Wwoofer Excursions to Toulouse

My first excursion into Toulouse as a wwoofer came as a surprise. For three days, Nigel and Renée's son, Adrienne, and his band (Kassla Datcha) were on the farm, practicing. On their last day on the farm, the violinist, Myriam, offered to have me up for the night in Toulouse so that I could come watch Adrienne and Simon play (Clarinet and Accordion) at a bar in the city. I took her up on the offer, and in we went. It was a beautiful night, and the bar seems to be the French version of Cheers for the 8 members of Kassla Datcha and their friends. No matter which way you looked, more people were greeting each other and talking as if they'd known each other for years. 


I met a ton of people that night, and even got offered a random job working at an ice skating rink. Fascinating people, it was really nice to get to know some locals. Not the least from that night, I learned a lot about hospitality. Myriam was such a gracious host, letting me stay in her quite small apartment, and even getting up at 7am (after we went to bed at 2:30) to cycle with me all the way to the train station. I hope the next time I have a home to offer, that I'm as great a host as she was.

When a new set of wwoofers joined me in the cabane (meet Beth and Paul), we ended up spending two Sundays in a row in Toulouse. The Toulouse Plage (aforementioned in this blog) had tons of free things to do for young people and families, and we had heard that there was salsa in the park. We got the time wrong, however, and so were there far too early . . . which was a happy mistake, because it meant that we went and checked out the ludotheque (game library) and played Settlers of Catan in French. Fantastic.

We also celebrated one day by going out for dinner . . . 

And the salsa in the park really was as great as we'd thought it would be. Can't wait to dance with you two again sometime. Thanks for a fantastic couple of weeks!

Playtime, wwoofing style.

Many night times were spent at the farm cooking, singing, or sitting around talking.

One night Paul lead us all in cooking gnocchi, along with Nigel and Renée's daughter, Céline, and her two friends from university. I made a gigantic apple pie with Beth, which I managed to slightly burn while helping out with the Gnocchi . . . it was still fairly decent, though.

Nigel plays a mean guitar and accordion. Singalongs were always led by him and more than appreciated by everyone else.

Here's a quick and dirty (sans accents and probably sometimes wrongly inferred artists from youtube, as I only have the song names) list of Nigel's French/Spanish/Beatles heavy singalong songs.

Nigel’s Singalong List:

Armstrong (Claude Nougaro)
Rock Me Momma/Wagon Wheel (Bob Dylan)
Je m’voyais deja (Charles Aznavour)
Le p’tit bal perdu (C’etait bien) (Bourvil)
La Tendresse (Bourvil)
Salade de fruits (Bourvil)
Le Tourbillon (Jeanne Moreau)
Trois petites notes de musique (Henri Colpi, Georges Delerue)
L’Encre de tes yeux (Francis Cabrel)
La Marine (Brassens)
Quand je serai K.O. (Alain Souchon)
Bikini (Brian Hyland--but translated into French)
L’Amerique (Joe Dassin)
Emmenez-moi (Charles Aznavour)
Le Meteque (Georges Moustaki)
Le Galerien (Maurce Druon et Leo Paul)
L’etranger (Edith Piaf)
Donne du Rhum (Georges Moustaki)
Les Feuilles Mortes (Jacques Prevert)
Le Temps des Cerises (Jean-Baptiste Clément et Antoine Renard)
Il est trop tard (Georges Moustaki)
I'm Only Sleeping (Beatles)
I'm So Tired (Beatles)
I Want to Hold Your Hand (Beatles)
I Will (Beatles)
Love Me Do (Beatles)
La complainte du Phoque en Alaska (Michel Rivard)
Je me suis fait tout petit (George Brassens)
Belle Ile en Mer (Laurent Voulzy)
Les Couleurs du Temps (Guy Béart)
Couleur Café (Serge Gainsbourg)
Quand on se promene au bord de l’eau (Jean Gabin)
Siffler sur la Colline (Joe Dassin)
All You Need Is Love (Beatles)
Let It Be (Beatles)
Hey Jude (Beatles)
Norwegian Wood (Beatles)
Blackbird (Beatles)
All you need is love (Beatles)
Help (Beatles)
Education Sentimentale (Maxime le Forestier)
Il faut que je m’en aille (Graeme Allwright)
Ecoute dans le vent (Bob Dylan)
Sacree Bouteille(Graeme Allwright)
Tous les garcons et les filles (Francoise Hardy)
La Chanson de Prevert (Serge Gainsbourg)
La Javanaise (Serge Gainsbourg)
Complainte de la Butte (Rufus Wainwright)
La Java Bleue (Frehel)
Chanson pour ‘Auvergnat (Georges Brassens)
Mon amant de st jean (Edith Piaf)
Le temps du muguet (Francis Lemarque)
Les Champs-Elysees (Joe Dassin)
Les amoureux des bancs publiques (Georges Brassens)
Desaparecido (Manu Chao)
Clandestino (Manu Chao)
Hasta Siempre (Nathalie Cardone)
La Princesse et le Croque-notes (Georges Brassens)
Embrasse-les tous (Georges Brassens)
Mourir pour des idees (Georges Brassens)
Le Joueur de fluteau (Georges Brassens)

For four nights in a row it was the village fete in Lagardelle. At nights we could hear music coming from the village, and one night we decided to go along and join in. They had fireworks, accompanied by a melange of 80s rock ballads, and then this amazing band, which was actually pretty horrific, but such a train wreck it was so fun to watch. From Katie Perry to I don't know what, they danced their way through, singing as if they were the rockstars they imagined. We lasted quite some time just on the amazement on how terrible it was, before deciding it was time to make our way back in the dark to the farm. Particular dance moves will remain burned into my retinas for years to come.

Bienvenue à la ferme... pour la deuxième fois

 My second wwoofing experience, now back in France, I went to live and work on a small fruit and vegetable farm. Situated 25 kilometers south of Toulouse, Renée and Nigel's farm is a small organic (obviously) farm that supports a CSA with 25 boxes of produce, weekly. During the summer months they have between 1-3 wwoofers at any given time, and they (we wwoofers) live off in a cabin to the side of the main house. Today's post will be a quick tour of the location, just to set the scene.

Here's la cabane. . . a strawbale building, with a comfortable rustic feel. Somewhat uncompleted, it still managed to be a lovely home for a month.

Off to the side of the cabane was a lovely veranda with grapevines, where many a night of food, laughter, drinks, charades and shenanigans were to be had. You can just see the table peeking through the grapevines below.

We were also lucky enough to have a partially constructed ecologically friendly swimming pool. Not yet a fully functioning plant-filtered swimming pool, Nigel had to empty and re-fill it every few weeks in order to not get overrun with algae. Check out the working cinderblock/plank diving board! There were a few encounters with creatures--frogs, tadpoles, these incredible tiny spinning creatures, and a possible nighttime encounter with a mouse, but lovely after a hot day's work on the farm (minus the possible mouse). Luckily no encounters were had with the wild boars that got into the rows of carrots and leeks, invading from the nearby reserve.

The farm grew spinach, lettuce, carrots, leeks, white and red onions, broccoli, cabbage, Chinese cabbage, green and yellow courgettes (zucchini), white, purple and globe aubergines (eggplant), squash/pumpkins of many kinds (we never did try cooking those pomme d'or), potatoes, turnips, beetroot, grape vines (mostly not yet bearing fruit), a whole variety of heirloom tomatoes and cherry tomatoes (favourite being Mexican Honey cherries, and least being the noires), green peppers and hot peppers, apples, peaches, plums of several varieties, rhubarb, fennel, basil, and various other things. Did I forget any obvious ones, fellow wwoofers?

For our part on the farm, we cleared new ground, formed new beds, composted, sowed seeds, planted plants, weeded rows, picked produce, boxed/bagged and weighed items for the CSA, cleaned greenhouses, sorted farming supplies, etc. One evening we got to go to where the folk from the CSA pick up their produce. It was a really nice addition, in that each person came to select their produce, so you physically got to see people enjoying the fruit of your labour. Not only that, but each week two people were designated to bring wine and snacks, so people hung around chatting, drinking, and eating. This made it a much more human experience than that of the CSA I participated in the States, where I never saw another person, and just picked up my box of produce from the loading bay at National Geographic.

Farming things I learned:
* Sometimes you have to be very careful, other times, not so much
* Efficiency is key . . . I can't make everything perfect and beautiful
* Some seeds have clay covers for protection, and they look like sprinkles for cakes, but probably don't taste like them
* All those straight lines I drew in graphics class and all that measuring I do for illustrations is very important and helpful for having a good "eye" when creating new beds for plantings and when actually planting plants
* Some lightweight tools are amazing, and I will never have a large garden without them (what is the French word, sarcleur?)
* I don't like weeding fennel, but most other things are fine.
* It's all about the compost.

In the house we helped to prepare foods, wash dishes, set tables, cook, and generally help out. It was pretty fabulous (although mildly terrifying) as Renée is a retired chef, and suddenly I found myself reduced to something like a 16-year old with no culinary knowledge whatsoever, and perfectly able to fail in all sorts of menial tasks. For some reason, the pressure also caused me to drop just about anything I was holding when in Renée's presence . . . suffice to say I was a mess. Despite this, I learned some fabulous new recipes, and am interested to expand into all sorts of new ground once I stop cooking on a camp gas stove and actually have something to work with.

And last, but not least whatsoever, we emptied and cleaned dry toilets. My least favourite job on the farm--as I can bet a few of my friends would guess. Fortunately for you, I took no pictures of that particular task. But, task completed, I realized that I can actually accomplish that, despite squeamishness . . . which leads me to believe that I can actually do anything if I put my mind to it. 

Day two in Cappadocia: Exploring the underground

Day two, my compatriots had decided to go dawn air ballooning. I, in a fit of romanticism, decided to save air ballooning for another day . . . thinking that it might be nice to have a few things up my sleeve to look forward to. But, nobody said I couldn't get up and watch, so at 5:15am my alarm went off, and I was off trekking up the hill to find a good location to hopefully watch my friends come over the horizon, bringing the morning sun with them. Three large stray dogs decided to accompany me, and I warily enjoyed their presence, so long as they kept their distance.  Not only did my friends arrive (I presume--it was hard to see more than large patterns on the balloons) . . . but dozens of balloons filled the sky, lit pink with early morning rays. Mount Erciyes also looked beautiful, pale purple in the distance.

After sitting on the hilltop, enjoying the dawn, I decided to go back to the fancy hotel, have a bubble bath and a nap before my friends arrived back for breakfast. This is definitely the most swanky place I've stayed in so far, and probably will stay in for many years. Cut into the hillside, it was partially cave dwelling and partially beautiful new hotel designed to match the stone of the original portions. With a massive bed, and dark wood furniture, all to myself, I felt like a princess. I even wore those ridiculous slippers you get.

After my friends returned, and we had a lovely breakfast on the terrace, we had more sightseeing to do. With only two days to pack all of this into, there was very little time to just sit, so breakfast was pretty special. And we were off, exploring a valley that had been used for raising pigeons. The pigeon houses are cut into the rock faces in massive numbers, and were raised as a source of food and fertilizer. Some roosts are still maintained, but with the rise of mass production of chemical fertilizers, many have since been abandoned. The hike was lovely, although a little hot, and with the sky an incredible blue, there were beautiful contrasts against the rock outcrops. As usual, we stopped for tea, sitting under the shade of a rock wall, on beautifully coloured cushions.

After exploring the outside, it was on to my favourite experience in Cappadocia. The underground cities. While talked about as cities, they were actually most likely used as short-term (a month?) shelters during moments of invasion, warfare, and strife. Passageways twisted and turned, and the only link to above ground were these narrow vertical shafts, aerating the vast network of tunnels. The "city" that we went to was called Kaymakli, and our guide informed us that it is probable that the Hittites first dug out caves here at about 1200BC. However, our lovely guide tended to talk in couched terms, using "in my opinion" far more often than made me comfortable. Perhaps something to read up on. There was some consensus on the main use and time period of these caves, however, being used by Christians to escape the Arab invasions in the 7th and 8th centuries.

On our tour we went down four levels of chambers and tunnels before re-emerging. There are 8 floors dug into the ground, but tourists only have access to the top four. We got to see living quarters, cooking areas, storage rooms, an air shaft, and many many passageways. Katie, Michelle, and I enjoyed being the young'uns on this tour (unusual for us these days), and may or may not have gotten into "trouble" for being slow, wandering off, giggling, and taking too many pictures. The tour was a mite frustrating at this stage, because I would have enjoyed spending much more time at this location, and felt quite rushed and constrained by the group. Recommendation: do this tour on your own, or with a private tour guide who can give you the personalized experience you wish for.

As usual, on the way out of a tour, they lead you past the shops. One last opportunity to buy scarfs or jewellery or carvings or those ever-present Turkish Evil Eyes (they call them this, but they're really to ward off evil spirits, however they kind of creep me out). There was even an Evil Eye tree.

One last look out over the city, and we were finished with our tour and off to the airport.

And then we were on the plane, whirlwind over. Back to France for me, and on to the States for my friends. What a great trip. Thanks, Katie and Michelle (and Steve!).

ps. Skaar, have you emailed that hot air balloon guide yet? :)