Farmville, Part II: Day Labor

Lazy day on the farm...

After the first (sleepless) night on the dirty piece of dilapidated foam that was our mattress (and the mattress of many a spider and other biting insects that kept me up that night and further caused me to ring in my 28th birthday with the crater-face I managed to bypass 14 years earlier), we reported to work at 8:30 sharp for our first shift as day laborers. We were introduced to many lovely farmer's amenities, like the zapa (something resembling a hoe and resulting in a buff upper body and hand blisters) and special bags as large as your body that you tie around your neck and waist and fill with kilos and kilos of apples as you waddle from tree to tree. Best of all, we were introduced to the family of El Peregrino. Though they may be dirtier than the children in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang or even the Garbage Pail Kids, what they lack in hygeine they make up for with amabilidad (kindness, in Spanish.)

While handpicking 25 hectacres of apples, one has a lot of time to reflect. Despite their lack of creature comforts typical of our own daily lives, it is not hard to come to the conclusion that these people have been able to maintain something truly quite special, something that may float further and further away as societies develop further and further from our true necessities (which we all too often forget are very few.) We have become adept at complicating our lives and needs. In fact, therein lies the root of this experience...

Not to say the work is "easy". Our work days were long, 8:30 to 1:00, when we would eat lunch, rest for 30-45 minutes and return to work until the sun went down at about 7:30. I'd love to tell you about how we herded sheep on horses or about how I singlehandedly saved the lives of a sounder of pigs by lassoing the big, bad predator (picture a fierce, snarling puma or, if you prefer, Jason after being vegetarian for two weeks), but our work was less romantic, though presumably as rewarding. About 80% of the first week was picking apples and about 80% of the second week was juicing them (6000 liters in 3 days, an all time, farm history record BOO YAH!) Other tasks included: hoeing, weeding, picking squash, lettuce, tomatoes, and several varieties of peas, preparing produce to sell at the farmer's market, and sensing when to disappear as to avoid being assigned the task of diaherra-bucket-emptier. (Because of the irony of the freshest, most delicious food prepared in the dirtiest of conditions, each day several volunteers were sick.) Our free time was filled with far too much usage of the outdoor tiolet, sleeping (thank God for overworking your free laborers to exhaustion), trying to speak Spanish (however poorly), walking "the very, very short distance" (so we were fooled) of 15km roundtrip to fight with teenaged, war-hungry video gamers to use the Internet on our day off, and smuggling and illegally drinking wine (alcohol, cleaning or otherwise, is banned from the premises) with a few fellow friendly volunteers.

Want more info on the juicing process, family, or other volunteers? Your comments will be personally addressed in the comment section. I just wasn't sure how much you'd all be interested in the details.

In the meantime, have your pets spayed and neutered (it's a damn shame bob barker couldn't get the price is right translated down here...) And remember, we love you.





Maria, the woman behind the curtain, posing with a piece of corn that, ironically enough, looks like a double helix. She is all of five feet tall and maybe 80 pounds and can definitely out eat me. I´m sure if there were a vegetarian Nathan´s dog, she could outeat Joey Chestnut. She also has that unique ageless look, at moments she looks no older than a teenage kid, while at other times she looks like an incredibly young grandmother.


Beth is happy, mostly because at this particular moment she isn´t picking apples.




Who farted?


My mom is worried about this picture circulating through Arizona, as she is sure this will lead to my inevitable deportation.


Manpris.com.ar: For men who like three quarters length pants, farming, alabaster legs and hay, lots and lots of hay.

Beth hoeing???