Newcastle - Australia Info

Newcastle - Australia

It was a shithole, that’s how bad it could be. Newcastle is without doubt the worst place I visited in Australia. For the second biggest town in New South Wales it left a lot to be desired. It was dirty, derelict, covered in graffiti and what little beach I found was covered in oil from the tankers that regularly made their way up and down the coast, to and from Sydney. As the train rattled through the town suburbs on the way into the station, I looked out the window in horror at the slagheaps of coal that lined the coast, only to see them being replaced by long abandoned buildings and houses in advanced stages of disrepair. It was dreadful. The train station was just around the corner from the hostel I had booked into. I made my way there in a matter of moments. Like the other buildings I'd seen, the hostel was quite run down looking at the outside -- although it has to be said that its state of disrepair was nowhere near as bad as some of the other buildings' nearby.
As I stood outside, looking around at the broken bottles and litter that lined the streets, I wondered if maybe I shouldn't just get back on the train and head on up the coast to Brisbane while I still had my life. Then I noticed something that made me laugh. There was a car parked near by. Stretched across its rear window was a sticker, and on this sticker was a slogan from Help the Aged in support of the local hospital. It summed up in only a few words just how important medical carers are to elderly people, and how much they're relied on by people in the autumn of their years to get them through the ordinary, everyday tasks the rest of us take so much for granted. “Nurses,” it said, “we can't shit without them.” Obviously some people in this town had a sense of humour; maybe I'd give the place a chance after all.
A girl wearing long dreadlocks and not much else staffed the hostel reception. As I stepped through the door she was flustering around the room trying to organise bed sheets for fifty odd Japanese who had arrived early; I hung back until the last of them had been served and was sent on their way, then I stepped brightly up to the desk. 'Hi.'
She looked up wearily at me from her seat, gave a little wave and breathed a greeting. 'G'day. I'll be with you in a minute mate, just let me get a few breaths first.' I was happy to stand watching her get a few breaths; considering her virtual state of undress it was most enjoyable. Finally she slapped her hands on the desk and sat bolt upright. I dragged my attention back to her face and gave her my name. She found it in the register and ticked it off. 'Ok, then that's fine. How long are you planing on staying with us?' 'Actually I don’t know. I'm going to try and get some work so I could be here for a while.' A smile broke out on her face; it wasn't one of joy either -- more along the lines of ridicule. 'Work -- you mean here, in Newcastle?'
'. . . Yeah.'
'Have you ever been to Newcastle before, mate?'
'No, first time. Why?'
'Why? Because it's famous for not having any work! I mean you must have seen the state of the town as you came in on the bus.' 'The train actually. Yes, but this is the second biggest town in New South Wales, right?' 'Well, yeah.'
'So surely there must be some kind of work here?'
She shook her head.
'Sorry, mate. I mean you can try, maybe you'll be lucky. But most people in Newcastle have to go to Sydney for work. There hasn't been any work around here for years.' I dropped my rucksack from my shoulder and let it fall heavily on the floor, then fought to find a suitable word to describe how I felt on hearing the news. 'Bollocks,' I said, toning my original choice down a bit.
She laughed, tucking a rogue dreadlock behind her ear.
'Things as bad as that?'
'Things are worse than that. I'll soon be down to my last dollar.'
I thought for a moment and rubbed my hands over my face to clear my head. There was no point in staying here if there was no work. Maybe the best thing to do would be to get back on the train and keep heading north. I mean there was bound to be work in Brisbane, right? I mentioned this to the girl; she shrugged. 'Yeah maybe. But you won't be able to leave here for a few days, though.' '. . . What do you mean?'
'Well, today's the start of Easter. Then it's ANZAC day. All busses and trains are full with holiday trippers until the start of next week. A couple of guys tried to leave here yesterday and were told that there was no room on anything out of Newcastle until Tuesday.' I listened to the news with horror.
'You mean I'm stuck here until Tuesday? In this hideous, dirty, godforsaken town? With no chance of work?' 'Fraid so, mate.'
I closed my eyes and sighed hard.
'Bollocks!'
She sat back in her seat and laughed again. I must have seemed like such a hard luck case. She eyed me thoughtfully for a moment then threw her pen onto the desk. 'Look, I'll tell you what. If you'll do a couple of hours work for me every day, I'll let you stay here for free. Nothing too stressful, just a bit of cleaning or a bit of security work. It's not much but it'll let you save a few dollars. What do you say?' 'I say show me the feather duster.'
'Well, we're a bit more advanced than that,' she grinned, shaking my hand and welcoming me to the hostel family. 'But. . . uh. . . only just!'
In spite of half of Tokyo arriving before me, there weren't that many others in the hostel. I was given a room in a dorm on the first floor, and for the moment I was the only one there -- although I knew that a couple of others would be arriving the following day. After dropping off my belongings I headed into the town for a bit of exploration.
Newcastle town centre was a bit cleaner than the rest of what I'd seen so far.
There was still a considerable amount of litter flapping wildly around in the wind, but at least here it wasn't enhanced with smudges of graffiti and coal dust. Like most town centres the same shops lined the high street, but as it was well after five o'clock by the time I had checked into the hostel they had all shut long ago. The lack of activity didn't improve my affection for the place, and when I searched in vain for even a corner store from which to buy a few groceries, but found none, I was on the verge of collecting my belongings and hijacking a train to take me to Brisbane. Instead I returned to the hostel dejected and hungry, searched my bags without luck for anything edible, then wandered aimlessly down to the TV room in the hope that one of the Japanese might throw me a fish if I was nice to them. Despite feigning whimpering noises and blatantly staring at their snacks, I wasn't even offered so much as a Tim Tam. Eventually I gave up and stomped off to bed, cursing.
I slept quite well but unlike my experience in Katoomba, when I awoke the next morning Newcastle was still shit. Having not eaten in over 24 hours I was now ravenous, and I stalked into the kitchen like the grim reaper, ready to prize the food from the mouths of anyone there with my fingers if no one offered me even a piece of toast. The kitchen was empty and I cursed loudly. It was still early (I had to be up at this time for my cleaning duties) and no shops would be open yet where I could buy some groceries of my own, either. Sighing, I resigned myself to even more hours without food and I trudged forlornly up to reception to be allocated my tasks, my stomach complaining bitterly with every step. In a cruel twist of fate my first job in the hostel was cleaning the kitchen. I collected a mop and a bucket, some cloths and a jar of metal polish from the laundry cupboard and let myself be guided towards it by the chewing sounds of the people now there. By now I was so hungry that I was gnawing at the handle of the mop, and as I waited for people to leave so that I could get on with my task, my eye developed a Chief-Inspector-Dreyfus- from-The-Pink-Panther-movies-like twitch every time I saw someone throw a half-eaten piece of toast into the bin. Eventually, after many minutes of torture, the last of the breakfasters left the kitchen and I slammed the door closed behind them. Maybe a spot of hard work would keep my mind off things.
It didn't, really. As I dusted around the shelves, my famine-like hunger crept up again and I began having insane, flashing visions of the food talking to me. Pots of jam taunted me with their sweet stickiness, laughing loud and inviting me to plunge a thumb in to steal a taste. Rice crackers crisped and crackled a soliloquy of temptation, daring me to munch on their flavoured dryness. I shook my head free of the mirage in an attempt to return to sanity, and moved across to wipe down the fridge.
Hunger can do strange things to a man. But visions were something I couldn't really deal with right now, so I decided I'd cleaned the kitchen well enough and, after dumping my equipment back in the cupboard, I headed into town to find anything to eat. Due to the still-early hour, the only place I found open was a newsagent's, so my forced fast was finally broken with two Cherry Ripe chocolate bars and a Golden Gaytime ice cream. But the way it made me feel as I ate them, a King's banquet couldn't have tasted any better.
Fed and watered, and now with a face covered in chocolate, I felt almost human again. It had been a close call but now that my energy stores were replenished I was ready to take whatever Newcastle threw at me -- and believe me, Newcastle threw its lot. There was still nowhere open. I wandered the streets for over two hours trying to find an Art Gallery or a Museum or even a Tourist Information Office -- anywhere that would let me pass some time without feeling like that bloke from the movie 28 Days Later. I couldn't believe that this was happening to me. I mean surely everyone wasn't in Sydney? Where were all the locals who didn't work? Where were all the kids on their Easter break? Where were all the retired people? Is there anybody out there? Obviously not; I couldn't find a single soul. Sighing miserably, I kicked my feet walking to the beach, where I sat on cold, damp, oily sand for the rest of the day giving myself piles. When it began to get dark I went back to the hostel and went to bed.
The rest of my stay in Newcastle amounted to the same, boring, tedious, mind-numbing routine every day -- I got up early, cleaned the kitchen for my keep, took a walk into the town to see if anywhere had opened -- nowhere ever did -- then shuffled miserably to the beach where I sat shivering, looking longingly out to sea, wishing I was anywhere else. When it got dark I went back to the hostel and went to bed. I was having such a great time in Newcastle.
Then one day Easter finished. It was a glorious moment for me as it meant I could now leave town. I must have looked the very image of salvation that morning as I walked into reception, grinning like the Cheshire Cat, and threw my keys onto the desk, happy to be finally free of this Antipodean Auschwitz.
At the bus station I marched straight to the ticket booth and without even waiting to be noticed, yelled across the counter to the man sitting reading at the back of the room: 'Give me a one way ticket out of here, please.'
He looked up from his newspaper, took off his glasses and walked across to his computer terminal. 'Where would you like to go, mate?'
I shrugged happily, giggling like a maniac:
'Anywhere. I don't care where. Just get me on the next bus out of here.'

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