… is what you are going to call this blog entry, because that is about what sums up your last two weeks, wwoofing in a place 2 hours north of Barcelona called Mas Franch. There was nothing particularly wrong with Mas Franch. Nor was there anything particularly wrong about the people. A community running a non’profit sustainable living project which a huge motrgage and no organization. That was the biggest problem… lack of communication from your bosses. Never knew when you were going to be fed, what you woul dhave to do for work, where to meet for work, whether you would suddenly feel univited… what was permissible. What unacceptable things in your mind were TOTALLY permissible? NO rhyme of reason, and your boss Juan, was a fumbling fool most f the time, trying to salvage his manhood around you and Alexis most of the time.
If there is one thing you hate, it is people who try to slow you down. You like to work. You work fast, and you work hard, and you derive a sense of satisfaction from pretty much everything that you do. If you didnºt, then you wouldnºt bother. So when you and Alexis established yourselves as ridiculously hard workers on the first day, you were in for a week long power struggle with the man uysaed to dealing with frail, feminine, 18 year old girls as his primary source of labor. You wouldnºt tolerate being talked to like a little girl, particularly since you had more experience in construction that this man. But oh well, no use in breaking it down into irritating detail here. After about a week (when you had stopped PMSing and Juan had come to realize that you would NEVER soften up no matter how many stupid animal noises he made in hopes of getting a laugh) the power struggle ended. Juan learned to speak to you in a manner that made you feel that, yes, in fact, you ARE and adult. You stopped kicking him in the package every chance you got.
The work, while on some days quite slow, was actually quite interesting. You got a crash course in bio construction. Learned how to make adobe bricks and a brick oven. Learned how to build with bamboo, learned new ways of making concrete and other adhesive mixtures, learned about clay quality, straw bale building, cow shit plaster, whittling, etc. Sometimes the work was extremely physical (which you love, though it is only as physical as you make it). Other times, it was extremely boring busy work. There was a distinct lack of organization, and sometimes they simply hadnºt prepared enough work to accommodate yours and Alexisº speed.
Nice people. Nice place. Big project. But something was REALLY wrong there. Hard to explain, but you noticed it the day you left. There was something in the energy there that really poisoned everyone. YOu felt like outsiders. Very seperate from the group. Perhaps even disliked. Every project seemed pressed by the wrong kind of energy. No more musing there.
Highlights of the trip. You met a cute, hilarious Brisitish girl named Abby, who might have thrown herself off a cliff if you and Alexis hadnºt arrive (likewise). The three of yu laughed outrageously every night. On your weekeend off, you went to the nearby town and got a little drunk of the 1 euro bottles of wine. Abby got sick, and you wound up carrying her on your back, uphill, for 3 kilometers back to the farm while Alexis belted out showtunes. Good times.
In Barcelona now. Treating yourself to a couple nights at a hostel, keeping Abby company before you part ways. (Hostel is being funded by your surplus gained by not spending money for two weeks at Mas Franch). You and Alexis are a bit tired of camping and hiking. You think you might start couch surfing and wwoofing through Spain for a while. The money saved wwoofing can be put toward more extravagant cultureal experiences.