Home in New Zealand
I never remotely imagined a “farmhouse,” could be like this. I decided to try the new experience of becoming a WOOFer. This absolutely wonderful organization matches “willing workers on organic farms,” with farms where one works half a day in exchange for room and board. The organization is worldwide, and New Zealand has a very large number of farmers who want temporary workers. I got a WOOF directory and started calling. Eventually, I got a “Yes, please come for a week.”
Having missed the “busy season” cutting a species of protea that this farm sells mostly to Asia, I am the only WOOFer in the home now. Since the time pressure is over for now, my days are spent leisurely pruning the next crop of flowers in a magnificently photogenic environment. The “farmhouse” is mostly windows perched on a cliff overlooking a turquoise bay. When I practice yoga on the balcony looking at the view, I can easily imagine I have found Nirvana.
Living with a New Zealand family is quite interesting too. Ironically, what the husband is hoping to accomplish with his 100 acres is to un-do the damage his farmer father did. During his father’s time, the goal was to clear as much land as possible for farming. The natural balance of nature was disrupted. This farmer hopes to allow the natural vegetation to return. It’s a slow process, requiring skill in protecting the natural vegetation that wants to return and restricting other plants that can take it over.
The income from selling the peonies and hardy protea flowers isn’t enough to support the family. The wife commutes about three hours a day to and from her job as a veterinarian. There are two teenage sons who go away to a boarding school during the school year.
I feel like a slug compared to this middle-aged couple. The wife is in training for a competition that requires swimming, mountain biking, and running. She rises at 5 a.m. to have time to work out at a local swimming pool before going to work. During the lunch break, she runs and bikes. On the weekend I was there, they arose at 4 a.m. to take their boat out to do some spearfishing. They came back with large live lobsters, which were then cooked as part of an elegant meal served to some invited guests. During “tea,” as New Zealanders refer to dinner, the adults talked about the cogs on their mountain bikes, the proper length of their skis, and the good places in Europe to ski during New Zealand’s summer.
Before dinner, one overnight guest invited me for a “little wee walk,” to give her old dog some exercise. The old, sick dog ambled easily as I struggled to follow through the hillside without paths and climbing over a barbed wire fence. The next day, they had picked fresh fruit from their trees and hiked four miles down to the little town before I woke up. Sunday’s afternoon activities were equally vigorous.
Yes, this is definitely a different pace of life where healthy exercise is a daily way of life, unconnected to fitness centers and aerobics classes.
This is an excerpt from my book, Memoirs of a Middle-aged Hummingbird, taken from my travel journal dated Jan. 14, 2004.
Tags: New Zealand;WOOF (Workers on Organic Farms);WOOF; farmi, Travel
