Apologies in advance for any grammatical or punctuation weirdness that may arise in this post - this Czech keyboard is all kinds of strange.
We are in Stremenicko, in the Czech-Moravian highlands, nearing the finish of what may end up being one of the more schizo places we have been this year. At the moment, our hosts have taken off, a result of yours truly being such a competent goat milker. Rather than having the farm to ourselves - not counting the crazy old lady that is also a guest here and who I think tried to poison me with mushrooms - as Calder and I initially thought would be the case, we find five new guests, three of which are Czech volunteers who are justifiably surprised to find that their hosts have left them in the hands of other wwoofers.
Until now, C and I have for the most part been working far beyond what is generally expected of a wwoofing situation - and for precious little in exchange, at least as far as the typical host-volunteer relationship goes. The work isn§t miserable, though - for the most part we§ve enjoyed it. I have been hand-milking four sheep and seven goats twice a day, with Calder acting as my assistant wrestler (the design of the milking shed is ridiculous, not allowing at all for a graceful transition for the animals) and general goat-serenader. What began as a rather stressful situation has become our favorite part of the day, possibly because animals are generally not as weird or frustrating as humans, particularly the humans here, who tend to argue constantly and leave messes everywhere and are generally disorganized and thoughtless.
It is definitely more the peripheral things, or those completely unrelated to the farm and family themselves, that have kept us here. When we can walk off in any direction and be guaranteed of finding a cherry tree to feast on, it somehow makes the mess and disorganization of the homestead more tolerable. If we decide to go to the pub in the next village, it means walking through meadows filled with wildflowers and eating wild strawberries along the way. Throw in the kind of breeze that can substitute for showers, tasty sheep yogurt and goat cheese, and red-roof villages tucked tightly into the folds of green, and it§s not too bad.
Still, I wouldn§t recommend it. :)
We are in Stremenicko, in the Czech-Moravian highlands, nearing the finish of what may end up being one of the more schizo places we have been this year. At the moment, our hosts have taken off, a result of yours truly being such a competent goat milker. Rather than having the farm to ourselves - not counting the crazy old lady that is also a guest here and who I think tried to poison me with mushrooms - as Calder and I initially thought would be the case, we find five new guests, three of which are Czech volunteers who are justifiably surprised to find that their hosts have left them in the hands of other wwoofers.
Until now, C and I have for the most part been working far beyond what is generally expected of a wwoofing situation - and for precious little in exchange, at least as far as the typical host-volunteer relationship goes. The work isn§t miserable, though - for the most part we§ve enjoyed it. I have been hand-milking four sheep and seven goats twice a day, with Calder acting as my assistant wrestler (the design of the milking shed is ridiculous, not allowing at all for a graceful transition for the animals) and general goat-serenader. What began as a rather stressful situation has become our favorite part of the day, possibly because animals are generally not as weird or frustrating as humans, particularly the humans here, who tend to argue constantly and leave messes everywhere and are generally disorganized and thoughtless.
It is definitely more the peripheral things, or those completely unrelated to the farm and family themselves, that have kept us here. When we can walk off in any direction and be guaranteed of finding a cherry tree to feast on, it somehow makes the mess and disorganization of the homestead more tolerable. If we decide to go to the pub in the next village, it means walking through meadows filled with wildflowers and eating wild strawberries along the way. Throw in the kind of breeze that can substitute for showers, tasty sheep yogurt and goat cheese, and red-roof villages tucked tightly into the folds of green, and it§s not too bad.
Still, I wouldn§t recommend it. :)
i adore your writing genie. there is an essence of you filling my apartment this morning, making my warm honey tea just a little sweeter.
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