Barossa Valley, I surfed, I snorkeled, took a ship cruise to an island resort, fed wild dolphins, explored villages, saw the Sydney Harbor bridge and the opera house, hung out with French and Taiwanese backpacker friends. I only wish I could have made it to the great barrier reef.
I refuse to believe I was on the farm just for the sake of extending a visa. The lessons I learned there I will carry with me the rest of my life. It was spoken over me many times while I was working, that I wasn't just there for money, or for a visa extension. I know this is true, and I cling to that truth for the sake of my sanity if nothing else. When my friend on the farm came to know Christ, I knew that every strawberry was worth it. These were my thoughts before I left, and I cling to them now. What was I willing to give up for the sake of the gospel? The realities even of missionary life became so real to me, and I so respect those on the mission field giving up their comfort and risking their lives for the sake of the gospel. And to think that those conditions I lived under, there are so many people in the world who still have it so much worse than I did. I now know the reality of the struggles to fight to live as a foreigner in a land that you love and wish to stay in, but dealing with the harsh treatment from the natives and the government. Americans, appreciate the mexicans who do the hard labour, and put yourselves in their shoes for a minute. They can't help the conditions they were born into. The reality is that we are SO privileged as a western nation, and we are SO lazy.
It's not enough to now know these things, but what will I do with this new knowledge and experience? I don't know yet, but there'll be something. Telling you about it is a start anyway.
It's not enough to now know these things, but what will I do with this new knowledge and experience? I don't know yet, but there'll be something. Telling you about it is a start anyway.
So I've disappeared for a bit. All my plans were changed like a rug pulled out from under my feet. I couldn't extend my visa. Don't make my mistake Americans, don't let the Australian government's confusing VISA website trick you..... Unlike other countries on a similar Working Holiday visa, us Americans get put on the Work and Holiday visa, in which you can't work on a farm to extend for one more year. When your year is up, you're out. Maybe it's because American's are known to be lazy butts and they don't want us working on their farms? I don't know, and it doesn't matter anymore. I felt extremely discriminated against, which makes me realize more what people in from other cultures experience every day.
So here I am, back in America unexpectedly. In another new place that I've never been, Williamsburg, Virginia - because my parents moved here when I moved to Australia. At a new cross-roads. Having my gifts taken away for that three months makes me value them all the more, and makes me more motivated now than ever. My body is healing, and my mind, soul, spirit are as well. I know that if I survived these things, doing big bold things with the rest of my life, in a culture that I'm familiar should be a piece of cake, right? I'm not making many plans yet, because there are many open doors all over the world, and I don't know what to choose yet, and I don't have the mind to decide yet. So I'm just healing, and being, and working, and creating, and God will let me know when the time is right.
I got a job at Starbucks 4 days after my insane 3 day long flight back to the states (that's a story in itself) and I have found new inspiration like never before, and I've been writing more music than I ever have before in this season.
Check out my latest.... I've discovered an awesome community of musicians online!
https://blend.io/project/54d8483211c63fdf560008a3
We have to go through the hardest times to find who we are, where we fit, and find our faith. I'd never been put into a situation where I was literally all alone in my faith before the farm. I was faced with the question, is my faith inside me? A part of me? Or is a my faith a product of having been planted in a Christian environment? Because if its a part of me, no matter where I go, God is with me. But if I simply take in my environment, then it'll change every where I go.
So I am just being with God, healing, and creating. And it's OK.
I hope your well. I'm getting there.
xx
Heidi
I got a job at Starbucks 4 days after my insane 3 day long flight back to the states (that's a story in itself) and I have found new inspiration like never before, and I've been writing more music than I ever have before in this season.
Check out my latest.... I've discovered an awesome community of musicians online!
https://blend.io/project/54d8483211c63fdf560008a3
We have to go through the hardest times to find who we are, where we fit, and find our faith. I'd never been put into a situation where I was literally all alone in my faith before the farm. I was faced with the question, is my faith inside me? A part of me? Or is a my faith a product of having been planted in a Christian environment? Because if its a part of me, no matter where I go, God is with me. But if I simply take in my environment, then it'll change every where I go.
So I am just being with God, healing, and creating. And it's OK.
I hope your well. I'm getting there.
xx
Heidi
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