la fattoria

// the farm

Well, the farm thing turned out to be a complete disaster. The usual deal with WWOOF is that you work a maximum of 6 hours in exchange for a bed and food. Some places are different but those places make it clear prior to arrival. I'd actually originally been destined for one such farm but they wrote to tell me that they had changed their methods and I chose not to go there, instead opting for another farm in the Dolomites.

The place I chose was beautiful, nestled in the mountains, surrounded by pine forests and green hills, pretty church spires and little villages lining the nearby hillside with lights twinkling prettily; all of which I glimpsed from the windows of the kitchen and laundry while I worked 10‑14 hour days without a break except to eat the food cooked by another overworked "wwoofer".

It was interesting at least to see the workings (ahem, "workings") of an Italian farm. There were 40 goats which were milked for cheese, 13 puppies which were for sale and three dogs which were for the cats to chase. Each morning a temporary electric fence was set up on a grassy area to form a yard for the goats, which were herded in an unusual way: you run away from them and they chase you into the enclosure. Think they could teach our sheep a thing or two! The dogs didn't seem to do much (like their master) the farm actually ran out of food for the dogs while I was there, something that has never happened on our farm in 30 years but was apparently normal there because they were so isolated (nearest town: 15 minutes drive).

While the goats were feeding, their stalls were cleaned out each day and some were selected to be milked. To make cheese, the milk is heated to 60 degrees, then allowed to cool, then rennet is put into it to curdle it before it's heated again to about 90 degrees. Then the top of it is scraped off and the rest is moulded into cheese. The cheese is left in the cellar where it shrinks as the liquid drains from it and it develops a crust that smells like very old toenail clippings.

That was the extent of the farm life experience. The rest of the time was spent cleaning plates, cleaning rooms and cooking for the guests. The place was organised so badly that even with 2 owners and 5 helpers, the dishes, cheese, goats and cooking took 10‑14 hours each day. Ridiculous. The food was all cooked by another wwoofer (when she arrived there hadn't been anything for her to eat!) and we weren't allowed to drink, rest or have anything resembling fun. We did organise a secret party in the teepee they had out the back which was fun until the owner turned up and had the gall to ask for a glass of our wine! I pretended to be asleep until he finally left and everyone laughed when I suddenly sprang into life the minute he disappeared through the doorway.

I was fortunate in that there were three other Italians wwoofing at the farm along with a French girl fluent in Italian and we all got along well. The Italian couple had their own car and on Friday we all decided we'd had enough so we told them we were leaving, had a big argument (try arguing in a foreign language, very frustrating) and took off first thing the next morning. It's a shame because the place was really lovely, but in my opinion 10 hours of work in exchange for 2 plates of pasta and a bed is not an 'exchange' at all. The "farmer" (who got up at 9am every day) was a very unreasonable and disorganised man incapable of understanding why we weren't happy, even though we had explained to him twice during the week that the deal was not what we'd agreed to, nor what anyone in their right mind would agree to. He said that he always has problems with Australians and I said that's because we aren't easily intimidated and we aren't used to being ripped off. Ha.

This is nothing against wwoof of course, most of the experiences I've heard of have been good, in this case it was just bad communication and bad organisation (I say this with a wry smile ‑ bad organisation in Italy? What a shock!)

Anyway, enough of that. It was an interesting experience, I learnt to make cheese (I prefer cheddar though) and once I'd decided to do the Italian thing and go on strike I spent a nice afternoon in a beautiful room watching the rain and being comfortable. I didn't get to see anything of the mountains but I have seen a lot of mountains now anyway. I spoke only Italian the entire week and learnt a lot of new words and phrases. The other wwoofers were very good to me and took me all the way to Venice on Saturday, from where I caught my train to Bolzano. The trip must go on!