Day 2 WWOOFing in Italy

Lessons of the Day:

1. Farmers don’t stop for rain
2. Eye protection, face masks, and gloves are for the weak of heart (yet I would still really like to have them!)

Today was wet and cold (I write as a sit in bed listening to the rain rhythmically assault the house all around me. I’m under five blankets and wearing my thermal underwear and the t-shirt, long sleeve shirt, sweater, and fleece jacket that I have not once fully removed in the three days I’ve been here. I can’t bring myself to face the cold in this unheated house. If you’re on your way to the obvious conclusion, I will assuage your curiosity: yes—this means that, even with laboring outside in the mud, I have yet to shower). For better or worse, apart from taking care of the donkeys, today the rain pushed us indoors to sand rocks. They have recently built a stone guesthouse that is fully erected, and every individual stone on the inside needs to be cleaned with wire brushes.

Lean and I were given wire brushes, an electric sander, and were set to work. Soon we realized that we were short of supplies, mainly eye and lung protection. So we improvised with sunglasses, making it too dark to actually see what we were doing, and scarves tied up over our faces, Zapatista-style. Unfortunately, we did not find the appropriate improvisation to save our hands and now have the blisters and cuts as evidence.

Day 1 WWOOFing in Italy

My first day of WWOOFing in Italy was varied and eventful. My tasks for the day:
• Cut bunny food
• Clear shrubs
• Sand stone walls of new guest house that they are building
• Filter clay out of earth with sieve
• Bring the donkeys back from a day of grazing/Feed

So far, I have Simone—permanent resident—and two other WWOOFers showing me what to do. While WWOOFing, it is common to meet other WWOOFers on your journey. In Israel I found myself WWOOFing with a varied crew: a taciturn, perhaps even bipolar man from Connecticut; a vegan, philosophy student from Bulgaria; an Israeli girl still in high school; and an English raw foodist, to name just a few. Now here, the two that I have joined are Sergio and Leah, a couple that met at the University of Vermont and now live in Copenhagen where Sergio is doing a Master’s in Anthropology. Currently, he is in Italy doing applied research, studying identity in the Campania through culture and dialect, and in order to do so he is WWOOFing in several different areas of the Campania. His family is actually from the Campania and he spent part of his life here: [a small village (outside the slightly less small village of Sarno)] outside of Naples. He hasn’t told me his whole story yet, but he grew up moving back and forth between the East Coast of the US and Italy. His Italian father met his mother in New York; to escape a future constrained to farm life he had run off to New York to stay with his mother’s seven brothers. Why had all of her brothers come together to the States? They had had to leave Italy because “they had killed some people”.

Rule #4: Dura la vita del boscaiolo.

Difficult, the life of a lumberjack.

What makes me say this? I return to Rome, where I spent my first four days in Italy, before coming to the WWOOF farm, Couch Surfing with 44 year old Rodolfo. Rodolfo was a wise man. We had many a deep conversation on a wide range of topics…in fact, in some ways I am his American alter-ego. But there was one thing about Rodolfo that I never quite understood. Daily, perhaps used as a device to transition from one topic to another or to close a thought, he would say “Dura la vita del boscaiolo”. Our conversations, of course, never fell upon the topic of lumberjacks—or lumber anything—but he continued to insist, always bringing up this lumberjack.

I didn’t think much of it; I laughed it off nonchalantly, as he persisted the truth and importance of his statement. My first day on Italy WWOOF farm number one, I understood. Our first task today was to use a mini saw to cut down giant stalks of […?] for food for the bunnies, our second to cut back thorny overgrowth with machetes. It was my job to do clean up by cutting the thorn/tree stalks close to the ground, and while explaining the task, Leah, the other WWOOFer, said to me, “try to cut them as close to the ground as possible. That way, it will take longer for them to grow back and for us to have to do this all again.” It finally hit me: the life of a lumberjack is difficult. Not only is it backbreaking labor…it never ends. It will be the same labor with the same reward day in and day out… as soon as the plants grow back we’ll be (or the next WWOOFers will be) out there doing this again. It is physically and mentally difficult. This is the life of anyone who works closely with the natural world. This is the life of the boscaiolo. How strangely inappropriate for a city boy from Rome to use this phrase as his shtick, but how appropriate for him to have said it to me fresh before my experience as, in a sense, a boscaiolo myself!

WWOOF Italy Rule #3: Don’t strain too hard if all of your Italian lessons don’t seem to have quite prepared you.

Learning Italian, in Italy, is quite difficult, actually. In fact, going to some parts of Italy—especially the rural areas where WWOOF farms are to be found—to learn Italian can be like going to France to learn Portuguese. Why? According to my fellow WWOOFer Sergio, linguists recognize nine languages in Italy. Mussolini called them “dialects” of Italian in order to unite the country and the concept has stuck, but in reality modern-day Italian is one of nine languages that developed from Latin, chosen as the national language in large part thanks to Dante Alighieri’s The Divine Comedy. That is to say, the others did not evolve from Italian, but evolved from Latin on a different trajectory than modern Italian. That is to say, the Tuscan dialect is to the Neapolitan dialect more or less as Portuguese is to the Neapolitan dialect.

Within those nine separate languages of Italy, then, are hundreds of different dialects. Phew! So perhaps I can take a little of the blame off my shoulders for not having learned more than I did while living 10 months in the Cilento: I was studying one written language and hearing another spoken language, entirely. It makes equal sense that in this mountain village with identity strongly tied to land, culture, and language, I understand significantly less than I did, for example, in Rome.

WWOOF Italy Rule #2: Make friends as quickly and as frequently as you can.

Luckily, by this point on the ride to the first Italy WWOOF, I had already begun a congenial friendship with the bus driver, so he decided we were in this together. He doesn’t stop driving his bus until we’ve found my farm. So there we are, Alex and Franco, the two adventurers in a giant bus on a road that was surely first intended for nothing wider than two lanes of donkeys. For every passerby, Franco rolled down his window/opened the door and shouted to ask if they knew Tempa del Fico. After a few tries and several unintelligible answers (more on dialects of Italy later), we found the winner. He not only told us where the farm was, he offered me a ride! His name was Gean Paulo, a 28 year old who drives a hearse (he does a lot of driving, in fact; tomorrow he was to go down the mountain to the town from which I had come with the closest hospital to collect a body for a funeral). I was fortunate to have found such generous spirits (which you will find are the rule and not the exception in Italy), as it was already dark and in total it was at least a twenty minute car ride in empty, isolated country. Once we thought we had made it, the sign marking the farm was on the wrong side of the road, we turned down an unmarked dirt path, his hearse became stuck in the mud, and we unknowingly interrupted the path of a man and his cows who were going home for the night. A full 12 hours after I had originally set out in the morning, I had made it safely to my first Italy WWOOF farm.

WWOOF Italy Rule #1: Don’t worry too much about logistics.

I’ve arrived to my first WWOOFing farm, Tempa del Fico. After a few necessary buffer days in Rome to recover from jetlag (…that was my reason for needing a few days in Rome!) I left the house of my Couch Surfing host for an eventful day of car, metro, train, train, bus, bus, and herse.

Train Rome-->Vallo della Lucania: 3 ½ hours.

After some confusion—my host had given me inaccurate bus times and his cell phone wasn’t getting enough service to receive my calls—I finally made it to the correct bus for the 1 ½ hour ride up thin winding mountain roads and through tiny towns to the town of Rofrano, where the farm was presumed to be. Still not having reached my host by phone, though, there was no way for him to know to come meet me. But in a town of less than 2,000 and where, as one bus driver told me, “everybody knows everybody,” how difficult could it be to find him? Luckily, Rofrano was the last stop on the route. One of the exiting passengers assured us that she knew Tempa del Fico: you know, way up that one road, off in that one place, off in that one direction…in a nutshell, she told us ‘I have no idea where it is, but it’s way beyond walking distance.’

Israeli warmth--> Yarok Az

In Israel, I always somehow found myself invited to someone's table or into someone's home. Twice I spent the night on a beach on Shabbat, and twice I was invited to share in a Shabbat meal with a large family of friends who was eating near us on the beach.

At first I thought it was because I was a girl, but once it took place with another Colombian girl and once with a guy, so it truly was just because it is a country of brotherhood. Imagine being a country the size of Jersey, having enemies all around your borders, and having something as fundamental as a common culture and religion in common with most of your country? It forms a commonality that makes inviting strangers to dinner, hitchhiking, or inviting a stranger to travel with your parents all that more normal. With this said, if I had been in a hijab, it's quite probable that I would not have had such success with Israeli hospitality. While I am an outsider to the Jewishness of Israel, I very much share a common Western culture with the mainstream culture that even an Arab who has lived in Israel all her life may not.

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Invitation Home
During the earth building workshop, a friend of the workshop organizer, Tal, stopped by. Rachele could not participate because she was with her first newborn in tow, but she lived nearby and wanted to see what we had accomplished. When we had a break, she came into the earthen hut where I was to breast feed, and we got to talking. Within 20 minutes, I had somehow mentioned that I had no definite plans for the weekend, it being Thursday already and she had invited me to go to her parents' home further North. They had been visiting, she said, and they were going to be driving back to their home near the Galilee on Friday evening. They live on the small farm that she grew up on, and just two years ago her older sister and family had moved back to help her parents develop an eco-bed and breakfast. They have goats and make cheese, have organic gardens, some earthen building, and it may be a very interesting experience. Just like that, Friday after the workshop her father came to pick me up, I ate Shabbat dinner at her house, and then I drove North with her parents.

Car Ride North with Avi and Esther
Avi and Esther spoke fabulous English, and we were engaged in great conversation the entire ride.
HISTORY
- Ester: Her mother is English while her father was Iranian and had grown up in India. They met in England, an eventually emigrated to come to Israel.
- Avi: his parents were Romanian. His grandfather died in the Holocaust. At the time, Romanian Jews were rounded up and packed in trains with no destination; there was not yet a proper camp or space for them. Instead, they were driven around for days with no real destination. The goal was to starve and suffocate them.

- Holocaust trials in the 1950's: Ben Gurion pushed for trials to purge the society. Most survivors didn't speak about the Holocaust; it was too difficult so instead they carried black clouds with them that clearly were not healthy for the society. His hope was to educate Israeli society and the world of what had happened. Many were ashamed because of the widely discussed "sheep to the slaughter idea." If they were to speak of it, they feared the questions, "Why did you go?" "Why didn't you resist?" "There were so many of you and so few of them; it doesn't make sense." "Or if perhaps you lived and others didn't, what makes you special? Did you bribe someone? Cooperate with the Germans?"
These questions, of course, were far too painful for many survivors to deal with, so the issues were left unaddressed. The answers aren't easy. The transition of sending Jews to camps did not happen overnight. Long before violence began, around 1935 Jews became separated from society legally, their professions starved, and their voting rights lost. They were then mandated to wear a star at all times, all based on law with a hierarchy of how many Jewish grandparents are necessary to create a Jew. While Jews throughout Europe came in many shapes, sizes, and cultures (reform Jew, anti-religious, secular, Zionist, anti-Zionist...) Hitler propagated one definition of them and made explicate use of terms like "germ" and "parasite" to describe them eating away at the Aryan body. The original camps were meant to educate Germansˆ; they were not yet ready to deal with Jews, and in fact the first camps were reeducation camps meant to deal with any Christian Germans who opposed Hitler. Before Jews were separated out from society, first in ghettos, then in camps and finally in death camps, the goal was to delegitimize their entire culture. Jewish books were burned. By the time there was mass killing of Jews, the Jewish culture had been so delegitimized and the people so lowered to a parasite status that many soldiers felt little to no shame.
During the same time that 6 million European Jews were killed, 27 million Russians (a difficult number to estimate) died during the war. Stalin caused the starvation of as many people as Hitler killed, but the people at least had hope. Many Jews of Europe knew absolutely no one to whom they could turn; everyone was an enemy and everyone wanted them gone. This could explain much of why less resistance is known today. If you were in a death camp and you escaped, where would you go? Everyone outside, as far as you knew, saw you as the enemy and would bring you right back inside. Roughly 2,000 Germans killed the first one million Jews. By the end, about four Germans were needed to kill 2,000 Jews in 15 minutes using a death chamber (not only Jews: other minorities such as Poles, Roma or Gypsies, disabled, etc.)

- (back to car ride with Avi and Esther) ...Gurion's trials helped educate people about the Holocaust, as did plane hijackers in the 70s. If one man with a gun can take over an entire plane of people, then perhaps holocaust is more understandable.
- In Israel, Holocaust education was not in the curricula of schools at all until the 1970s!!! (Imagine 30 years of ignoring the Holocaust in ISRAEL, of all places.)
- As we were driving, we passed the security wall. Where I had become accustomed to seeing simply a small, unassuming and not terribly high fence (with touch sensors) when driving close to the West Bank, here it was a solid, cement wall. As bad as a barrier is at all, this wall gave a message and a feeling much worse than the fence in the rest of the country. Avi explained to me that here, Israel is nine km thick. A thin passage of land nine km from Mediterranean to West bank, dividing Israel into North and South. One attach could divide Israel in half, thus the considerably heightened example of security. The security wall: In Israel, there is a very Berlin-esque wall separating Palestinian territory from Israel, which is very difficult for an unbiased observer to accept. What message does putting up a wall give? To the other? To children who will grow up seeing it as normal? To Israelis who will use it to assert their superiority? With all of that said, before the wall went up, in the early 2000s there was an average of 3 suicide bombers a week in Jerusalem. The 2003 suicide bomb at a hotel on Passover that killed 30 was one of the last straws. After the wall was built, the number of suicide bombers has fallen to relatively almost zero. Other issues, of course, are profiling of all Arabs, IDF guards taking advantage of their positions of power at border patrols, etc. but these are for another discussion.
- Average Israeli spends one month a year in military training, some two to three months, and pilots every Friday until their 50s. This is certainly a challenge to businesses and their growth, but with that said it also creates a strong sense of dedication to one's country that in turn helps build a strong country. Now, after having retired, Avi volunteers as a highway patrolman, giving tickets for reckless driving or not wearing seatbelts. Imagine, an unpaid highway patrolman in the US volunteering out of the goodness of his heart rather than out of necessity for a paycheck!
- Avi had some ideas to describe the reasons for Israeli generosity toward strangers. Jews lasted through a 2,000 year dispora becasue of their culture of caring for brother Jews. A Jew could travel anywhere and at synagogue could find people to take him in or offer him food, money, or anything he may need. Jews still feel constantly "the other" and in danger in their own state, so this culture of caring for their brothers has continued. Along with the reality that many of Israel's early imigrants were predominantly from socialist European mentalities, Israel's sense of loooking out for your brothers continues.
- I learned from several Israelis that Arabs are given less opportunities in Israel's society. They receive far less tax money for their school systems, so understandably there are less Arabs going to universities. Some of Avi's perspectives shed a little light on this issue. Avi said that the Arab world does not have the same culture of volunteering that the Western or Ashkanazi Jew population has. Because much of their society is based upon family units, extended families, and tribe systems, they have a dedication to their families rather than to a larger community of people and that community's common good. An Arab house is spotless, but many people have no problem with throwing bags of trash on the street. People do not want to pay for their trash to be collected and pay taxes for many of these services that service the "common good"; instead they see only their house and their family as their responsibility. This is far different from the mindset of Israelis. Israel is the country of the Kibbutzim movement, the world's best example of communal life, where not even your home is owned by you and everything is communal. Thus, in Arab communities far less taxes are paid than in Jewish communities. So while less resources may reflect the reasons that Arabs struggle more to get ahead in the long run, less opportunities are reflections of their refusal to pay more taxes (all opinions of Avi.) Arabs do not have to serve in the Israeli army, either.
- Avi said that there is a resounding hate in much of the Arab community for Jewish Israelis. With that said, when the issue of redrawing the line and placing those communities under Palestinian control arises, the people's response is "absolutely not." Apparently, despite Arabs' disdain for the Jewish population, they are still happier being in a stable state (again, all of this is "fact" based on opinions of Avi and other Israelis that I encountered.)

Yarok Az
Ilannya is situated between the Sea of Galilee and Nazareth, about 500 meters off of the Jesus Trail (a 4 day hiking trail on which many Christians come to walk in Jesus' footsteps.) Ilannya means "Tree" in Hebrew and "Yarok Az" means both "Green Goat" and "Deep Green" in Hebrew. Yarok Az is the name of the family's ecotourism guesthouse. Avi and Esther raised their family here, and two years ago their middle daughter, Hadar, her husband Sahal, and their two daughters of two and five, moved and expanded another house on their property. Shahal had been a navy seal and then had a successful business job in Haifa, but he left his job to follow his wife's dream of opening this ecotourism center. Now he milks goats twice a day and works on the farm, training young boys who hope to make it into the seals to help make ends meet. On the farm they have about 10 goats that they milk with a machine and then use the milk for themselves and for making cheese and yogurt to sell. They have a tiny little shop with their own cheeses and other local goods such as granolas and more cheeses. They have organized a monthly local farmers' market on their property to encourage local consumption and to try to give locals a venue to sell their goods. They have a big geodesic dome and two bamboo cabins for visitors to sleep in, a bathhouse, and one compost toilet. They have an organic vegetable and fruit garden and even an earthen oven and earthen bench.
When I arrived, I was invited to enjoy wine, tea, and cake with the family and their friends and then stay out in their lovely guesthouse. In the morning I helped (watched) the Shahal milk the goats and then talked to him about the farm over homemade granola and homemade goat yogurt. Avi took me to Nazareth in the afternoon (just because I had mentioned I had wanted to go!) and took me on a truly personalized tour. I had Arabic coffee in his friend's car repair shop. He took me to the shop where he buys Arabic coffee where I bought the perfect blend, one that he has spent years experimenting with to develop, and I bought Halva (a sesame and sugar desert) to give to the family and a local brand of sesame tahini for myself. He gave me a tour of the largest Catholic Church in the Middle East and the local market, and then treated me to Baklava (or specifically kanafe) at a giant, booming baklava shop that another Arab friend of his owns.

My Help on the Farm
At first I had only planned on staying for a day, then having Riki pick me up as she drove North to the Golan to experience her home. But staying for one day and two days was the difference between only taking and being able to give back. Once they expressed their hopes that I would be able to help their farm, I couldn't go. Instead, I helped them register onto the WWOOFing website, Hostel World, and Trip Advisor with my eloquent mastery of the English language. I also helped them with earthen plastering projects. Their stove and bench needed to be recovered with a final plaster layer, and their compost bathroom walls needed to be recovered and finished. These were projects that had just been sitting for 8 months, and noone had gotten around to doing them, but my being there made it happen. When I left, I had a confident feeling that I had truly helped this family. The morning that I left, two WWOOFers had already contacted Hadar about coming to volunteer; within 24 hours they had already noticed the post on the website. It was such a wonderful feeling to be able to give without expecting anything in return. Avi took me into Nazareth just because he wanted me to be able to experience it, and he bought me traditional desert and pomegranate juice because they were first experiences that he wanted to share. There was nothing in it for him; just the pleasure of giving. The same was for me. Other than food and board, I receive no payment for this work. But with that said, everywhere I stayed I worked incredibly hard. I think it was because I was working with the people who were directly benefiting from my work. In most modern jobs, every hour is clocked and accounted for, and frequently you do not see how your work comes together to benefit the whole. I remember, in jobs where I had to clock in and out, I would find ways to leave close to 8 minutes after the quarter hour; it meant that I would be paid for the next quarter hour including 7 minutes that I did not work. There was no sense of dedication to the cause for which I worked because I did not feel like I was substantially helping the people I worked for directly. In Israel, I worked with small people. Without my work on any given day, these families would be that much further behind in achieving their goals of building their houses or establishing their bed and breakfast. I definitely found myself working with as much or more drive than I have in any other job where I was receiving pay, simply because I knew that the harder I worked the more I would be directly benefiting the family. It was SUCH a nice feeling!

Back to Rotem
I had spent two weeks in Rotem at the very beginning of my stay, and I had given my word that I would come back at the end to work again before I left. I do not think that they really expected me to, and I do not know that I would have had I not already given my word (as always, when the end comes near you realize all the things that you wish you had done and try to fit them all in during your very last few days.) But they were SO excited that I had returned! They were elated that I had come to help them work, if only for 1 1/2 days. Yotam had lost all of his WWOOFers and most of his employees, so for about a month he had been in a bit of a rut. Working on such a huge project alone shows very slow signs of improvement, and must be very unrewarding and tiring. But my return really got him kicking again because we completed a lot! In the first day alone we tested some floor patches, filled in an entire door, and came up with a solution to their bedroom step dilemma. I think because of my enthusiasm, teamwork, and effort, toward the end of our full day working Yotam wholeheartedly said, "I am really going to miss you, Alex!" I feel like little moments like this are my raison d'etre in this world. Making people happy and embedding in them some of my own enthusiasm after I leave I am coming to think is perhaps one of the best uses of my aspirations and talents.