Dirt Under the Nails
I left Bilbao late last Friday night. It would take me until Saturday night to arrive at my destination, which was only about 600 miles away by the most direct route. Between me and Finistère, there was a terrible storm and weekend protests mucking up my travel plans. In order, I did the following:
- 9.5 hours on a Flix Bus to Nantes whose seats were too tightly packed for my knees to even fit, arriving at 6:55 AM
- Learned that my 9:00 train to Quimper was canceled due to weather
- 6.5 in Nantes unsure if the next train would actually run or not
- 3 hours on the next train to Quimper (accompanied by everyone else who was supposed to be on my 9:00 train)
- Learned in Quimper that my train to Brest was canceled due to weather
- 2 hours in Quimper waiting for the last bus to Brest
- Learned before boarding the bus that, because of the protests, the bus couldn’t actually get all the way to Brest, but would rather stop just outside the city.
- 1.5 hours on the bus to a parking lot just outside of Brest
- The following day, a one hour car ride from Brest out to Finistère, out to a farm close to Porspoder
My travel was infinitely helped by the fact that I speak enough French to communicate with clarity. Without that, there is every reason to suspect that I would never have ended up in the correct location. I had to negotiate transfers (to find trains/buses that would take the tickets I originally bought), understand the reasons for cancelations, talk to bus drivers and ticket agents, and commiserate with other travelers. And so, my months of French practice now feel totally worth it.
It was a long day. But, waiting for me on the other side of it, was my first experience with WOOFF, a program that links travelers to farmers, who provide lodging and meals in exchange for a few hours of farm work every day. I am staying with Marion, who runs a farm growing flowers and apples. I stayed my first night at her home in Brest, where she lives with her husband Laurent and her two adorable boys, Loup (5 years old) and Maèl (5 months old). The following afternoon, after time singing “Apples and Bananas” with Loup (much cuter in a French accent), we all piled into the car and drove to Finistère, a region of Brittany directly on the water, peppered with ancient stone houses, dramatic views, and many acres of farmland. The family treated me to the “route touristique” - a car route along the coast. A day after the big storm, the waves were nothing short of epic to behold. Huge sprays, roiling surf, lighthouses reaching into the sky.
The Coast of Finistère After the Storm
Laurent, Loup, and Me
We arrived at the farm soon after, and I was shown my lodgings in the farmhouse. It’s so beautiful here. There are two ponies (Joy and Flicka) as well as two heavily disgruntled sheep. Their apple orchard is on an off year - it produces every other year, but the flower fields produce every summer, and managing them is a lot of work. In the last few days, I’ve weeded, spread manure, tilled, put up fences, dug holes, planted, and put up chicken wire. We spend 4-5 hours every morning in the fields before sharing a huge lunch. My time after that is my own.
Joy and the Sheep
Joy
Flicka
Paloma and I Before Weeding
I’ve certainly learned more French these last few days than from any other experience in my life - mostly agricultural terms, but also a ton of fresh vocabulary commonly spoken in Brittany. I’ve worked “la campagniole” (a type of soil tiller/aerator) and spread “fumier” (manure) over “les planches” (land tracts). It’s been a good reminder of just how much there is to learn in a language. Vocabularies are measured by the tens of thousands, and I’ve certainly been operating well outside of my French knowledge base this week. But, they say immersion is the best teacher, and I truly haven’t spoken any English while I’ve been here. There are some conversations I can’t follow, some instructions I need repeated (and occasionally acted out), and some words I’ve heard several times but still don’t have a strong grasp of. But, I feel so good about the fact that I’m learning with intention. I don’t need to use these new words to pass a test but rather to make sure that I’m keeping up my end of the WOOFFing agreement. I really enjoy learning this way.
Even playing with Loup, whose French at 5 years old is a bit more comparable to mine than I would care to admit, has given me opportunities to learn. Hearing the way he formulates his sentences is absolutely fascinating. It’s totally different from hearing a 5-year-old speak in English. He’s learning that asking a question with “Est-ce que” at the beginning is more polite - in French, there are more ways to be polite than just saying “please” or “thank you.” He’s learning to use “vous” with strangers until he knows them well. It’s so interesting to watch.
After working hours, I’ve gone on a few hikes along the coast, stopped in Porspoder to visit the Biscuiterie to get some Breton gateaux (a term that normally means “cakes” but here refers to sweets of many different types - cookies, biscuits, and cakes alike). I’ve also spent plenty of tranquil hours on the farm, saying hello to the ponies and trying to convince the sheep that I’m not going to eat them. The weather is decisively different here - the chill of autumn has landed in Northern France and I am loving it. I spend the early mornings with hot coffee, bundled up outside with the animals, and by the end of the morning, I’m in my t-shirt.
What a way to travel. What a way to connect with people and experience a different kind of life - one that I’m probably not cut out for long-term, but am enjoying immensely nonetheless. I have another, longer WOOFFing stay for the last three weeks of November, but before that, I actually get to see my parents, who are taking a vacation to Italy and connecting with me near Venice afterwards. I’m so excited to see them!
Coastline Near Pospoder