Ok, ok, where do I start?! Kate and I had high expectations of Casa Linho; the website looked amazing, our communication with the hosts had been easy and helpful and after a week in Lisbon (3 days of which Kate was recovering from a mystery illness that rendered her as The Ghost of Rossio Hostel for a period of 24 hours – much to the bemusement of the hostel’s House Witch) we were ready to get stuck in to helping out with the running of a fully functioning permaculture farm!
*Note – The last month of our wwoofing journey has been intense, rich and diverse – I initially tried to present this to you guys in a structured, diplomatic and concise post but I just was not feeling it. For us Casa Linho was not structured or diplomatic or concise. In the spirit of balance I am splitting it into two sections – the Rave and the Rant. You can choose which one to read first.
The Rave
Our time wwoofing in the mountains of central Portugal was for sure an enriching one. There were many experiences and aspects of Casa “Gleanyo” that we will take with us on our journey for the remainder of our travels and our lives.
Firstly (and once again) the people we met, got to know, worked alongside and became friends with are simply wonderful. It has been a truly magical experience to spend time with so many people from all over the world – sharing stories, perspectives, experiences and ideas. Thank you to (in no particular order) Vinz, Sara, Serge, Gabriel, Yoska, Stan, Max – our lives are richer for having met you. It blows me away that after more than 3 months of wwoofing and meeting a couple of dozen wwoofs there was not one person who clashed with either of our personalities – despite being put in some rather tense situations together. Upon expressing this to other wwoofs the general consensus is that it takes a certain (broad) kind of person to want to wwoof in the first place and that type of person lends themselves to open and honest communication most of the time. I have no choice but to agree – we had some amazing conversations and there were (almost) always smiles. Hooray!
Then there was the place. While not in the most beautiful part of the world – and I am writing this with a view over gorgeous Tuscan hills, so all things are relative – but central Portugal is largely covered with pine forest & wind turbines. We were very isolated – the nearest supermarket was a cab ride plus a 90 minute bus trip away – this turned out to be both a yay and a nay but there were many things about the location that made our experience memorable:
• For the first time in our travels I saw the Milky Way.
• There was a dammed lake nearby which we visited, picnicked at, walked around and SUPed in/along at every opportunity we could (sadly all of our photos were on our camera which was stolen – SUPing among and above the tops of pine trees was a surreal experience).
• Every morning the Sun would rise over the hill like a halo of renewable energy around our 2 neighbouring wind turbines and light up the valley and warm our bodies. Conversely when the Sun disappeared you felt it through to the bone. ‘Connected’ feels like the right word for it and it is a special feeling.
Next and not least was living ‘Off Grid’. We have a new found appreciation for fire, for warmth (it was often well below zero overnight and difficult to get warm in our draughty caravan – many thanks to Rock and Nel for sending over some quality sleeping bags), for hot water (every coffee, cup of tea and sink of hot water required lighting a fire of some sort) and for the simple and absolutely refreshing experience of bathing in the chilled water of a mountain stream and then drying in the warmth of the sun. It was a wonderful way to cleanse the body and the mind of the stench and thoughts of goats. We both found the lack of electricity and internet to be liberating and easy – the 40 minute walk once weekly to the (second) nearest village in order to make contact with the outside world was a pleasure.
The topic of food is a complex one. Local food in remote central Portugal is nothing to write home about – over cooked meat and an inordinate amount of rice, bread and pasta is the general fare (peasant food is ever present in Europe and experiencing somewhat of a chic revival). Kate and I cultivated a new and different appreciation for food – we love our fresh fruit, vegetables and our meat – all things that were in short supply at Casa Linho and not really on offer in the quantities we prefer. As already mentioned, a trip to the local supermarket to restock was more than a casual errand so we had to think very carefully and ration our supplies. Our daily fruit for breakfast, a carrot for morning tea and a boiled egg for lunch became something more than sustenance – food became a mindful, pleasurable and meaningful aspect of our daily life.
Then there was the Salads – the job of foraging through the farm collecting lettuce, shoots, flowers and various edible weeds often fell to Kate and myself – while often taking the best part of an hour (twice a day), we placed a high priority on this task because it ensured that our meals were satisfying, balanced and nutritious.
Finally with the Food was the question of meat. It became clear early on that the luxury of meat was not something gifted to wwoofs on a regular basis – largely due to the admirable attitude of our hosts that we should be acutely aware of the fact that for us to eat meat on the farm, something has to die. I myself do not believe that awareness requires me to undertake the act itself, nonetheless the killing, skinning, butchery and consumption of an animal was an experience I openly sought while wwoofing. While I thought it might be a goat, it wasn’t (a goat did get slaughtered – but not eaten – while we were at the farm but that is a post all in itself), a Rabbit ended up bearing the brunt of my very modern wish to connect with my meals and I am stoked to have had the opportunity to fulfil that wish – it was delicious.
*I chuckle quietly as I imagine the people who stole our camera scrolling through the photos and coming across the grinning faces of Kate and myself as we extract the gizzards and offal from the bloody carcass of a buck rabbit.
Lastly there was the Toil. Both Kate and I are strong, fit, physical creatures and took great pleasure in the Zen of manual labour – whether it be digging an enormous half-hole in the side of a hill in order to hide the impending solar shower block, the tilling of the field that the tractor could not access, the collection of goat food in the hills, the mixing of concrete or the barrowing of various types of animal shit to any number of locations around the farm – the feeling at the end of a hard physical days work is a good one.
On top of the physicality of what pretty much equates to peasant farming (see Rant) there was the daily tasks – collecting the food for the animals, milking the goats (they are bastards of creatures and as delicious as the fresh cheese was I am in awe of Andrea for her daily efforts squeezing the goaty nectar out of the devilish animals) and the weeding……ok…..I didn’t like the weeding. Undertaking these ourselves, witnessing our hosts (or hearing them in the case of the goat milking) or the other wwoofs undertaking these tasks all contributed to the (again) connectedness of our daily lives – a unique and fulfilling experience.
If you are one to shy away from negativity – tune out now, or skip to the last paragraph. However if you want the whole picture then read on as while we were able to glean, extract and seek positive experiences and perspectives from Casa Linho there was a good deal of anger, frustration and other emotional challenges that went on – below is just a selection.
The Rant
First up – Casa Linho as a working Permaculture farm? Bullshit. It soon became clear that if I wanted to learn the principles of Permaculture I was going to have to figure them out myself. Thankfully a couple of books were lying around that were quite instructive and my learning began. Permaculture resonates strongly with me as a Landscape Designer – the basic idea being that the high energy input of both peasant (human) and modern (mechanised) farming can be significantly reduced through the input of mental energy (design).
While Casa Linho loosely applied some Permacultural principles the rigorous, critical application of mental energy and quality holistic spatial and system design was just not there. Permaculture is supposed to be about minimum input for maximum output – to give you an idea of what the reality was – a typical day (being conservative) at Casa Linho involved:
• 2 man hours collecting rabbit and chicken food – we ate 2 rabbits (shared between 8 people) in the month that we were there and bought our own eggs – I am not even sure if the chickens laid anything.
• 2 man hours collecting food for the goats.
• 1 man hour walking the goats
• 1 man hour milking the goats – the milk produced between 1 and 2 pieces of cheese per person per day
• 6 or more man hours undertaking various manual labour tasks such as weeding, tilling the soil, digging irrigation channels etc.
So for 12 hours of manual labour a day you get a little piece of cheese to eat and a quarter of a rabbit once a month! That is a hell of a lot of input for not much output in my opinion – I was under no illusions – what we were doing was not Permaculture. And what was even more astounding to us was that our hosts openly rejected the idea of self sufficiency and permaculture – they even expressed a degree of disdain at the fact that the significant toil of running the farm with minimum use of machinery and power required the presence (and feeding) of wwoofs. Ummm, thanks very much?!!
Staying on the same train but changing carriages – the living conditions. Ok, so there was no electricity and no internet, no showers and no hot water. No problem – we were expecting it and looking forward to experiencing the simple life. Our resolve was tested in the first few days when we worked through the rain and our clothes and boots became soaked, it was cold, the firewood was green and wet and the stupendously small wood stove/heater took hours to start for a very small amount of warmth. Tensions were high and morale was low, with nothing but the attitude of ‘suck it up folks’ from our hosts – easy to say when you have a farmhouse to shelter and sleep in, a decent wood stove for warmth and more than one change of dry clothes. After a few days of this the wwoofs put their soggy feet down and after taking care of the animals we piled into Vinz and Sara’s van (who were a lovely wwooflet couple from Bavaria and Austria respectively) and drove to the restaurant at the nearby lake for some warm hearty food and a hot shower. That afternoon the sun came out and stayed out non-stop for over two weeks – the vibe of the place changed immensely and working outside became a pleasure.
Same carriage still – one of the tasks of the wwoofs was to wash the dishes (cooking was done in the farm house by our hosts) in the outdoor kitchen – but not before the dogs had had their turn gleaning any leftovers off the plates – arse and ball licking, unwashed, flea ridden dogs being given free reign to lick our dishes before they were washed in cold water (often in the dark) and our next meal being served up to us on them. And one of our hosts wonders why he had stomach issues……
The lack of respect for the health and hygiene of their volunteers came to a head for myself when collecting rabbit food with a bill hook (see photos) one cold and wet morning – in a moment of mindless distraction I sliced right in to my thumb. Ok – my fault – I was using a sharp and dangerous tool and I should have been paying more attention – but what got mine and Kate’s blood boiling was when we requested the first aid kit we were presented wit a plastic bag with an old bottle of betadine in it, some not-non-stick gauze and a couple of band-aids. When Kate suggested a more adequate kit be assembled considering their isolation and utilisation of unskilled labour a pathetic excuse along the lines of ‘wwoofs use it all up’ was offered. To top things off as I sat there stemming the bleeding of my now slightly disfigured thumb (my left thumbnail is now about 5mm longer than my right), and while Kate tried to figure out the best way to clean and protect the wound from infection in the coming days – one of our socially inept hosts came out joking about getting Septicaemia. After bleeding for 3 days we at last got adequate first aid materials, not from our hosts but from Vinz and Sara, but by that point we had forgotten about his shitty comedic timing & were just happy that I’d stopped leaching vital bodily fluids.
So I think that just about summarises the Good, the Bad, and the Goaty – I think I have said my piece. Wooo – sorry guys – mammoth post – I hope you enjoyed it. I am not even going to bother with a wrap up apart from saying that the last three and a half months have been amazing, we consider ourselves incredibly lucky to have suddenly found ourselves with a large hole in our itinerary and nothing to fill it with – forcing us to look laterally for a solution. Wwoofing has been enormously rewarding in so many ways, it will be with us for the rest of our lives and we are so happy to have done it. Now that the toil is over – it is time for us to enjoy – as one wwoof eloquently put it – some more ‘leisurely travel’. To sweeten the deal even further – the next couple of months are to be spent with much missed family. Hooray!
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