Last weekend we rode bikes to a lake about 15 km from our farm. The ride was terribly difficult for both of us because French bikes never seem to be tall enough for our long legs, so although our seats were up as high as they could go, we still had to work really hard to get the bikes up some really mild hills. We finally got to the lake and were feeling a bit cranky from the tough ride, and we felt even crankier when we had to sit in really bug-infested grass near the muddy bank. The water was too cold to swim, and we just weren't really feeling the lake. After less than an hour, we got up to leave, but we were accosted by a very enthusiastic labrador retriever. As we were greeting the dog, his owners strolled up. We were delighted to hear a jolly English lilt to their voices, and quickly established one of those friendships that is solely based on the fact that a native language is shared between people. The couple-The Steers-are in their early 50's, and after having lived in England and Scotland for most of their lives, they moved to the South of France. They were such nice people and invited us to hear them sing some traditional Irish songs at a bar in a nearby village later that week. We were so drunk on English that we couldn't think of much else all week.
Which gets me to my next point. Although our language skills are definitely improving here, it is definitely at the expense of our morale. The personalities of our hosts are becoming much more clear, and sometimes I find myself with a terrible lack of enthusiasm when it comes to speaking French, and as a result, I find myself really not desiring to do much work here. The problem stems from the fact that Dominique is a very abrasive, fast-paced individual, and Derek and I are much more laid-back and slow-moving. That doesn't mean that we are lazy, but we just don't natually move about at break-neck speed. She stresses us out on a very natural basis with her quickness and vigor. She isn't really a gentle person, and she isn't too worried about hurting one's body or one's feelings. She almost threw me into a tractor when I was helping her roll a decorative wagon out of the way yesterday, and when she saw how irritated I was about that, she replied (in French of course) "Don't worry! You didn't get run over!" I wasn't actually worried that I had been run over. I was worried that I was going to take a swing at her head with a sledge hammer. She speaks incredibly quickly, and with a thick Toulousian accent, and it isn't a rare occasion that we don't understand. It is a very frequent occasion that I do understand, but I just don't have the energy to respond. I feel that my intellect is very misrepresented by my discouraged, apathetic attempts at French conversation with her. She thinks I'm quite a numbskull, and it really just eats away at me. She has almost made me cry at two dinners by just being too abrasive with me when I can't fully express/defend myself in her language. She is rough with Derek too, but he is less sensitive than I am, and he also understands less of her words when she's being difficult, so he has dealt better. Cyril, though, has been an absolute saint about our language gap. He will spend all day rephrasing things so we can really understand him, and he is very generous and open in our conversations. He speaks very slowly and with great hand gestures so that we can understand him better. He smiles at our mistakes and doesn't expect too much. I'm very glad that he is here.
We aren't learning very much on this farm. We learned a ton at La Petite Mane, but this one has been mostly full of busy work that we aren't sure about. We don't understand the function of much of our labor, like why we are stripping ferns of their leaves and putting the leaves under the cabbage plants. It isn't very hard work, and it isn't bad, but we just want to know why we are spending our hours doing that. One time, Dominique thought that I wasn't being quick enough in stripping the ferns, so she literally pulled the glove off of my hand, put it on her own hand, and showed me a faster way to do it. I was so appalled that the glove had been ripped off of my fingers that I said, "Oh, d'accord," and went right back to what I had been doing. I am really passive sometimes, but I'm a stubborn one, too.
I don't want to act like everything is terrible here. It really isn't. We're still having a good time and eating so well that I can't even see straight. I'm experiencing a very funny occurrance here before meals. We eat lunch between 1-2, and we eat dinner between 9-10. About 20 minutes to half an hour before the meal, I'll usually lay down on my bed and close my eyes to rest. I don't usually fall asleep, but I'll be in that weird in-between state. Well, I get really hungry here. I mean, I'm like shaking starving by the time I get to the table. So when I lay down, something primal switches in my brain and I can't think about anything but food. You know how sometimes you'll be almost asleep and then you fall in a hole and jump awake? Well, I will be lying there imagining that I'm about to put a fork full of food to my mouth, but then it falls in my lap, and I jump awake. Usually I've drooled all over my pillow. Sometimes I am still mostly awake, and I catch myself taking bites of air. It always makes me laugh, but I'm so hungry that I don't want to do anything but think about food.
When Thursday rolled around, Derek and I were pretty desperate to get away from the farm for a little while and we called our new British friends to see if they could pick us up before their concert. They could, and we went. They were both wonderful singers, and such great people to be around. We had a great time. Here is a picture of them performing, although neither of their heads are very visible.
As I mentioned in my last post, the 14th was a huge party at the farm. Everyone has been super stressed to get everything together and planned for it, and the phone has been ringing off the hook. There were 104 people at the party. Derek and I slept in a tent last night because guests needed our room, and I didn't fall asleep until the music died down around 5 AM. Then the rooster and various animals woke us both up every 20 minutes or so until we finally gave up on sleep around 10. At the party, they roasted a whole pig and a whole sheep on sticks. Here are the headless corpses spinning over the coals without a shred of dignity. Yum?
Here is a picture that was supposed to show the Crimmas lights, but it really didn't capture the ambiance. The house looked very nice!
Anyway, today we were back in our room, practicing music, when an American girl knocked on our door. Her name is Brenny, and she is from Oregon. She is wwoofing about an hour away, and for some reason or other, her host stopped to talk to Dominique and Cyril. She was going to make Elderberry syrup not far from our place, and her host invited us to go with them. We jumped at the chance to leave the farm, so we went. The other farm was having an open day for people to learn how to make the syrup and help them make it. Here are a lot of people separating the elderberries from the stems.
This farm is about 3 km from ours. To our absolute delight, we met the resident wwoofers, who are a couple of Floridians! Their farm is a permaculture farm, which is a concept I am learning to understand. They work very hard to acheive a balance between the plants so that they protect and nourish each other, and there isn't so much work involved for the farmers. Andy showed us a crazy variety of edible weeds and flowers. Here are some pictures of us at that farm.
Finally, and another cause of our lack of sleep lately, is Tita. She is our new puppy! She has blue eyes, but she was too busy sleeping to look up for a picture. I actually named her. Dominique wanted to call her Tic-Tac, but Cyril didn't like it (and neither did I). I suggested Tita because it sounded similar and it was the name of a main character in a magic realism book I recently read, and they liked it! It isn't my best naming work, but it is better than Tic-Tac.
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