It's fascinating how quickly and completely things can change. I've been on this farm a solid week now, and in that time my life has done a total 180. As I type this, I'm sitting cross legged on a bed covered in flannel sheets and multiple thick blankets. I have two pairs of socks on. Each night I sleep like the dead, with nothing to wake me except a distant rooster or perhaps a cockatoo. About a foot in front of me, through the large picture window, sits acres and acres of fruit trees. Beyond those, National Forest. Of all the trees dotting the hills before me, only the lemon, orange, and mandarin remain unpicked. Yesterday my friend Jacob and I went to the small Lake on the property and let the sunshine warm us as we ate the fruit we'd just gathered on our walk back from "town". We didn't talk much. We've only known each other for 7 days. He's from Hong Kong, but is a month into a year off he's spending farm hoping. You meet people like this when you travel alone. Other singular wanderers. We got along instantly. I've taught him how to play Scrabble and Uno, he's made me Chinese food. There are only two other WWOOFers like myself here: Jacob and Tim. Tim's French, and a 20 year old tall, lanky, happy-go-lucky chap without a care (seemingly) in the world. Emily and John own this property...it's been in John's family for 70 years. They have two beautiful daughters and live just up the hill. I couldn't ask for a better host family. Emily picked me up from Perth center four days after arriving in the city, took me to my little cottage, bought me groceries, and introduced me to her family (who live nearby). My first afternoon here was spent mostly in her Mother's kitchen: a huge wooden room with foot thick beams crisscrossing above your head, a massive picnic table in the center, and a coffee machine making delicious brew on a long counter filled with freshly picked veggies from the gardens outside. Dogs and children ran around me as I tried to soak it all in while her relatives asked me questions about who I was, why I was here, etc. My head was spinning by the time we got "home", and every day since then it's settled down considerably. And now, I'm just about as happy as can be.
Quite the contrast from my last week in Malang. Because of my life long tendency to procrastinate, I left the packing up until the last 48 hours. If it wasn't for Wayan's tremendous support, I never would have gotten out of there on time. The grading was painful. Fifty quizzes consisting of essay questions in one day kills the brain. But I got it all done. My boss and his assistant paid me a visit on my last full day, for business reasons, and I had to sit through a two hour meeting about housing issues, cultural differences, how to treat the next ELF arriving in September, etc. It was a whirlwind of paperwork and tediousness. What made it memorable were my students, who waited hours for me outside of my office while I ran around town, selling my bike, running errands, and looking generally frazzled. There was a cluster of about six of them, all patiently watching me come and go, hoping for a final conversation. Their kindness floored me, and when I gave them all hugs, I lost it. I'd forgotten why I was there, what I accomplished, and the effect of my year at that school. But when I gathered their tiny frames into my arms, it all made sense. Their attentiveness made up for the fact that at my staff going away party, I was served two pieces of processed cheese between two buns when I'd ordered a "cheese burger" (when I asked what had happened, they said I should have ordered the "burger with cheese" if I'd wanted meat). Their unabashed sweetness forgave the fact that my counterpart did not show up to my going away party, and the fact that even though I'd gotten rid of multiple bags of stuff before packing, they still charged me $36 in excess baggage weight at the airport. None of that mattered. And from the view outside my window right now, I'm brought back to the present, and to the simple, expansive joy of living, once again.
My schedule is pretty amazing. I'm asked to work four days a week. I have Wednesdays off, and full two day weekends. Work begins at 8am. I break for an hour at noon, and am finished at three. So far I've picked fruit (LOVE climbing the trees), packed fruit, pitted fruit, sorted fruit, labeled fruit, and eaten a lot of fruit straight off the trees. It's the middle of their winter, so I'm bundled up most of the time, but my tiny cottage has a large space heater that keeps the place pretty warm. At the moment, it looks like I'll be here another five days. Next weekend I might go back to Perth and try to check out the neighboring Fremantle, which is supposed to be an artsy little town with a good music and coffee shop scene. My last week and a half will be spent at another farm about two hours south of here. Again, I have no idea what to expect, but I'm not worried. Nothing risked, nothing gained, right?
Looking forward to more peace and quiet, more delicious food and new people. I love listening to folks talk around me, love noticing their unique colloquial phrases, the lilting intonations of their accents. Western Australia is a beautiful place. So grateful to be here.
Until then...happy 4th of July America! I'll be seeing you.
