Quarter Year

Catchup post – Free(gan) Food!

April 15, 2010 at 4:26 pm

Talking
Learning learning learning

by Mike

Dude, we’re way behind, but I’m going to post some stuff to catch up, and for posterity.

We were with Riana and her family at the end of March….

We’re staying with a Freegan family in the idyllic town of Saint Laurent de la Cabrerisse in southwest France. Freegan means that they aim to spend no money on food. They dumpster dive (which just means that they poke around to see if there’s anything they can use whenever they take out the trash), they get produce from the local grocer after it’s unsellable, they have a large garden, they forage and they trade for food. We’re sleeping in a cozy attic of the 18th century stone house they’ve been renovating for the last couple years. Their budget is next to nothing – the husband is a school teacher and mom doesn’t have a job outside the house. (read more)

Show 0 Comments | Add a Comment

Let’s disgust you

March 24, 2010 at 4:25 pm

IMG_8635
All those pods are the eggs that were lined up inside the chicken, waiting to fully form. The pods you see are just yolk – the white and shell are last to form. Also pictured are the heart, gizzard, liver and some fat.

by Mike

I don’t know – maybe you aren’t as squeemish about those eggs, but I definitely don’t want to pop them in my mouth raw. Ew.

There was an attack! Yesterday, while we were cleaning out the chicken coop, I turned around to catch a dog with a mouthful of chicken. I chased him and he ran off, leaving the dying chicken on the walkway. (read more)

Show 5 Comments | Add a Comment

How to ride a fox

March 20, 2010 at 8:05 am

IMG_8258

by Mike

This is Amaya, proprietor of our current farmstay in St. Laurent de la Cabrerisse. She’s pretty rad. She does things we all wish we could do but are too self-conscious to pull off, like riding a fierce fox (above) or pooping under the dinner table during dessert, as she did last night (not pictured). This afternoon she managed to sneak a whole Coke and then spent the next hour running in circles screaming.

Amaya only speaks French and she speaks it better than we do, though I’ve been learning French for five times the length of her life. Occasionally she’ll bust out in a song she’s written.
“Do you want to hear my song? Do you want to hear my song?”
“Yeah! Let’s hear it!”
“Poulet poulet. That’s the song.”
“That was very nice!”

Amaya is friends with most people she meets, especially the old men in the courtyard who pass their days on the benches. They’re always happy to have her pulling on them, climbing on them or playing the guitar in the middle of the group. She’s quite a gutsy gal.

Show 2 Comments | Add a Comment

WP SlimStat