Cardwell

I have now been here in Cardwell for three days. It is a tiny little town that doesn't offer much activity, but it is surrounded by some of the most beautiful scenery I've ever seen. It is sandwiched between the ocean, in view of the nearby Hitchinbrook Island, and dense rainforested mountains stretching North and South as far as the eyes can see. Both are teasing me at the moment, because I am here primarily to work with prawns; I'm a prawnin' man now.

We wake up and six, go for a jog and watch the sunrise over Hitchinbrook Island, stretch, suck down coffee and toast, then hop into Sandy for our trip to the prawn farm.

Once at the farm, we put on a long sleeve shirt, followed by a white lab coat. We then put on our socks, then plastic sock covers, followed by big rubber gumboots. On our hands, we wear cotton gloves to keep our hands warm while handing the freezing cold prawns and protect us from prawns' sharp noses. On top of these gloves, we wear rubber gloves and some plastic sleeve covers. We wear all this with a white hairnet on top. The final look is of some brain-covered surgeon. I've happily dubbed myself Dr. Prawn.

Our job is simple, but crucial to the prawn processing operation. We take the prawn, rip off the head, being sure to remove all the brain. Next, we place our thumbs on the underside of the prawn, crack the first half of the shell with an upward movement of the thumb, do the same for the back half, then remove the shell and legs in one quick movement. It is imperative to make sure the tail and last segment of the shell remain intact. It sounds very simple, but is actually quite tricky. It took me nearly three days to finally get it down. The prawns are very cold; they just sit in a pool of ice. Sometimes the shell is hard and comes off easily, but most of the time, the shell is more like a slippery soft skin, resistant to all attempts at removal. We spend eight hours doing only this and cleaning. Thankfully we are allowed one ear of headphones for music and can talk to our fellow work friends while we conduct this mindless work.

On our first day, we just sang songs and merrily tried to figure out how to get the dang shells off. Hanani is having some trouble, given his disgust and complete lack of experience with all things prawn. At some point, we all broke out into a wonderful rendition of "Hava Nagila", complete with dancing. After a couple of minutes of this, Hanani dropped his smile and his prawn and uttered, "I think God shall strike me dead this very minute."

I quite enjoy it; it is meditative, pays well, is actually quite fun, and most importantly not in Cairns. The four of us all agree that Cairns is a bad place for the soul. All of us as happy for the relocation and happy to be making some money. With Easter coming up, we have a four day weekend to tour the many nearby rainforests and waterfalls. I can't imagine anything I'd rather do in this paradise than hike and camp for four days.