Here's a journal entry from Catalonia, February 2017:
"So I boarded the bus, and rode two hours north of Barcelona to the small city of Olot near France in the Pre-Pyrenee mountains of Spain. I met my host couple, Joan and Judith at the bus station and the took me to their 15th century farmhouse where I would be living and working for the next 17 days.
Joan is a 55 year old man with a short build, grey beard, blue eyes, and a happy, jovial face and personality; he is from here in Catalonia and foes not speak English. Judith is 40 and from Scotland; she's about a foot taller than Joan, has dyed blonde hair, dull eyes, a friendly but distant personality, and drinks a lot of wine. The house is built with beige stone. It has a heavy wooden door, typical Spanish roof, two wood-stoves for heating, 30 acres of land, a vegetable field, a church nextdoor, and lots of animals. There are four horses: Platano and Porto are the old white ones, and Ferriol and Galindo are the young brown ones. Also, there are three gallinas, who cats Bob and Archie, and one dog Brigitte. Bob is much prettier with his long, golden and white coat, but Archie is much friendlier and loves to cuddle.
For breakfast I have bread and cheese and yogurt with honey and fruit and coffee and fresh OJ and olive oil over everything. I then work from 9am to 2pm and come back to a nice cooked meal of meat, carbs (like rice or coos coos) and veggies. Then for dinner we have soup and bread and many types of cheese. The food indeed is a indeed a bit repetitive, but it's always tasty and prepared so I cannot complain.
As for the work... I have done so many different things. I cleared huge thornbushes with a bushwhacker and threw the debris into a bonfire with a pitchfork. I shoveled carloads of chicken shit in the pouring rain and hail then spread it over the fields with a wheelbarrow and shovel and planted garlic with it. I spent hours gathering, cutting and stacking firewood. I cleared heaps of invasive weeds from the lettuce in the garden with my hands. I fed the horses every morning. I removed countless litres of dirty rainwater from a pool with a bucket. "Hemos hecho much trabajo," says Joan when I just now asked what else we've done.
I want you to remember that I've done all this work with Joan who doesn't speak a word of English. We've actuality connected more than I would've imagined. We've discussed goals and dreams for the future, my father Eric and how I can help him, girls and love, death, travel, and what I should do after college. All in Spanish. And I feel myself understanding and speaking more and more everyday. I love this language and this country. Viva Catalunya."
Suddenly, my magical year in Europe was over.
I was home again.
