9. The Crystal Shop in Tangier

As I write this, I’m sitting on an upturned bucket in a pasture on the south facing slope of the small valley with two and a half donkeys: Balthazar, Frangette, and their little unnamed foal . It rained most of the day. Since it let up, the birds have shaken their feathers dry and are filling the valley with the chorus of calls from crows, roosters, geese, turkeys, doves, owls, and dozens of tweety birds I don’t know the name of. Michel pointed out that les hirondelles (swallows) were making their migration north from the Mediterranean. Speaking of birds, a pair of storks have made their nest on top of a tree at the house. The tree’s branches were lopped off to leave a twenty foot tall trunk with a pallet fastened to the top to encourage its inhabitants. All day, the male stork floats down to the pasture to collect fallen twigs or loose straw to make the necessary repairs and additions to the nest. His partner welcomes him by throwing her head back so that her beak points straight up and chatters her long beak together. The male responds by echoing the chattering for three or four seconds. This process is repeated throughout the day. They are supposed to be monogamous, but the villagers complain that even the birds have given up fidelity these days.

This morning we went about the usual chores with more fluidity than previous. After I have a little breakfast of coffee, cereal, bread and jam, I go out with Michel to milk the goats. They are milked with a pump one at a time. Then, I go and fetch the sheep. I get one on a leash and the five others follow in line to the barn where they are also milked. After we collect the milk and deliver it to Sylvia to begin the cheese-making process, I usually follow Michel around until it’s clear what I should do. Today, he decided to continue chipping away at the hole in the wall of the house he started yesterday. This will allow him to put firewood through the sheet metal door he’ll (eventually) make into the pantry. For now, the hole remains open. To my admitted frustration, Michel rarely lets one project take up too much of his time. This strategy ensures that there is always something to do and you can’t find the tools to do any of it. This routine of work has me spending a lot of time guessing about what to do next, waiting for Michel to return with materials, or watching silently as he carries on. In Sylvia’s words, they are “good project starters, but not the best finishers.”

I can’t be critical of them, though. Michel is nice. He’s patient. He’s retired. He can do what he pleases at whatever pace he pleases. I can ask simple questions, and I can hope to understand the simple answers. But my vocabulary leaves few tools to argue about the strategies of building a garden or tile a bathroom. Either way, it wouldn’t be my place to give advice as I am a guest, a volunteer, and a youth. 

I mentioned in my first post upon arriving at Terroir de Famille that this place was not exactly what I expected. From the first tour, I was skeptical of the amount of commercial production. It just wasn’t what I set out to do. There is a certain zen that comes from getting lost in your work, and I intend to seek that state. After a week of living here in Ecurey, I reached out to some potential hosts.

There is a goat farm in south-central France that has agreed to take me in for the remainder of my trip. Ferme de la Cleppe maintains a herd of forty goats whose cheese is sold at the local market. And yes, they speak English. I’ve spoken with Dennis on the phone and he’s given me reason to believe it will be a good move. It will take all day by to make it to Clermont-Ferrand by train and to catch the last bus to Condat. So, tomorrow will be my last day at Terroir de Famille. 

Breaking the news to Sylvia that I was cutting my stay short was a difficult. She is such a giving and caring hostess, there is no amount of work that I could do here to equate the generosity she has shown me. I fear that my leaving will be taken as a sign of ingratitude for all the food, beers, check-ins, and days out. The truth is that I am grateful not only for the accommodations, but also for the opportunity to see another way of living. I know that though some of the days have been frustrating, that those are the times that I will grow the most. Someday, if I’m lucky, I may be able to live as care-free as Michel does. I am happy that I got to spend two weeks here. It’s all part of the plan.

Nevertheless, the journey continues. I’m looking forward to this third stage of Le Tour. Like Chris Froome, I’m leaving the bicycle behind here. I hope it is of use to more guests and wwoofers to come. 

Á bientôt,

Clayton

P.S. The title is a reference to The Alchemist.

P.P.S. An update: It’s now Friday. I was finally able to get into wifi here on the train. We had good weather on the last day of work. We made some repairs to the donkey enclosure and fashioned a gutter to capture rainwater. The boards also got coat of one part used motor oil and one part linseed oil (Michel’s recipe). The leave went relatively smoothly. Michel gave me a bottle of Pineau des Charentes as a parting gift. Sylvia and I had a big hug at the train station in Verdun.