Dear Friends and Family,

Please forgive my typos and disorganized writing style. Also, when I use emoticons please ignore it. It is just the effects of a disease that I picked up while living in Asia. I can’t stop.

Before I begin, let me just say that while most travelers always gush that they love traveling by themselves, personally, I disagree. Maybe it comes from being a naturally kind of spacey person who is bound to climb aboard the wrong train or miss an important announcement or misread my tickets, but I find that when I travel, I am almost constantly relying on the kindness of complete strangers. For that, I would like to say thank you to: the German man who helped me roll my three suitcases around Frankfurt airport, after watching me slowly (though I bet amusingly) roll three pieces of luggage by myself, the tall Australian-- let's just say the many tall people--who helped me place or retrieve my overweight stuff from overhead compartments, the Turkish man in the internet café who let me use his computers after they were closed to print out my Ryanair boarding ticket, and the friendly old Italian man who smiled and escorted me to the right bus pickup on random sides of the street. I'll add you to the list of others to whom I owe thanks, many of whom are Chinese taxi drivers.

So I have arrived in Europe, and really, I feel so comfortable here already. The first day I spent in Frankfurt, my friend picked me up at the airport and helped me lug all my bags for Bologna to store while I travel. That day as the sun set we went on a run along the river Main which runs through the city. The sky was pink with clouds behind the cityscape across the river, and our side of the river was lined with a number of outdoor bars and and picnic areas where people were enjoying the view and drinking beer. I am trying to think of a comparable urban atmosphere to some place in the US, but I can’t. Please remind me if you think of one.

Now on to the “Italian pot farm,” as another friend called it. “I always knew working on an Italian pot farm would play to your strengths,” he wrote me. He is joking and they don’t actually grow pot here. I have been working here for just over a week, and I have to say, I think agree with him. Life here as a WWOOF (Worldwide Organization of Organic Farming) volunteer, or WOOFer, is unbelievably relaxed.

For those whom I may not have told, last year I paid about 30 dollars or so to become a member of the Italian WWOOF. For that price, not only do I get an updated online list of WWOOF member farms, but I also get Italian (I believe catastrophic) insurance while I volunteer on an organic farm/vineyard while in Italy. I found Cascina Degli Ulivi through this listing, and they said they had an opening for two weeks at the time I requested.  So I volunteer helping with work on the farm, and in return they feed me and give me a place to sleep for free. Ever since I found out about WOOFing I have wanted to try. I think the main reason is I am obsessed with food. I also like to occasionally test my dirt and physical endurance limits (though maybe my only prior example is the Tough Mudder I completed last year). So, I thought I would try WOOFing for two weeks during my travels this summer.  

Anyway, the farm itself is relatively small. Its largest building is a kitchen, kind of informal but warmly-decorated dining room, and a few bed and breakfast-type rooms, which is the “agritourism” side of the farm. Four other buildings house different staff of the farm. The oldest and most rustic of which is the guys’ house, where most of the male workers and volunteers stay. The nicest house is where Bianca, the owner’s mother, lives with her helper. A third building has two apartments. The owner’s ex-wife stays in one and the head of the farm office in another with her son. A few trailers are set up on the farm and on the main vineyard where a few other workers live. I think one of the most remarkable aspects of life here is how the core staff of the farm lives here, eats here, and in addition their social life also revolves around the farm.

My accommodations are hostel-quality, but I am completely happy with it because it is free! I share a small room with two other girls, but we have our own cots with real mattresses and clean sheets and blankets. My roommates are Amber from LA and Teresa from Milan. We leave on the light for each other at night, don’t mind the five or six daddy-long legs spiders hanging around on the ceiling, and enjoy our daily girl-talk. We have a fairly clean bathroom all to ourselves.

The rest of the farm family is a warm, diverse group of people. Sonia, a very talkative woman in probably her early forties, runs the office and has great English and an adorable son named Manuel. Manuel helps with all things around the farm kitchen in between playing imaginary war games around the gardens. Mitch is an older Italian man in his fifties (but strangely looks much older, must be the farm life) who is in charge of making the cheese, the yogurt, and seems to be in general charge of the cows and the one horse, Pioggia. Mitch is tall with a mischievous smile and is always making jokes. He is also a celebrated cook on the staff. Luca is a quiet guy in his early thirties who I swear looks exactly like a hippie version of Orlando Bloom. Amber agrees. He drives the tractor. Leo is a muscular Italian guy covered in tattoos who is funny and loud. Last week I watched him ride a horse bareback and then later attempt to ride a cow. He taught us WOOFers how to yell and chase cows. He has a tough-guy attitude but is very serious and self-critical of his own cooking. Actually yesterday he made lunch for me but I misunderstood him and he asked me “where the f*ck” I was through Teresa that night. I felt really bad and apologized, but he laughed it off. Stefano, the owner, also looks like he is much older but is only in his mid-fifties. He can come off as cranky one moment but very generous and semi-raucous the next. He looks like a farmer with a tall, skinny but strong build, wispy hair, and fairly unkept facial hair. He sometimes yells and rants about things, slamming on the table in a comical way at dinner, and I am guessing it is about politics. Apparently he is a pioneer and "inspiration" in Italian organic wine. See the illuminating extended interview with him here (which makes me despair even more that I don't speak Italian, because he seems really cool):  http://louisdressner.com/producers/Ulivi/

Another important character is Paco the farm dog. He is a huge sheepdog-looking (and I may be totally wrong because I know nothing about breeds) bear of a dog that is very sweet to all staff but protective of Stefano. I am glad he has never once barked at me. Paco is not allowed in the houses but he often disobeys this rule. He also enjoys barking and chasing the cars that come in and out of the farm. Both violations cause everyone on the farm to throw their hands up in the air and yell “Paco, basta!” which means “Paco, enough!” It seems every evening Paco can be found looking out over the fields, contemplating his life and keeping watch for intruders.

Other animals on the farm include chickens and a rooster, about twenty cows (each with their own names from Dumbolina to “Old one”) and three calves, ducks and many ducklings, aggressive geese who hiss at everyone, two adorable white and brown-spotted cats (one of which has blue eyes that are crossed), one large and boisterous brown goat with flapping ears, and two adorable small black and white spotted goats.

Produce on the farm, besides the grapes in the vineyard, include plum, apple, peach and apricot trees; watermelon; zucchini; asparagus; strawberries; tomatoes; leeks; onions; carrots; spinach; lettuce; and eggplant. 

As for the work on the farm, it is incredibly relaxing. As WOOFers we only have to work 6 hours a day, 5 days a week, and really no one is paying much attention. We are all trusted to get our hours done and in actuality we all do a bit more. As far as the type of work, I have been lucky it has been so varied. I have organized crates, picked strawberries, weeded around carrots and asparagus, brought water to the pasture, herded cows, chased cows, intimidated and yelled at cows, hoed garden soil, chopped and grated carrots in the kitchen, washed the cheese-making instruments, and washed dinnertime plates and pans. I have also helped with organic methods of keeping the insects off the plants, such as building nests of hay around some of them, or placing bunches of mint around the field. In addition I have learned about the cheese-making and the yogurt-making, which was as simple as I remember it from watching something about it on Sesame Street.

Eating and drinking on the farm is magnificent for it being free! We three girls are responsible for kind of foraging for our own breakfasts from the bread, cheese, and eggs available from the guy’s house where the worker food is distributed. Our kitchen also has butter, various pastas, olive oil, assorted spices, and other necessary things for cooking. A large fridge behind the main kitchen holds the yogurt and the stores of jams and sometimes vegetable which we are free to take within reason. We are also free to take plums from the trees and some things from the small garden, again within reason.

Every workday lunch is provided by the main kitchen, which has mostly been some kind of salad (often simply shredded cucumbers and lettuce on which we drizzle olive oil, vinegar, and salt) with pasta of often a different kind each day but has also included beans, couscous, lasagna, and barley with vegetables. Bread is always served and, if we are lucky, cheese. To drink, we have big bottles of fizzy mineral water from the restaurant machine, regular water, and huge glass containers of red or white table wine. Especially refreshing is red wine added to the mineral water. After lunch we are always given espressos. Lunch is not only with the core farm family, but also with the other office staff, construction workers, kitchen staff, and other workers from the fields. I look forward to everyone coming together at the same time every day, and to my espresso.

Dinner is where the core farm family always gathers. Someone different is in charge of dinner every night. WOOFers are not expected to cook, but we almost always take care of the dishes and cleaning afterward in return. Special meals besides pasta have been chicken curry (the supreme treat!) and lasagna with meat. Wine is always served with dinner, and sometimes, we have the nice bottled wine from the vineyard or from the owner’s cellar. I do not know much about wine, but I immensely enjoy the wine here. The labels say they are “Triple A” certified by the Italian organic wine organization, and they use no sulfates as often found in wines in the US. The first night I tasted their “Merle Bianca” wine, and it was incredibly fragrant with both fruit and flowers and was just the right amount of sweet. It is the best wine I have had so far while in Italy, and later I checked the price listing and it is the Cascina’s most expensive. I have to find out where they sell this in the United States! Apparently their main importer is LDM Wines in NYC, but they distribute it to other places.

So that sums up the main details of the farm, but as I said, the experience as a whole has been relaxing. It is of course more than that. Stacy asked me if I found the work to be boring, but I find that it isn’t. Maybe this is the hippie in me that my friend suggested, but there is something about sitting in the sun, in the dirt, weeding around plants for hours that feels, as one new Italian friend put it, “zen.” My mind feels very clear and relaxed. After working for three years at a desk, often hardly aware of the weather and any animals outside, it is a pleasurable change. I am enjoying every moment. I mean, I don’t feel like weeding alone is something that I could do for more than a month or two. Ideally, if I were to stay here longer, I would want to continue doing a variety of tasks, as well as help more in the kitchen and maybe bake American pies for the tourists. :)

The culture here, what I have witnessed in a very short amount of time, has also been wonderful to accommodate to. Italians seem to be very laid back in general and not easily offended, which is good for someone who doesn’t speak the language. Farm family life leads to grabbing food with your hands and own utensils out of the communal dishes, lightly joking and nagging each other, friendly “ciaos” at every passing, and helping each other with all aspects of work here from cleaning to serving coffee. Another great aspect of farm and WOOFing life is that often on weekends farms will have big parties where workers from neighboring farms come to hang out, meet other workers and volunteers, eat, drink, and dance. We went to a big vineyard with a lot of WOOFers a few weeks ago, and we danced Italian folk dances and hung out with other volunteers until the early morning.  The crowd was quite decked out in their hemp and piercings, dreadlocks, and drapey, earth-toned clothing. Amber and I definitely stuck out in our dark skinny jeans and tank tops. Despite this, we were welcomed and quickly made friends with any of the people we ventured to introduce ourselves to. The party scene here is something I did not expect. I did not expect to be dancing in a circle with about forty people around an Italian folk band, in the middle of a farm, surrounded by vineyards, at two o’clock in the morning.

In conclusion for this post, my travels continue and hopefully I can write an entry every few weeks. Miss you and thanks for taking the time to read. :) 

Ciao Ciao!

Adrienne