France

UPDATE (November 5 - November 28)

On November 5th, 2016, I left Barcelona and headed for the foothills of the French Pyrenees where I would be "WWOOFing" (working in exchange for meals and accommodation) on an endurance horse breeding farm.

​I was nervous to meet my hosts and learn about what work I would do, but I was excited to spend my days amidst the beautiful landscape and 19 horses.

ARRIVAL

My train pulled into a dark, rainy, and absolutely deserted Couiza-Montazels stop. I exited the train and crossed an old set of train tracks toward what looked like the street. A shadowy silhouette appeared against the yellow glow of the streetlight. I had just stepped into a horror film.

Despite the knot in my stomach, I thought this sillouette must belong to my WWOOF host, so I offered a tentative “Hi...” He replied with, “Amelia?” I exhaled a sigh of relief.

That night, I ate dinner with my hosts. The sautéed onions and brussel sprouts reminded me of home. Then, I settled into my small room in the guest house as rain continued to fall.

WORKING, WWOOFING; WONDERING, WANDERING

While rainy days filled my first week on the farm, I began to grow more comfortable and competent in my jobs and ended up really enjoying WWOOFing. Each and every morning I fed the young horses, which was not always an easy task as each horse required a different amouth of feed yet they were fed in an open pasture. Throughout the day I would help wherever help was needed on the farm, sometimes in the gardens, sometimes in the barn, sometimes in the guest house, sometimes in the kitchen. We concluded each day with a home cooked meal. The following video is a compilation of one second video clips for each day that I was living on the farm: 

After spending three busy weeks in Spain, I really needed the restful nights and refreshing air and reflective time that the farm offered. But it also got quite lonely.

Living in the French countryside with no one my age and no way to leave felt pretty isolating at times. 

The wifi didn’t work very well, which made it difficult to stay in touch with family and friends back home (not to mention, it let my mother's imagination run to the darkest places when I was unresponsive).

I didn’t speak the language, so I could not participate in conversation during dinners at neighboring farms, trips into town, and visits from my hosts' friends (thankfully, my hosts spoke English with me). I did, however, fall in love with the French language -- it's pretty difficult not to. The experience sparked a desire to learn new languages.

But this loneliness gave me valuable time to think and reflect. I read Deep Survival by Laurence Gonzales, a book about a life-or-death situations and who survives and who dies. I read Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse, which follows a young Indian boy's spiritual journey to enlightenment.

Both books shook my brain. Coupled with the expansive beauty and isolation of my location, the books prompted me to think about life, about fear, guilt, choice, courage, emotion, about the future, about the past, the present, the world. To capture and sort my thoughts, I journaled like a mad man. I would look back after finishing an entry to find that I filled 6+ pages in one sitting!

A DIVINE, EQUINE FAREWELL

On the day of my departure, I went out to give the horses a last goodbye. I never expected them to reciprocate the farewell. When I first walked up, they continued munching hay.

But when I stepped into the pasture Freya came over to me and stretched out her nose, affectionately checking out my fleece. Then Youna wandered over and did the same. Then Feel Good and Funky, then Candica and Gofast. They stood in a rough semicircle around me. As they nuzzled me, I pet and kissed them.

It was a surreal moment of palpable connection between (wo)man and beast. It was the closure I didn't know I needed.