Woofing

Woofing, or wwoofing, is working through World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms (there have been a couple of different names for this group, but this is its current iteration). You live with a family, get free food and board, and work with them on their farms. The hope is that you both gain culturally and socially, as well as learn more about farming techniques of the specific location you have chosen.

As this is my first experience, I'm unable to generalize, but it has been lovely to have been accepted into the family, and to learn how an actual beekeeper works. I don't ever want to be a professional beekeeper, but the thought of owning a single hive on a large property hasn't as yet deserted me.

In the evenings, we've gotten to participate in the lives of the family. Manon (10) had a clarinet concert and an end of year "spectacle" in which the children of the school she goes to put on a circus for parents and friends. We also went out as a family after the concert for celebratory drinks in Mirepoix, the big smoke, close to Tréziers (which really is a pretty tiny, still very medieval looking town). On quieter days we've spent evenings at home watching movies (I now can understand and watch a full French movie as long as the subtitles--in French--are on), reading stories, or just talking and having endless cups of herbal tea. This family is vegetarian, eating solely organic foods. They don't have alcohol or coffee or even black tea in the house. Honey is used almost solely in place of sugar (as you'd imagine, I guess). It's an interesting experience, and probably great for my body, but I do miss my cup of black tea in the morning. (Postnote: the other woofer, Alan, had a stash of black tea, so now I'm golden).

In addition to experiences with the family, Alan (the other woofer, who is from Brittany in France) and I  have been able to get out and about a little and visit the surrounds. We explored more of Mirepoix one day, wandered by a nearby lake, and went out for dinner one night at a questionable restaurant (the fact that the place smelled like cats should have tipped us off, but before the night was out I think we saw four different cats--not really what I want to see in a eating establishment).

More adventures to come, I'm sure.

Beekeeper here we go?

On arrival at the bee farm, I was met by Louna and Manon, the daughters of Dany and Stephanie, my hosts. Dany was out helping a friend in the construction of his house, and Stephanie and their other Woofer, Alan, were at the bee hives. So, Louna and Manon helped me to move in, and we played a 20 questions game in French . . . Am I a vegetable? Am I an object, etc. Already I could see how quickly my french would have to (and be able to) improve in the coming weeks. The two girls also gave me a tour of the farm, where I met the chickens, fish, horses, dog, and of course saw the bee laboratory and toured the vegetable gardens. Within the first week of arriving, a chicken and its chick had been spirited off, probably by a fox. So, it's an interesting view into the lives and troubles of farmers. Poor Manon was very upset by her missing chick and chicken.These are them just the day before.

This is the view from the window of my room. Beautiful to wake up to.

The first day I worked was just spent on the farm, and in the laboratory. I used giant vats to fill glass jars of honey.

We sorted impurities from pollen (apparently pollen is sold for use on salads).

And we extracted royal jelly for use as a high-end holistic medicine. Interesting to think that there are so many other byproducts that can be produced when making honey.

The second day I went out to the hives. I didn't take any pictures of this, but will have to get one in full garb at some point during my stay. It was quite a learning experience I must say. I really enjoyed it for the most part. We were checking on the hives and noting how far along each was in the process. Only negative, was that we came across a hive that was a bit stirred up, and my ankles were stung four times. Ow. Seems I needed higher boots, or thicker socks to go with my full beekeeper suit. Well, the experiences we seek, I guess. One tip to note, if there are others interested in doing something like this, bees are easiest to manage in very hot weather, because they are off working in the fields. This means that the hives are much less full, and easier to handle. If I were to do this again, I think I'd choose to pick late July as a time to learn, because in June the weather is still quite variable day-to-day.

Busy busy bees and local cures for bee stings.

Well, this teaches me to consult topographic maps instead of just looking at road maps. On the way to the bee farm, I decided to cut a little time and take the train a wee ways, so that I could get there quicker. I could either take it to Castelnaudry, or Pamiers, and as Castelnaudry was North of Tréziers (where I'm staying) and Pamiers was West, I went with Castelnaudry. I chose this route because up until now, most of the hills have been the result of a tributary system originating from the Pyrenees, hence if you go East-West there are lots of ups and downs, and if you go North-South, there is usually more of a gradual incline. So, without looking at a proper map, I chose Castelnaudry and got on a train. Just outside of Castelnaudry, in-between the town and where I wanted to go, is a ridge that hits 400m high (in general I've been trying not to go higher than 250). I had used up much of my water and most of my energy by the time I reached the top. It didn't help that it was a beautifully hot day.

However, once over that hump, the ride was beautiful.

Close to arriving, I stopped to put on some more sunscreen beneath the shade of a tree, and suddenly a handful of angry bees descended on me. Having never had this happen before, I panicked, thinking the whole hive was attacking, and dropped my bicycle and ran up the street. Only one succeeded, but ow--the ear is not where you want to get a bee sting.

I went back for my bike, and walked it a ways up the street. I stopped the next car, to ask them to look at it to make sure that the stinger was out, and it was two lovely ladies. I then was given an antihistamine, and they filled my water bottle. They also showed me a type of ground cover that you can use the leaf as a poultice over a bee sting, and then, using both French and gestures to convey their knowledge, they informed me that if it got really bad, I should pee into a cup and pour that over myself. The woman apparently had had a bad bee sting once far from people, and her friend had had to pee on the top of her head. Hmm. This really is bee country, isn't it. Doesn't bode well for my experiences on the farm.

And on goes the journey.

I decided instead of taking the train that I would bike from Biarritz to Toulouse (now that I have achieved the Amsterdam to Paris plan, I no longer feel tied to bicycling the whole year). This was perhaps folly, as these really are still the foothills of the Pyrenees, even if they are low elevation, there are constant hills interspersed with rivers making for many ups and just as many downs. I try my best to appreciate the downs, but really, I am thinking that however much elevation I'm losing, I then have to gain back again. It's interesting that in life we use the opposite wording--talking about the ups and downs--than with my biking. Perhaps some of the lessons learned translate in reverse. In life, try to appreciate the ups as much as you can, because there will be downs, and during the downs, realize that not too far off there will be an up. Or some such happy moral.

Here are some of the things that make up for those hills:

Picturesque rest stops

A campground on a kiwi farm. I realized I've never seen kiwis grown. Strange, but true.

Yes, that is my giant mess in my tent and lots of lovely food :) some things never change.

Solar-powered sheds/cottages.

Watching Ted Talks in campground bathrooms while it rains, and gathering the strange looks from other camp-goers. Also, I now have something to say on almost every topic, although no real knowledge to back it up. And because I can't remember names and details, I'm just useless: "there's this thing, I saw on a Ted Talk, where you can grow packaging out of mushrooms to eliminate the need for styrofoam" . . . and that said in my minimal French is completely ridiculous.

Getting to see the sunflowers turn from just open to fully open, and bike through fields of them with a giant grin on my face.

Watching kayak polo (my current campground is hosting the teams). That sport looks ridiculously difficult and vicious.

A great decision in the end, although my muscles hurt quite a bit. And from there I go off to a bee farm. Wish me luck and no bee stings! (postnote: I wrote this a few days ago, and have since arrived--only one bee sting so far).

The foothills of the Pyrenees

St Jean Pied de Port is one of the main towns that funnels pilgrims across the Pyrenees. Sarah and I took a day trip here, to the beautiful Pyrenees foothills, and stayed in a lovely bed and breakfast. A citadel was at the center of the village, and the main part of the village was fortified by an encircling wall.

 We arrived right at high-time for all of the pilgrims to arrive and bed down for the night. It got quite busy for awhile there, although in the morning it was perfectly silent and deserted again.

We didn't do much here except walk and eat and look, but we did meet several lovely people. Among these people were a New Zealander and her Australian husband. And as Facebook delivers my news more quickly than my blogging does, this story may be old to many of you. However, this 65 year old couple was doing a 2-3 month long pilgrimage, walking from the Mediterranean to the Atlantic. When Sarah asked them what inspired them to do this trip, the New Zealand woman said slowly but earnestly "We've always liked to walk, we just thought we'd go on a long walk" . . . classic stoic understated New Zealand. Made me laugh and miss home like nothing else. Below is a picture of them strolling off on the next day of their walk :)

First Job in France

We used Biarritz as a jumping off point for some of the villages nearby, both further down the coast, and into the foothills of the Pyrenees. The first location we went to was St. Jean de Luz. It was a beautiful seaside town, with a wide bay and a lighthouse out on a point.



I decided to do some drawing of the old buildings in the area, and Sarah read her book. It wasn't the best location for drawing, as it was along the sea wall, and gathered quite a bit of traffic. I find it distracting when people come and look over my shoulder. However, it led to interesting things, because while I was sitting and drawing, a woman and her small child walked past. The little girl seemed very shy, but also very interested in what I was doing. Later, the same girl and her father came back and asked me if I'd draw their house (they were vacationing there, and wanted a souvenir of the stay). How could I say no? So, I said yes on the condition of coffee, because we had just been packing up to go to a cafe, and so found myself drawing this house. The lovely people brought coffee and cookies out on a tray, and later brought us a bottle of wine to say thank you. I drew the house with the little girl and her littler brother standing in front. The best part (other than cookies, coffee, and wine) was that the girl and her little brother got out their pens and pencils and drew, too. I didn't get a chance to see what they'd created (I didn't want to make them even more shy) . . . but it's just wonderful that what I was doing sparked them to do some art.

So, Sarah and I were pretty starving at this point, and decided to go get some dinner, splurging for the first time on our trip and getting a lovely spread of Basque fare, predominantly seafood with heavy sauces. A great taste of a different area's cuisine.

To finish a wonderful day, we took our acquired bottle of wine to the lighthouse, where we watched the sunset over the ocean and the little village. A beautiful evening. 

And to work off some of those Basque sauces, we had a quick jog/run through the village as we realized that we had to only a handful of minutes to catch the last train of the evening. We skidded on board just as the whistle was blowing, without even enough time to find our correct car. So, we ended up crashing a picnic that two musicians were having in the hallway (we're pretty sure they were hitching a ride hobo-style). But we got back to Biarritz and it all worked out.

Surfing

Sarah and I decided that to have a true holiday, we needed to go to the beach or go wine tasting in the country or some such thing (Sarah had to return to the States to start her residency program, so she really legitimately could talk about needing a holiday). We hopped on a train, all the while planning to go to Bordeaux, but somehow ended up staying on (legitimately--we paid) and going all the way to Biarritz, for surf lessons.

Biarritz is just about as close as you get to Spain while still being in France. It's in the Basque region of France, and definitely has a different flavor to the Northern area of France that I spent time in.

Sarah and I arrived that night, and as will happen when you hang out with Sarah, we decided to go jump in the ocean. We'd picked up an Australian along the way, Andy, who was biking the Pyrenees, and Juan, a French/Mexican working at the Venezuelan embassy in Paris, in Biarritz on holiday.  The four of us went down to the beach and did the necessary jump into the water and run (it isn't quite summer yet). Having fulfilled our obligations, we decided to leave actual swimming for daylight and warmer times. Look Janet, your headtorch was so helpful!

The next day was lovely, so Sarah and I decided to take surf lessons. Clemont, our instructor, spoke only French to us, so suffice to say I didn't catch many of the instructions. It's hard enough for me to comprehend spoken French when we're in a quiet location face-to-face etc. However, apparently this was just fine, because I did much better than the last time I took surfing lessons back home. Nothing spectacular, but I did stand up, if quite wobbly, several times. Sarah was even better, although I think she was both better and worse. She had some spectacular wipe-outs :) Oh, about the only thing I really understood was "attend! attend! attend!" or "wait! wait! wait!" apparently I got too excited and wanted to start going too early for each wave. I have flashbacks to Salsa lessons and the instructor yelling "submit!" when I tried to guess what move he was going to do, and guessed wrong. I guess it's in my nature to go just slightly too quickly--headstrong.