Sinead's Place

I'm writing this post from the sun room/tv room at Sinead's place. I have a cat and a kitten curled up at my feet, a carrot cake in the oven, a slightly more than comfortably full stomach, and the comforting knowledge that I will be warm and well fed for the duration of my stay with Sinead. The work hours here are even longer than at Moyleabbey -- about forty a week -- but I'm treated so well that this full-time volunteer job is thoroughly enjoyable. When I was at Moyleabbey, the most I could look forward to after a tedious day of weeding in the rain (besides talking to Alex) was a bland, unsatisfying meal, and an ice-cold trailer in which to retire. I'd spend the hours between 20:00 and 23:00 hoping to get tired enough to fall asleep. Because my bed, while not exactly warm or comfortable (it was a thin mattress on the floor), was warmer than anywhere else I had access to at Moyleabbey. I got to a point where I'd be weeding the arugula and thinking, "Jesus, why am I here? What am I doing? Do I want to spend my life thanklessly weeding the arugula?" And then I thought, "But this is different. This here is Irish arugula."

This argument helped keep me positive and cheerful at the time, but seems utterly absurd now that I'm out of that situation. If I'm not being treated well, I'm not being treated well - regardless of whether or not I'm on the Emerald Island or in Grand Junction, CO. I told my current host and a few other WWOOFers about my placement at Moyleabbey, and they were horrified. They told me that it was a complete abuse of the WWOOFing system, and they were shocked that I didn't just pack up and leave. I told them that my massive guilt complex and loathe to quit nature kept me rooted to that farm for an entire month. Next time I'm in a situation like that, I'm going to have a little more self-respect and a little less pride, and leave them to weed their own damn arugula. Because that's really all we were there for.

Things I get to look forward to at Sinead's:

Good conversation

A warm bed

Movie nights

Dinner parties

Druid moon ceremonies

Shaman medicines

Foraging lessons

Homemade hippie tea

Three large warm meals a day

Appreciation

Varied work

Wine with dinner

Chocolate

Being completely welcome in Sinead's home

I haven't been in a home for more than two days at a time since I left Grand Junction, and I hadn't realized just how much I missed the home environment until now. I spent the greater portion of my weekend cooking marmalades, chutneys, breads, and cakes, and it is SO wonderful to be able to walk from the living room into the kitchen. It is a wondrous thing to smell whatever it is I've got on the stove or in the oven wafting through the rest of the farmhouse. I love hearing the dishwasher and the washing machine. I love not having to go into a different house to shower or use the restroom. I don't think I ever appreciated the wholeness of home before.

I will be staying in homes for the rest of my time in Ireland, and I am VERY happy about it.

A tincture to help stave off the flu:

One part onion

One part horseradish

One part hot red pepper

One part ginger

One part garlic

Cover ingredients with apple cider vinegar and bury a couple inches under ground on a new moon. Let sit for three weeks. Remove from hole in the ground, discard the spicy solids, and pour the infused vinegar into a medieval looking bottle. Voila. You have Dragon Cider.

Sinead with the Dragon Cider

Never wash your dirty eggs! Eggs have a protective covering on them that water washes right off. Use a dry sponge to remove whatever poo you can, and then proceed to touch up the shell with a slightly damp towel.

Sinead actually gets fifty eggs a day -- so if you fall behind on the egg "washing", you really fall behind.

Parsnips are hellishly difficult to pull out of the ground. Their taproot extends over a foot past where the edible, carrot-like root ends, so extracting the edible part without breaking it in half takes a good deal of finesse, upper-body strength, and concentration. So before you raise a stink about the price of parsnip at your local grocery store, take a moment to examine the unblemished root, and reward the hard-working hands that brought it hither accordingly.

There is an Arthur Guinness day in Ireland, and I believe nearly the whole island goes out to enjoy a pint of this legendary brew. I am no longer the least bit surprised by the things the Irish choose to remember and/or celebrate. The three day plowing competition, for instance. Or street bowling. Or building a massive memorial on a well-trafficked bridge for a priest who never existed, and then rioting when the government took it down.

But I decided that I wouldn't mind joining the rest of Ireland and its innumerable American tourists in celebrating the day of the ingenious fellow who gifted us with Guinness. Sinead's other WWOOFer, a sparkling hippie named Hannah (who is unfortunate enough to be from Montana. I swear I didn't tease her about the unavoidable correlation this brings to mind.) and I met up with four other American WWOOFers at a traditional, dirty Irish pub. The music was good and my whiskey was splendid, but I was too tired to really enjoy myself. When the bar closed at midnight, I was nearly falling off of my stool, and not because I was excessively inebriated.

At a Kilkenny pub with some American WWOOFers

Sinead is taking full advantage of the fact that she now has a yoga teacher living in her spacious downstairs room. She's woken up early the last two days and allowed me to lead her through an hour long yoga practice. It's great for me as a VERY beginning teacher to have someone as supportive and friendly as Sinead to practice on. She invited five of her triathalete friends to a group yoga class tomorrow. The men promised to wear Lycra.

Sinead is also taking full advantage of my natural affinity for the kitchen. After presenting her with some badass red onion marmalade and sweet beetroot chutney, she decided to get her kitchen inspected so that she could start selling preserves at the market. We figure that she can make two euros profit per jar of vinegary goodness. And I will have a wonderful time chopping onions and smelling like balsamic vinegar.

I love kitchens. Sinead has a very nice kitchen. I could spend months in there, preserving all of her extra produce.

Burdock root helps cure cancer. The yellow, tangled root is a pain in the arse to get out of the ground, but once dried and properly stored, has excellent medicinal properties. It is also good for liver detoxing. Sinead is planning on concocting an herbal detox elixir to sell at the Christmas market. To help with the legendary Irish holiday hangovers.

I expect it will sell very well.

All in all, I'd say that Sinead's Place is everything I hoped WWOOFing would be. I'm actually learning a lot about what goes into operating an organic farm, as opposed to being a human weeding machine. I am getting a much better understanding of Irish culture, as Sinead is happy to take me out to meet her friends. I work hard, learn lots, and really feel as if I'm part of a home again.

At last. Something turns out just the way I'd imagined during the dreaming/planning process of this grand adventure -- and just as soon as I'd decided to let go and stop expecting anything.