More Tales of Wwoofing

My three weeks as a wwoofer have been very eventful.  For one there were the holidays in the middle, which were pretty strange for me.  I am used to a white Christmas in cold New England, and a traditional Polish Wigilia Christmas Eve dinner with my family.  We start after the first star comes out, put hay under the tablecloth, break off pieces of the Christmas wafer and wish each other good fortune, and pass around the traditional herring dish that only mom eats.

This year the French guys and I grilled up some juicy steaks.  With shorts on no less, because it was warm (probably high 70s) and raining outside.  The steaks came out real well, though, after Julien and I whipped up a quick marinade with what we could find in the cupboard (soy sauce, olive oil, lots of chopped garlic, salt and pepper, dried basil, lemon juice, and Dijon mustard).  And earlier in the evening Pierre and I rolled up a ton of sushi for our Christmas dinner, after a quick lesson from Catherine (she went to her brother’s for dinner).

Our Christmas feast of... Sushi!

Christmas morning we spent with the neighbors and had a little Secret Santa gift exchange.  That was nice, but it still felt weird to spend Christmas a world away from my home.  In the evening the French guys and I drove their van to a little party at the coastal house of one of Catherine’s mates.  It had rained all day so on the way back we encountered some water over the road.  We strayed a little too close to the edge of the road and in the deeper water the van stalled out.  Pierre and I jumped out and had to push the van out the rest of the way out of the water.  Then we waited 15 minutes before “Herbie” would start again.  A strange end to Christmas day.

New Years Eve was no different.  I spent the night on the veranda of a neighbor and some of their friends.  I was the only one under 50.  The next day they asked me if I had fun, and I answered, “Yeah, for sure.  I got a different perspective.”  Which was true.  And not just because of the age gap.  I was so used to watching the Times Square ball drop on TV to usher in the New Year, but we were 14 hours ahead of New York, so we only had the clock to go by and once it struck midnight we celebrated with a toast of sambuca (all the champagne was gone by then).

Since it’s been the holidays Catherine has had a lot of time off to show me around the area.  One day she took me to Minyon Falls in one of the nearby National Parks.  The falls were absolutely gushing because we had just had six straight days of rain.  It was an impressive sight.  We were on a viewing platform on the edge of the cliff, 100 meters up from the forest floor.  I know that because there was a sign that said, “Danger: 100 Metre Fall over cliff.” 

At one point we shared the platform with a modern-day Kokopelli, who chose to sit up on the railing at the very edge.  Keep in mind that 100 meter fall over the cliff.  It was a very gusty day too, so I applaud the man’s courage.  If he was a man…

The spirit-figure's reincarnation.

A few days later we took advantage of a perfect beach day.  With a few of her mates (and their kids), Catherine took me to Whites beach, a hidden gem along the now-touristy coast around Byron Bay.  There was a steep path no longer than a kilometer down to the beach.  Coming up from the sand were rock formations that Catherine referred to as “pirate caves.”  I am more than happy to believe that tale.

Where's the buried treasure???

There were also plenty of palm/mangrove trees on a beach around the rock outcropping.  They were great to climb up and sit in, and close enough together that I could swing from one to the next.  There was hardly anyone else on the beach either and we had a nice picnic to finish the day off.