When you are considering a vast and important life change and decide to go work on an organic farm in Spain for a few months, there are some key factors you really ought to consider.
1. Is the farm in the middle of no where?
2. Is there one working phone in the vicinity?
3. Is there internet access in more then one location in the surronding, say, 100 square miles (or Kilometers, it is Spain, after all)?
4. Are the owners of this farm insane drunken prejudiced Brits who will mock you, your Americaness, you beliefs and your clothing constantly and speak no Spanish?
5. Do you really like horses?
6. Do you really like the smell of horses on everything you own?
7. Do you have enough money for alcohol?
8. Do you even enjoy farming?
9. Do you want to be picking straw out of various parts of your underthings constantly?
10. What the hell are you thinking?
Had I considered even one of these key questions I might now not be finding myself in just such a town, working on just such a farm, franticlly looking up flights back to the United States. Because as it turns out, the tiny town of Tobarra, while charming for an hour, is dreadful for any longer then that. And while the idea of getting back to nature and being totally cut off from the world as you know it and the itunes store in particular is a delightful one, the reality is far more painful. I am now bruised, scratched, bitten (thank you, Campero the stallion, you´ve made my day) and thinking about my escape plans. In other words, come next Tuesday, I´m out of here.
In times of stress, trouble, or when you find your life plan for the next five months falling to bits around you, it might help to breathe, relax, and try to find a wine opening. Oh, well, life is nothing if not a series of setbacks. Or, in my case, life is currently a series of jobs involving horse manure. So you scrap the plan and start again somewhere else, right? Preferably somewhere where they speak Spanish. Given that I´m in Spain, I had no idea that would be so difficult to find.
Long story short, I´ve got some more time on this strange farm (which I use the lip of a highway to walk to daily. Seriously. What is the term for ¨ghetto¨ which you can apply to the country? Whatever it is, I need to know it), but I´m counting down the days. A week from right now I´ll be in Madrid, where I think Í´ll be staying for at least a month or so. The struggle, my friends, I´m feeling it right now.
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