American Woofer

I had a fantastic Spring Break. It was the first time I strongly considered staying in France longer. I want more than anything to go back to Annemasse and stay with the Beytrison Family and work on the farm. Today's class was optional and the only reason I went was so I could talk more/brag about my amazing Spring Break. No matter how much I miss my home/friends/family-it's even more rewarding/satisfying to discover the familiar within and admist the unfamiliar. Living with a family reminded me of how much I love my family. Working with the Earth reminded me of how beautiful life everywhere is. At times I felt even more distant than I do in Cannes because I didn't access a computer or phone. Returning back to Cannes, finally checking messages and getting caught up, showed me that all the time I was thinking of my friends and family they were also thinking of me. It is easy to go home, but difficult to stay, but thats only because I had no idea what to expect.

All I want to do is tell everyone about how great my week was- but I want to preserve its sacricity for myself by enjoying the mystery of how everything worked out so well. This happend to me.

When I first got off the train in Annemasse I was absolutely terrified- I had no idea where I was, who was picking us up, or how to talk to anyone to figure any of this out. Then we met the family: Français, the hospitable and herb knowning mom, Bernard, the strong quiet dad, and Ulysse, the 17yr old charming european teenager. My shyness and lack of knowledge of the French language had a firm old on me and it wasn't until sometime during the aukward small talk at the dining room table when I was sipping on my glass of later that I was able to actually say something worthwhile. I told a joke- in french- a lightbulb joke about blonds, next time you see me, ask me to tell you, and I will make you laugh. It was difficult to translate, and it might have been the longest I have ever talked to a French person all at one time, completely on the spot, pausing occassionally to either think of the word I wanted to use, or laugh at myself and the situation. When I was almost ot he punchline I thought to myself- why am I telling this joke- and I remembered because I'm trying to express myself to others (in another language). Laughter is often the best form of communication. I still don't know if the joke translate very well- but I think my new family understood the fact that I just wanted to spread some happiness and it was well recipicated.

My communications in French improved greatly this week. Granted I still said a lot of stupid shit. Part of my improvement came from necesity, but I think what made this week so much different compared to my other weeks in France was that I had a real emotional response to communicate. I wanted to tell others about how happy I was, how grateful I was, how I cared, how amazing others were. I had a lot to talk about on the farm with Bernard, Français, and Ulysse.

There was a Radiohead Poster in the room I was staying in, I wanted to steal it.
When I first met Bernard he was wearing overalls and was fixing the washing machine,

Mealtime was very important. The meals were leisurely and enjoyable although there was many aukward moments of not knowing the proper way to eat something or silences in the conversation. Meals are often finished with tea or coffee. Table manners are veyr important. The first night we had kir was homemade currant sryop, soup with crutons and grated cheese, then salad and potatoes. Then the FROMAGE!!! After every lunch and dinner Français would ask Ulysse to go to the basement and he would bring the circular cheese plate to the table. There was a variety of 5-8 cheeses each time. Legit cheese mind you. I can't even describe how delicious and awesome it was to try so many different types of cheeses. My favorite was Tomme. It also was Bernard's favorite. Throughout the week we also had organic wine. Bernard was skilled at opening the bottles with his firmly sculpted forearms.

Raclette is better than Fondue.

The first two nights dinner was interrupted with Candied, a cat, would escape the house and climb the big tree in the backyard only to get stuck and meow for help. The family would all race outside yelling at the cat. The ladder would be brought out. And the cat would be removed. Then all would return inside and resume the meal.

We worked every morning from 8:30 - 12:30. Lots of weeding. we had to pick out wild onions from the herbs, kinda like serfs, also worked inside sifting petals off of dried flowers, took breaks inside for tea. Thursday we drove for about an hour to a forest and gathered wild garlic leaves. We picked them at the base of the leaves to leave the bulbs underground so they could grow back. We put all the leaves on blankets and loading them in baskets in the car. Our hands smelt like garlic all day. Fresh garlic leaves are beautiful. It was fun to be with a group of French women working together out in the forest. There was a waterfall in the background and birds sang. I listened closely to the sound of the leaves breaking off the plants. Another day I used a big pitch fork like tool and uprooted a patch of dried up bushes.

The afternoons were mostly lazy. Listening to records, hiking along the river, walking into town, wandering.

chariots > shopping carts

We also went to Annecy, Geneve, and Chamonix Mt Blanc.

I have a lot more to say about the other vistitors that came to the house, dance party mania, and the beauty of the land.

Nature is real. I want to be a farmer.

It ain't coincidental that you are lost in place.