Minchia & Maffra - 29/3/2014

 So it turns out Bega is actually the town where 

Bega cheese is manufactured, and we 

slept there. Who knew?

"Minchia" in Sicily, is how we say
"WANT TO FUCK!?"
- Lorenzo

Some context before you read on...

For those of you who do not know, my journey is with my father, Emmanuel Marshall, and is going to go over the course of the next three months, right up until July, with four main destinations. The first is Confest; a hippie festival in the bush. After confest, we are then heading west to Perth where we have plane tickets to Kuala Lumpur in Malasia, from where we will hitch north to Bangkok in Thailand, and I will fly back to Sydney. In my previous post I mentioned we were travelling to a town in Victoria called Maffra, but not why. Firstly (my motivation), Confest is being held just north of Melbourne this year, and we are presently quite well on the way there. The other reason, it fact the reason why Maffra was out primary and absolute destination at all was to meet up with my fathers current interest, a rather charming and eccentric woman from Quebec named Joanie. Having made it half way from  Nowra to Bega already, we were confident we'd make it to Maffra very quickly.

From where we left off last time...

Stunning view across what was actually quite literally filthy sewer water.

Waking up in a damp, misty, and shit covered meadow is actually quite pleasant. The air was fresh, and the view with the rising sun was actually quite magnificent, despite stepping in turds the size of my head efery other second. It was a rocky nights sleep,  but that's not to say either that it wasn't sufficient. Honestly, I had so much energy - my desire to be on the road definitely outweighed the desire to catch up on nap time - something I certainly never thought would happen when I was in Sydney.

We packed up our camp with moderate haste, then walked to the Princess Highway where we had been dropped off by different drivers the day before. We ate a bit of brekkie consisting of basil, bread and tomatoes from the night before's dumpster dive, then quickly got a ride with a rather quiet fellow with a long silver ponytail named Fraser, who worked at the Bega factory and lived in Eden, which was where he was headed. We went with.

 Packing up the campsite.

 A rather peculiar thistle. They were massive!

 Breakfast on the go is fine, but dental hygiene is everything.

Once in Eden, I purchased some deodorant, toothpaste and a couple other toiletries I'd absent-mindedly not packed and proceeded to meet dad up the hill. We decided to split up again, or "scissor" as hitchers call it, and see if we could get a ride that way. I walked for about 500 meters without luck, and found the edge of town. I started playing guitar, as I figured it would help me seem a little friendlier to people who might not have picked up dad. To my pleasant surprise however, the car that did pull over in the end had dad in the back seat. I stuffed my pack in the boot with dads and a bunch of others, and sat in the back too. I was immediately greeted warmly by two thick italian voices "Hello! Bongiorno". Their names were Gisseppe and Lorenzo, and they were going on a straight run to Melbourne to fly home to Sicily - what luck! We spent the trip laughing, singing, talking about culture, travel, life, the universe and everything, as well as educating one another on the topic of "how to swear in another language", hence "minchia"- they were an absolute pleasure, and they seemed fascinated by me and my father.

 Dad waiting for me in Eden after my little shop.

Guisseppe, dad, myself and Lorenzo on a three hour drive to Melbourne.

A big shared lunch at the servo.

We also made a few short stops - dad had a bit of wine the night before and his bladder didn't like that much.




When we got to Stratford, we were on the turnoff to Maffra. As great as the lift was in regards to distance and company, the car was a shitty rental and the seats were destroying our asses. we had to get out. Guisseppe and Lorenzo were kind enough to take us into town, but we'd honestly had enough of being squashed up. We popped by the shop for some chocolate, then headed to the other end of town. Jo was staying in a farmhouse on a street that wasn't on the map, so we set ourselves up to get a ride from one of the locals. I stuck out my thumb for each car that passed, and eventually an older gent pulled up. there was one problem though. It was a four seater car, but only the passenger seat at the front was up. "One of you can lie in the back. Dad accepted the offer and proceeded to the back door. Maybe he was trying to make sure I was comfy or something, or maybe he thought the same thing I did; "FUCK YES"

Long story short, aint nobody sit on da back o' da bus but ME!

The great thing was also that this guy took us right to the door, where Jo was fast asleep for us to wake up.

A cute reunion.

Best table in the world

The bloke Peter, who owns the place where we are all staying seems to get quite a few travelers coming through his place, and has had Jo and her friend Marie have been working as farm hands, milking cows and such. Anything I ever expected the place to look like on the inside, was nothing even remotely like this.

Jo feeding the goat with dad.

My turn!

The view from the porch.

Dad isn't happy with a normal bed, even though I saw one in side with SPIDERMAN BED SHEETS!

Relaxing...

Quebec-style fries with gravy and cheese for dinner... yuuuuuuuummy.

Jo preparing the days hunt, with potatoes I 

have reason to suspect are also from the bin, 

because they were DAMN GOOD!

The lovely Marie joins the fun, showing of the 

patriotism that went into this meal.

Not sure what happened to my flag...

And that is all for now folks! Three days, and already I feel like I've been doing this forever! I miss you all so much, and I will bring you all up to date in a few weeks when I have internet again and I can tell you all about my next adventure...

...CONFEST...

(Insert chilling horror music here)