Day One

Day One

First day on the farm was quite an adventure. The husband, Alain, is still in the process of learning English but it is coming along very well with the help of fellow American WWOOFers. I was picked up from the train station at Cazeres sur Garonne by Alain and we made the awkward trip to the farmhouse where Marie, the wife, had already begun making the butt loads of bread they bake every Thursday for the week. I walk in, “Bonjour,” Bonjour.” “Je ne parle pas Francais” … “Eh, non Inglais” … Awesome. To say the least, there is a lot of silence between Marie and I….

As soon as I arrive, I am given my first task: to prepare the pizza. For everyone that knows me, knows I do not cook. It scares me. But, ok! Prepare pizza! It was easy! I poured a ratatouille on top of the dough and shredded fresh cheese (important to note, it was from the cupboard, not the fridge) with a grinder thingy and folded the remaining dough back onto the pizza. Done. I didn’t screw it up! Whew! By the way, that pizza was amazing. Note 1: I must learn to make the dough and ratatouille AND the homemade elderberry flower soda. Note 2: Find out what elderberry flower is.

Second task: Help Marie take the bread outside to the gigantic wood-fired oven that was so large I was half expecting to see the charred remains of Hanzel and Gretel inside… All of the mounds of dough were in a row along a big wooden plank. I take one side, Marie the other. We walk it outside. Easy. We’re not even out the door when you hear a loud CRACK! And everything goes crashing to the floor. Dough flying about, onto the might-as-well-be dirt floor. It wasn’t my fault whatsoever but who’s side was it that broke?? MINE… of course. I hadn’t even been there an hour…. F@#k. Eh well… Not a big deal. Pick it back up, don’t even try to dust the dirt off the dough (because that is not going to happen) and into the oven they go. They were still good! I probably ate that piece today! Or we sold it… Heh…

Third task: Help load a piano and woodcarving machine into the van to transport to the castle… castle? Quoi? Yes, a miniature castle (aka giant mansion) that was built during the Renaissance (complete with a moat!) for a little art fair on the following day. Okay… We get to the castle and there are only the artists, crafters, friends of theirs, and of course the people who live there setting up for the event. And there I am meeting everyone, ever so awkwardly, with a “Bonjour.” “Bonjour.”… kiss, kiss.. “Kristen.” “Insert name.” “Blah da blah da Frenchi blah” … “Eh, je ne parle pas Francais” … “Ehhh, oiu.” And again. And again. And again. I didn’t think people whose cheeks I hadn’t pretended to kiss would ever stop piling out of this castle. Made for a slightly awkward time.

Once the piano and wood machine had been set up in their respective places, in the courtyard of the castle, we said our au revoirs and headed back. Well, we tried to… We ended up getting stuck behind a small precession of kids dancing, adults carrying small torches, and a little marching band. It was the celebration of the village saint, Saint Jean… ehhh…. Leubleau (last name not remembered. It’s not Leubleau) Alain, who was driving, became slightly annoyed by not knowing about the parade, just wanted to get home. I, on the other hand, thought it was the cutest thing ever. A tiny little parade complete with a marching band and kids dancing in the most picturesque village in the South of France?? Eh, oui. But this was at 10 o’clock at night, mind you. And this was the pre-dinner parade. That has been my only qualm with France thus far, aside from not being able to communicate with anyone. Not eating dinner until 10 o’clock or later… That is usually when I go to bed. Not sure. I don’t go to bed until 1:00 or 1:30. By the way, I need a nap.