WWOOFing in France: summery of the first farm |

By lesperdus

As I sit here on the corner of Bd de Clichy and Rue Caulaincourt at Cafe de Luna enjoying an onion soup and a glass of wine, I don’t drink wine but it seems fitting, I am taken aback by the past few weeks and the adventure that has led me here.

Wwoofing, what a curious experience to sum up into words. I’m not sure what I was expecting nor did I really have an idea of what all it entails. What Ive come to experience is something that I’ll never forget. I came into this experience as a city girl, afraid to get my hands dirty and a ridiculous fear of bugs. I am sitting here now as a girl with callus hands, dirt under my fingernails and an appreciation for the role every insect plays. Ive come to learn that nothing worthwhile is easy. Organic farming is no day in the park. We would spend hours in the blazing sun weeding when it would be so much easier to simply spray insecticide and weed killers but what would we be spraying on the food and in the soil of the very thing that we consume. Every basket of strawberries, every tomato, every pea took us time, sweat and labor to harvest but oh was it ever so satisfying popping that deliciously ripened strawberry into your mouth knowing that you are the one that pulled it from the soil with your bare hands. Just the thought alone brings a sense of fulfillment over me.

So what have I learned? Ive learned that watering is different from plant to plant. Ive learn how to seed plants and ensure it sprouts. Ive learn how to assist plants in standing up and growing taller. Ive learned that tending to tomatoes for hours will make your hands look like a villain lizard’s hands. Ive learned how to harvest. Ive learned that a greenhouse can feel like a sauna. Ive learned that the details matter. Ive learned that shit is life. Ive learned that the rain sings a lovely song through the roof of the greenhouse. I’ve learn how welcoming French people can be. Ive learned how to feed chickens. Ive learned what it feels like to hold a freshly laid egg in my hands. Ive learned that French people love reggae music. Ive learned how gratifying it feels to eat what you harvest. Ive learned that I suck at soccer. Ive learned how bright the stars can be away from city lights. Ive learned how magical it is to witness not one but dozens of shooting stars. Ive learned that I still have much to learn.

But what would this experience be without the people involved. As much as Ive learned on the farm, that was only half of the experience. We’ve gotten to know people that we hope to to know for a long time.

As for our host family, they have taught me so much. They work hard for what they believe in and for that they are happy and content. Organic farming haven’t made them wealthy but they live a rich life. Stephane is a hardworking man with quick jokes and extreme dedication. I greatly admire his leadership.

He never asked us to do anything that he wouldn’t do himself and he always made sure we were alright. I felt like he truly cared about our experience and tried to make sure it was a fulfilling one. One night after dinner, the family and all of us woofers were sitting around exchanging our views on life, Stephane said something that stuck with me. He said that we can change the world with our small actions. As he said this, I knew he genuinely believes this and he was living his truth. Adeline is a brilliant and loving woman. She always made sure we were comfortable and well feed. There is just an aura about her that I can’t really try to explain but she made me feel like part of the family. The children were sweet and entertaining. They proved to me that no matter what part of the world you live in some family dynamics are universal. I am happy knowing that they were going to grow up to be well rounded people with an understanding and respect for people from all across the globe.

Upon arriving, there were already two woofers there. They returned from the farm covered in dirt and sweat. Seeing them, I thought to myself what the hell did I get myself into! I learned they were called Harry and Dean. Harry is from Wales but he had more of a British/Aussie accent. Dean, a fellow American was from Baltimore. Both literary minds with a knack for poetry and philosophy, but that was about all they had in common. Harry just twenty, had just graduated and wanted a different experience before he was off to University. Innocent and young, he was full of ideals about the way the world could be. He had to leave us early but Im happy to have met him. Dean 22, having just graduated college was seeking to learn about things he knew nothing about. He wanted to grow as a person by gaining experiences. It took a few days to break the exterior but it was worthwhile. Thought and deep, conversations with him were a pleasure. A couple of days before we left, a French fellow joined us. Quentin who had met Stephane at a farmer’s market decided to come help for a few days. He proved to be further evidence that the misconception of French people being rude is a myth. He is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. Claiming that he only spoke a little bit of English, he was practically fluent. He was alway happy to help us with our French and even recommended a few of his favorite places in Paris for us to visit.

To sum it up, my experience on this particular farm was everything I could ask for. The work was gratifying and the relationships were enriching. If you want to know more about the farm, just email me at amelia.lesperdus@gmail.com

I will be posting a day to day account of my two weeks wwoofing at this farm soon so check back.