The dinner table, at my third WWOOFing location, has assigned seats. Unofficially of course, but I sit across from Evelyn, the 64 year old woman who loves television and cross words, who sits adjacent to Antoni , the 26 year old Belgian with Jesus hair, who sits across from Gabe, my 22 year old boisterous American …
One Spoiled American, Two Soiled Rooms
Gotta say WWOOFing ain’t always a dream. One day you might find yourself holding an over-sized ladle stirring “confiture du lait” (literal translation: milkjam) for four hours at a time, in a rapidly heating room, accidentally burning yourself and trying to defy the romantic pursuits of another WWOOFer. You might find yourself with bad cooks …
An Old Man and a Candle
Working at the Llama I lived in constant fear of a few things. First, that my dress was see-through. Quite rational fear, I believe. Especially when you forget to pack a bra and have to make a makeshift one out of scotch tape in the bathroom. Second, that I would not recognize an important person …
A Night at The Llama
Imagine, me-- a wee hostess at an up and coming hip and expensive restaurant. Let’s call it, “The Llama,” with one Michelin Star and a bunch of really intimidating (but nice) food and wine geniuses. Never having any experience at a restaurant, I came in all dreamy-eyed, scratching this romantic itch of working in the …
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