So. I arrived yesterday evening at La Fermette de La Forge. I took the train from Paris to Châteauroux, then a bus to Ste-Severe-sur-Indres - which needed reservation at least three hours in advance... In the train station in Paris, waiting for the platform number of my train to show up on the announcement board, among the neatly-black-and-grey dressed Parisians busily going here and there, a feeling that the travel had started reached my heart. Feeling of freedom, of so many opportunities ahead, of being on the verge of experiencing all these new things and landscapes and people. My mild to sometimes severe anxiety, whilst preparing for the travel for the past month, had given way to pure excitement.
At Châteauroux, I stepped in the bus and said to the driver "I am going to Ste-Severe". The bus driver replied, "Me as well".
It was night and deserted and complete silence in Ste-Severe, except for the food-and-flower shop lady closing up the shop, while an old lady in a house in front was throwing out some dish-washing water on the street, meanwhile entertaining conversation with the shop-lady. I asked the shop lady if I could buy one cigarette from her. She gave me four, for free, apologizing they being menthol. She inquired about my lift not coming, asking if I needed a phone. I said I should be fine. The old lady worried for me as well and said "well, if it's arranged, it's arranged". And then she and the old lady left in a van, into the silent night.
My lift came. A man came out of the car and quickly shook my hand and said simply 'I am Peter'. He then busily worked on something under the hood of his car, apparently worried and stressed. Something was not working with the battery, so that it was not recharging. He feared that we would not be able to reach home before the battery's death. But we gave it a try, and he brought me to the village center; he wanted to show me this old full-wood market awning, which one can see in the old Tatie's movie 'Jour de Fête', which had been filmed in Ste-Severe, and which Peter had recommended that I watch before I come.
But the battery wasn't keeping up, so Peter took out his cell phone and asked his wife if the other wwoofer couple here could come and pick us up. After a while, the "bus" arrived, with the wwoofer couple and Julie, Peter's wife, inside.
We stepped into the bus. It was really like a little house in there. There was a wood stove, cooking spoons hanging on the ceiling and menacing to fall down on our heads any minute, a bed in the back, thick purple curtains all around, and embroidered cloths on benches. The bus was in his living-mode, not traveling, explained the wwooferin. The wwoofers' dog lying at my feet, off we took, the five of us bouncing on the small country road.
**
I got to see the surroundings of La Forge only this morning, as I woke up in my caravan at cockcrow, with the view on the green plains and the sun shining through the leave less trees. The surroundings are simply absolutely gorgeous.
Here are ten pretty young and constantly purring cats (because the two which they had at first unexpectedly gave birth to eight before they got to neuter them), two huge and sweet black dogs, and -but them, for food- sheep, goats, chickens, ducks, and geese.
The host couple is from Scotland. Three years ago they set out for an eight months travel through France, with the caravan in which I now sleep, on search for a piece of land to buy. They settled on this one here two years ago (for about 60 k euros). The place had been uninhabited since 1983. There is a derelict house, with no water or electricity, which roof however had been replaced a few years ago, saving the house from collapse; a 'modern' two-room cottage in which they live while they renovate the house; one hectare of pasture, and two hectares of forest.
There is a also big huge and nice barn right in front of the house, but it belongs to the sister of the woman who sold the farm and land, and this sister will not let go of her barn, although she doesn't use it. (Peter said that there is quite of a "country" mentality here, in that farmers will never let go of things, even if they don't use them. He gave me the example of this old man nearby who is too old to put his socks on - so that a friend comes to visit twice a day, only to help him put his socks on. This old man has a huge pile of hay in his barn, which he doesn't do anything with - that he can't put socks on I guess explains why. So Peter asked him if he could buy some hay from him. But the old man never agreed, and always replied "No, it might always serve for something".) A few times a year the sister comes by to 'check' on her barn. She walks around, tears in her eyes, reminiscing her childhood in this farm, and the memories of her father doing this and that in the kitchen. She refused to come in and see the inside of the house, so moved she was. But apparently, everyone in the neighborhood says she is crazy. Julie says that the sister who sold is completely different; young Parisian, she came here walking in the mud with high-heels.
The goal of this couple is to live as self-sustainably as possible, with respect to food and energy. When they need some money, Peter said, they can sell wood, with a much more profitable work/revenue ratio than if they sold food.
The two are extremely warm, friendly and cheerful people. They love to explain and discuss all sorts of things. Julie is very peaceful and down to earth. She speaks English with an accent that sounds Russian to me - I love it. When we were in the bus yesterday, Peter worried about his broken-down car which would require so much time to get fixed (which made him say later "There is something to be said about horses", to which Claire replied "but horses get sick too", Peter replying in turn "But you can shoot them and eat them"). And Julie said, "Well, that's just the way it is".
Food: is here a whole topic in itself. These people live and work in order to get very good food for themselves (and, for my enjoyment, the wwoofers). Outside from wheat, rice, spices, coffee and tea, butter and cheese, they produce and preserve everything else (all sorts of vegetables, white beans, potatoes, meat from lamb and the birds I guess, eggs, goat milk, some fruits and nuts, herbs), and have the goal to eventually not buy any food (which would mean, to stop drinking tea! Oh no! I don't know if that's a sacrifice any UK person could go through...). All the meals I had so far (vegetable soups and stews, lamb burgers and potatoes) were terrific.
They have been doing this for two years; making their food and renovating, not working more than four hours a day, and not on week-ends (outside from feeding the animals). Knowing this I wondered how come people with big farms work their ass off long days, if they could survive with their land with much less work. I guess that most people do not even realize that they could, or would not feel able to learn everything one needs to know to do it. And probably that many really do wish to have big farms. I guess there is also the problem that people haven't yet bought the land that they live on. Hm.
The two other wwoofers staying here in their 'bus', Chris and Claire, are from Ireland. Claire is extremely gentle and I generally cannot understand much of what she says - I can't even tell what her accent looks like. Chris I understand better, and is also a sweet man who reminds me of the French actor Bourvil (these accent mysteries will be later explained: Julie has the Scottish accent, Claire Irish, and Peter and Chris British).
They did "commercial archaeology" for a living before, and are probably in their forties now. They got sick of doing archaeology for the sake of building supermarkets, so they quit and now travel through France to see if they would like and be able to live the self-sustained life. They do it in France, Claire told me, because they like the culture and know the language, and because they couldn't afford to buy land in Ireland, and because anyway the weather is too miserable there, says Claire, for any sensible person to wish to live this kind of life there.
Today as we shoveled goat shit and hay for our four hours of work, Chris found a pair of scissors, and the couple dated it to the late nineties of 'plastic age', considering the depth of the shit layer in which it had been found. As we worked, the sun shone, and it was warm enough for wearing just a sweater. Julie put music out for us (Canadian music it turned out, which they were so disappointed that I do not know). It felt just like the beginning of a romantic back-to-land movie - before the difficulties to overcome emerge.
**
This afternoon I went for a walk around. Green pastures, trees, some farms. Warm sun slowly setting over the lovely hills. I met four or five cars. What a treat - to walk and to not hear cars, without needing to hide in deep forest!
On my way back I asked a woman busy doing something on the side of her house, if the path I was looking for was indeed around there. From her and the conflicting contribution of her man, ensued the longest and most complicated and non-understandable way explanation and discussion I had ever heard - but oh, how kind and concerned.
