Tuesday, March 13, 2012

WWOOFing in France

It stands for Worldwide Opportunities on Organic Farms, WWOOF.  It's a dumb acronym. I know, but the idea is genius. Basically it's a type of unconventional bartering where travelers can exchange work on farms for food and lodging. That's the basic idea.  For more information, take the link below.


           I've been here for less than 24 hours now and my mind is already on fire.  I'm trying with all my might to learn the language as quickly as possible. The family i'm staying with is comprised of two parents and four kids, though i use kids loosely.  The parents are in their mid 50's and their four children are aged 28, 25, 23 and 15: 2 boys and 2 girls.  Anyway, i've only met the girls so far and they both seem very nice; both quite reserved.  The youngest even went as far as whispering around me, ha, understandable though seeing how I'm new and in her home it made sense. On the other hand, the elder of the two girls has been incredibly helpful already. She studied English for a bit in high school and I feel like she already gotten her money's worth out of her English education. ha. I've been able to rely on her in times of dire need which thankfully hasn't been as often as I'd guessed. She was also able to help me with some phrases and I got to pick her brain about grammar and vocabulary.  

As soon as I arrived, I mumbled, probably in broken French, to Valerie, the mother, that I had no intention of speaking English and was hoping that I would be able to learn French from her and her family. Well, by the end of three or four sentences from either side, we had hit an impasse. I was making a lot of "eu" and "eh" noises (not the normal "uhs" and "ums"- Le French say eu instead) and she quietly focused more on her driving, though somehow we made it work.  I was able to make due with what little French I really do know and she was able to twist her vocabulary into words i could understand.  With her, that's how its been all day.  The father is no better. He speaks too rapidly for me to hear and then when I finally do figure out what's been said, it's something negative, or at least uninformed about Americans. ha.  Hopefully I'll be able to understand by the end. 
Thankfully, it hasn't been that rough all day though.  After my train ride from Lille into the country side, we drove a little further into the country and reached out destination, an old two story farm house. Valerie showed me my room and gave me a tour of the house. It's quite nice, everything I will need: warm shower, clean bed, space to unpack for the three weeks I'll be here. Then she took me on a tour of the back yard and kinda told me what i'll be doing here.

I'll be working in an organic garden. It's not really a farm.  They have about six thousand square feet of land purely devoted to the growing of strawberries, kiwis, apples, pears,  currants, flowers, tomatoes, beans, and various herbs and spices, all of which get used in her everyday cooking.  Pretty cool. 

I don't know exactly what i'll be doing at this point because while she was explaining her garden, my lethargic mind began to wander and her words began to weave and blur together.  Suffice it to say, I have no idea what i'll be doing tomorrow. I could be planting onions or chopping wood.  ... no idea.  ha - but that's part of the beauty of it, right? - at least that's what i keep telling myself. 

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