Fun to Live on a Welsh Organic Farm
As any city-addict who can’t live without supermarket lines and exhaust fumes I always fall into nature by accident.
No difference today. I am sitting in a tent in the middle of a ‘secret festival’ and listening a blockbuster-worthy story of how local farmers fight with giant agricultural corporations and by force of joking media campaigns get all GMOs out of Wales. Hero of the story is Gerald who says being organic activist is like “being a farmer, but also a James Bond”. Such festivals and lectures on Glastonbury is a usual routine. And two weeks out of hospital Gerald still can not miss the fun.
Hero of the story is Gerald who says being organic activist is like “being a farmer, but also a James Bond”.
After his story about viral campaign of Santa Clauses fighting for organic products with supermarket executives, I want to say “get me back in time — I want my internship here.” And that’s how you advertise natural living.
After lecture our organic squad goes on to collect cardboard around festival camping site. “You can put it in the ground and make holes for vegetable saplings. Then the weeds will naturally not grow around them.”
What now seem genius was beyond my understanding two days before.
I vaguely remember advertising Caerhys project on Erasmus database from a dusty Cardiff office. Seven hours of social networks mainline into your veins — how much better life can be.
I ran through the ad. “Ecologically friendly” and “promoting youth mobility” sentences made me sleepy more than a cup of morning coffee running out of the organism. Nerves give up on a phrase “It is a remote place, and there might be no internet connection.” This alone could suffocate any freelancer info-junky on the spot. A colleague from the office looked over my shoulder and smirked:
‘Are you kidding? A year with no wi-fi — I don’t know how we’ll find anybody for this position.’
But a dozen of young Europeans apply, and three rainy months later two volunteers drive through the smallest of UK cities with irrationally gigantic cathedral the size of Vatican. On the way to St Davids roads narrow down to a single lane, and here British politeness becomes a survival instinct. I’m too used to Ukrainian “you can always drive through the field”, well try that with two cliffs on each side.
On the way to St Davids roads narrow down to a single lane, and here British politeness becomes a survival instinct.
Now several months later I get to see the lives of these remarkable people who wouldn’t want to live in a city. Yes, they live in a trailer, but with an ocean view from the window. Problems with wi-fi are not so obvious when you’re busy organizing a festival of flowers for a local community. When I meet Gerald for the first time, he stops half-way to the barn and says “see how these bees dance around this bush? It’s a little world of its own. Beautiful.”
Next day we go to plant rosemary in front of the barn, because “according to a study schoolchildren who had rosemary planted around their schools show better memory”.
My friend google would find a lot of arguments about this statement.
But general philosophy of the place is “let life be as it wants.” And this fun and fearless attitude towards the world makes you admire this patch of land with non-existent mobile connection no less than you can’t stop admiring an abandoned mine of Blue Lagoon 10 minutes away.